Duffy made the turn toward Harmony Valley. “Do you need to pick up anything downtown before I take you home?” El Rosal had a mini-mart in their lobby area that sold the essentials.
“I do.” He pointed to the road ahead. “Now, what you’ll want to do is take this road for three miles, then turn right on Kennedy, then right on Main Street.”
“You do realize I live in Harmony Valley.” And had for nearly a month. Duffy knew the way.
“That doesn’t mean you know how to get there the right way.”
There were only two roads into town from the highway—one to the east, one to the west. They’d taken the latter. “That tree hit you harder than I thought,” Duffy deadpanned.
“I didn’t ask for a comedian,” Rutgar spat, splaying his fingers through his massive beard. “I asked for a ride.”
* * *
JESSICA PARKED ON Main Street. Flynn and Slade had driven into the back alley with her things.
Martin’s Bakery. The sun made the front windows sparkle with blinding intensity. She didn’t care. She was steps away from it being hers. Jess could barely breathe for fear she’d wake up and this would all be a dream.
“This is it, Baby.” Pregnancy brain or not, she was doing this. “We’re home.”
When she got out, the glare off the windows diminished, revealing a legion of elderly women inside.
Jess opened the door and the women surrounded her until she felt like a fat sardine in a too-small can.
There was still a musty odor, but now there was also the strong smell of disinfectant.
It didn’t matter what the place smelled like. The photos were there. Familiar sepia faces that welcomed her, reassuring her that this was where she belonged.
“We’ve been cleaning.” Eunice’s purplish curls were trembling with excitement. “Upstairs and down.”
“Oh...” Pity alert. It shuddered through her system and threatened to put a snap in Jessica’s tone. “Thank you, but I can’t afford to pay anyone.”
“My dear.” Agnes laughed, a reassuring sound. “We don’t expect you to pay us.”
Sweet curls, sweet smile, sweet pink cheeks. Mildred bumped a woman out of the way with her walker, and patted Jessica’s arm. “You’re family now.”
Family. The word blanketed Jess with warmth, eased her breath, settled her nerves.
“What do you want done with all the pictures on the wall?” Rose asked, pointing to the faded photo of three generations of bakers behind the counter. “We saved dusting them until last in case you want them taken down.”
“I love them. They stay. They’re a part of the bakery’s history.” And they gave her a much-needed confidence boost.
The mayor, an older man with a tie-dyed T-shirt and ratty blue jeans, stepped forward. His gray hair fell in a long braid down his back. “Did you bring your lease? Signed, I hope.”
Jess fumbled in her purse for the paperwork and handed it over.
After a cursory check to be sure she’d signed everywhere, Mayor Larry grinned. “I’d like to present you with keys to the building, and wish you good luck.” He handed her a small key ring.
Jessica pressed the keys firmly into her palm in the hopes that the sharp edges would prove she wasn’t dreaming, that this feeling of euphoria was real and right.
And then the door behind her opened. It was Duffy. Not frowning, not scowling, not looking as if the world was about to end. That didn’t stop her chest from cinching with worry. His acceptance was important to her. For Baby’s sake.
Rutgar stood behind him, a bandage on his forehead. Goldie danced on her hind legs at the window, peering inside.
Duffy had told her to do what she felt was right. But that didn’t mean he could set aside his fears and embrace her moving to town.
Embrace. His arms. His kiss. Her heart. Not the appropriate word.
“Baby needs to sit down,” Jess said, sinking into a chair.
The crowd parted to let Duffy through, but didn’t back away to give them privacy.
Not that they needed privacy. Anything Duffy had to say, he could say in front of the entire town. She hoped.
“I was looking for you.” Duffy’s hand hovered in midair as if he wanted to touch her but was undecided about where. Finally, he rested it gently on her shoulder. “My parents and I went to Vera’s this morning. Why didn’t you call me about what happened?”
“I’m sorry... I...” And then to her horror she felt the weight of the week—of quitting, of an unfruitful job search, of the unknowns of starting a business—it all fell on her. The weight crushed her composure like walnuts beneath a meat mallet. She started to cry.
The women pushed Duffy aside, quick to offer tissues and hankies and consoling hugs.
Rutgar sat heavily in a chair next to Jess, knees bumping table legs. He claimed one of her hands. “I could clear this place out in thirty seconds if I had my gun.”
A dozen women let Rutgar know exactly how welcome that suggestion was. Unfortunately, they did so all at once.
“I was joking,” Rutgar roared, silencing the room.
“I’m so embarrassed.” Jessica wiped away her tears. “Baby likes a good cry at all the wrong moments. I’m fine. I swear.” Mortified, but fine.
A small bundle of fur was placed into her arms. Goldie licked her chin.
“She missed you,” Duffy said.
“Hey,” Flynn yelled from the back door. “What’s going on in here?”
“Nothing,” Duffy called out. He was head-and-shoulders taller than anyone else standing since Rutgar was sitting.
“Duffy’s so sweet,” Mildred whispered loudly.
“A keeper,” Eunice added.
“I’m sweet. I’m a keeper,” Rutgar announced, flicking his long hair over his shoulders like a fashion model.
Duffy’s jaw hardened, but he kept his eyes on the rear of the bakery.
“Here’s the paperwork for your licenses and permits.” Agnes dropped a thick stack of papers on the table. “If you fill them out this weekend, we’ll take you to get them submitted at the city, county and state levels on Monday. As soon as you pass a health inspection, you’ll be officially in business.”
The feeling of being overwhelmed returned. Jess was about to reach for Duffy’s hand when Flynn said, “Hey, Duffy, we could use some help back here.”
Duffy gazed down at Jess, his expression unreadable. “You okay?”
Jess nodded, glad she hadn’t reached for him. She knew the last thing Duffy wanted was for her to rely on him in any way.
* * *
“WHERE’S THE REST of it?” Duffy asked after they set the love seat down in Jessica’s pink apartment.
A twin bed. A dresser. A love seat. An end table. A small kitchen table. A couple of suitcases. And less than a dozen boxes, most of them labeled Kitchen. Jess had fewer possessions than he did. There were so few items, Goldie was almost done inspecting them all.
“This is it,” Flynn confirmed with a sad shake of his head.
“This is it?” Eunice joined them. “All Jessica’s things?”
Nodding, Slade kept his voice low. “She doesn’t even have a crib. I’m sure someone in town has one she could borrow that’s been stored away in an attic or garage.”
Duffy didn’t like the idea. “Safety standards on cribs have changed a lot since anyone here had kids.”
“Maybe the town could throw her a baby shower.” Flynn bent to pet Goldie.
Anger at Greg was usually a bitter, hollowed-out feeling in Duffy’s stomach. Not this time. This anger pounded in his veins, demanding action. Greg should have done better by Jess. He should have realized she was different than his normal mark. “Jess has known people here less than a week and she has an aversion to charity. She’ll have
kittens if we throw her a baby shower.”
“She’d accept a baby shower if you and your family threw her one.” Eunice eyed Duffy speculatively. “Family are expected to throw baby showers.”
His mother’s attitude toward Jess and Baby was still a work in progress, contingent upon a document Jess might never sign. “We could wait until after Baby comes.” Hopefully by then his mother and Jess would have found neutral territory.
Runaway train that she was, Eunice ignored him. “We’re not waiting. We can have it downstairs. I’ll take care of everything. The invites, the cake, the food...” Her purplish hair was the last thing Duffy saw as she hurried downstairs.
“This is going to be a disaster.” Duffy looked down at Goldie.
She returned his regard with a cock of her head that seemed to say, What’s the big deal? Despite his rules, the traitorous little beast had been the recipient of some of Eunice’s creations slipped to her under the table by the cook herself. Goldie may like Eunice’s goods. Duffy did not.
“Come on.” Flynn smiled as if the problem had been solved. “Women love this stuff. Let Eunice take over.”
The problems were just beginning. “The food,” Duffy said, hoping his words could convey the horror. “She’ll serve something like pickled raviolis with peanut butter on the side.”
“You just made my stomach turn.” Slade put a hand above his belt.
“Exactly.” Heaven forbid Eunice make that teeth-dying fried mush. She’d be the laughingstock of the town.
“Agnes will know what to do.” Flynn proceeded downstairs. “But if not, you’ll need to fix it.”
“Me?” This wasn’t a vine that had to be pruned or a downed tree that had to be removed. This was a baby shower. And Jess.
Slade slung his arm over Duffy’s shoulders. “Imagine for a moment that Jessica learns you knew what Eunice was planning and did nothing.”
Duffy imagined. Duffy felt sick. Duffy caved.
* * *
“BUT I WANTED to do this,” Eunice said when Duffy stopped by her place after dinner.
From what he could see, the inside of her house looked like it had been preserved from the 1950s. Wingback chairs with doilies on the backs and arms. Mod wooden coffee tables. Lamps with shades as large as small children.
“It’s a big job.” Duffy tried to sound as kindly as he could. But this was Eunice and kind words didn’t always sink in. “I’m not trying to take over. I’m simply offering to help with the food.”
“You’re being sweet.” Eunice gave him a suspicion-filled once-over. “That’s not like you.”
Duffy worked hard to keep his mouth shut. This was for Jess, after all.
It was hard to take Eunice seriously. She was wearing lavender polyester pants, a black sweater with a sequined heart on it and slippers with heels and pink fuzzy pom-poms. “You won’t give me any trouble?”
“No trouble.” It might kill him, but he wouldn’t even pick on her ridiculous footwear.
“I accept your help.” She smiled and batted her eyes at him like a red light at a busy railroad crossing. “You’re now officially the assistant baby shower coordinator.”
“Goody.” Mission accomplished.
A few minutes later, Duffy sat on the couch with Goldie in his lap. The do-it-yourself show on television couldn’t hold his attention.
Jessica had moved here. She was pregnant. Who would check on her every morning? Eunice? He shuddered, thinking of her bananas-and-ham dish. Who would Jess call if she went into labor? The answer was never him. But who would she rely on? She needed friends.
It was after eight. Too early to go to bed. Jess had probably finished unpacking by now.
From the shell-shocked look on her face earlier, she was probably in the bakery’s kitchen, baking something.
“Need to go out, girl?”
Goldie groaned a negative.
“Let’s take a walk.” He put his boots and jacket on.
Goldie dutifully followed him out the door.
“We’ll go down Main Street and come back.” No stops.
But when they came even with the bakery, his feet planted. The space in front of Jessica’s was empty. Vera’s bakery had outdoor tables, planters with cheerful flowers and personality. Jess had personality aplenty, but none of it spilled out here.
There was a light on in the downstairs kitchen, outlining the swinging door. A timer buzzed faintly. She’d be inside, pulling warm cookies or something equally tasty out of the oven.
Goldie stood on her hind legs and put her front paws on the door, peering inside. She cocked her head up at him, barked once and then bicycled her front paws on the glass as if trying to dig a hole through it.
The door from the kitchen to the front room swung open. Jess stood in the doorway, looking tired, worried and a sight for sore eyes. “Duffy?” Her voice was muffled.
Busted. He should wave and move on. But his boots had taken root. He wasn’t going anywhere.
She flipped the lock and opened the door. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Duffy hunched his shoulders against a sudden gust of wind, breathing in the smell of warm sugar and cinnamon. “I thought you might be baking.”
“Am I that obvious?” She inventoried his features, but it didn’t feel as if she were searching for Greg. It felt as if she were drinking him in, storing him in her memory. “Cookies just came out of the oven. I could use a taster.”
Jess. Her baby. The elderly town and their fix-it needs. Duffy wanted to be free to do what he wanted when he wanted. But the tug toward Jess was strong. Toward her arms and her warmth and her sweet kisses.
When he didn’t answer, she said, “Never mind. Thanks for checking on me.”
“I wasn’t...” He had been. Of course, he had been.
The look in her dark eyes said she knew it. “Goldie probably needed to stretch her legs.”
“Her owners haven’t shown up yet.”
She smiled sadly. “She’s found her forever home.”
Duffy was going to disagree, but when he looked down, Goldie was in her familiar spot—sitting next to him, one foot on his boot. His life was spiraling out of control. Neighbors and dogs and babies and mush. This could not be his life. This was not the way he wanted things to be.
“You were great today, rescuing me when I needed it most.” She placed a soft hand on his cheek, brushing over his stubble to rest on his neck.
One pulse of her fingers, one gentle tug of her hand, and he’d take her into his arms. A kiss. He wanted one. To soothe, to console, to—
She released him. “Good night, Duff.”
Before he knew it, the door was locked. Before he knew it, he was back home. Before he knew it, he was alone.
He was in his own place, a decent place. He had a good job. For once, he wasn’t burdened with credit card debt or the responsibility of making sure his parents could make ends meet. He should be happy. He should be fulfilled. He shouldn’t want.
He did.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JESS FELL ASLEEP reading the recipes and commentary in the Martin family binder. It smelled of chocolate and cinnamon and history, like a beloved cookbook should.
She dreamed of banana nut bread and happy babies and a smiling Duffy. She awoke before dawn to Baby giving the binder a good kick. Baby should have been kicking Jessica’s dreams aside, at least the ones regarding Duffy.
When he’d stopped by last night, she’d assumed he’d come by to talk. And when he’d looked at her as if he didn’t want to communicate with words, she’d reached for him. But he’d frozen at her touch. Nothing had changed. There would be no more touches. No more dreams of his smiles.
The people in Harmony Valley had stocked the bakery’s kitchen before Jess had arrived. To avoid the
stigma of charity, Jess insisted on repaying them with baked goods this morning. She’d made snickerdoodles and cream cheese brownies last night, trying to calm her nerves. It wasn’t enough to fill the bakery case.
She smoothed a hand over the cinnamon roll recipe. The page was lightly dusted with flour. Written in the margin were the words Satisfies a crowd.
Jess hoped some of the Harmony Valley residents would come by this morning. She’d love to give back by giving them a taste of what her bakery would eventually become. “Because we don’t take handouts,” she told Baby, who wiggled into a more comfortable position as Jess sat up.
After a quick shower, Jess was downstairs hard at work baking cinnamon rolls. Baby was being an easy rider this morning, so she also made vanilla scones. She arranged her offerings in the bakery case on the colorful pottery serving plates the ladies claimed to have found in the cupboards. Jess still had her doubts about the plates. They were too beautiful to have been left behind. She suspected they were charity, as well. Charity would end today.
Jess set the coffeemaker to brew and then unlocked the front door. Someone had deposited two oblong planter boxes made from redwood in front of the window. They had no dirt or flowers, but Jess doubted that situation would remain for long if she didn’t put a halt to things. Enough was enough.
“We are not in need. We can do stuff on our own.” Jess stood in the doorway, pressing her thumbs into the small of her back, enjoying the brisk air and sunshine.
A familiar green Buick turned onto Main. Agnes parked, calling out the open window, “We’re here to help. People should be stopping by soon.”
Jess had suspected as much. “We’re not taking any money,” she said firmly. “I don’t have any licenses or permits.”
“That won’t stop the community from dropping in. Or leaving tips.” Rose flitted to the sidewalk, leaving Eunice to help Mildred out of the backseat.
“Did you fill out the paperwork?” Agnes removed Mildred’s walker from the trunk and locked the sides into place. “I can review it before everyone gets here.”
A Memory Away Page 17
