“We haven’t decided on that yet. We’re talking about spring or summer, but there’s no rush really. I’ll let you know.”
Emma regarded her friend with interest. Something was off. But what was it?
“Emma Rae?”
She looked up to find Danny standing in the doorway in blue jeans and tennis shoes, with a tuxedo jacket with tails.
“Danny. Congratulations.”
“Yeah, I just stopped in to—” He glanced at Fee. “Can I talk to you alone?”
Fee got the message and grinned. “Don’t have to hit me over the head with a baseball bat.”
“Thanks,” Danny tossed at her as Fee made her way past him, out of the kitchen.
“Sure thing. Em, I’ll see you out front in ten?”
Emma nodded, grateful for the boundary.
“So that cake,” Danny commented. “It was out of hand.”
“You liked it?”
“I can’t believe you can do that with cake, Emma Rae.”
“Well, I’ve been designing cakes for a long time.”
“Listen,” he broached, and then hesitated, pressing the toe of his shoe into the corner of a checkerboard square on the floor. “Seeing you again …”
“Can I just stop you right there, Danny? I have something I need to say to you.”
“Yeah. Okay. Sure.”
“You are the luckiest guy on the planet. Callie adores you, and the two of you are going to make a really good life together.”
“Well—”
“But only if you get one thing straight in your head, Dan.”
He looked up at her with embers of curiosity burning the blue of his eyes into a deep indigo.
“Men have a tendency to get distracted,” she told him. “They have something good in their hands, but they wonder if that shiny thing over there might be better, so they make excuses and they let themselves drift away from where they’re supposed to be. It’s kind of like when we went down to Clearwater on spring break. Do you remember that?”
“Y-y-yeah.”
“You were out there in the Gulf on that big inner tube, remember? And you fell asleep for just a few short minutes, and by the time you woke up again you’d drifted so far away that we had to get a boat and go out and tow you back. Do you remember that?”
“Yeah. Good thing you were paying attention to how long I was out there.”
“Well, that’s kind of how life is. You can be floating along, and then get distracted by something else for just a few minutes and, before you know it, you’re so far from shore that you might never get back.” Emma narrowed her eyes and asked him, “Do you see what I’m saying?”
“Kinda.”
“Don’t get distracted, Danny. Focus on Callie, and stay focused on her.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“You and I are different people now. I’m not the one for you. I probably never was. You’ve found the person you’re supposed to be with, so man up and make it work. Okay?”
“Well, yeah,” he said on a sigh. “I was only just gonna tell you that it was cool to see you again. Once I thought about it, it kinda made me appreciate Callie even more.”
“Oh.” Emma bit her lip and smiled. “That’s great. Hold that thought, and you two will be really happy.”
Danny snickered. “Whadja think? I was gonna go all ape over you again? Nah, I’m over that. Callie’s my bride now. You take care, Emma Rae. You’ll find somebody eventually.”
As he trotted through the kitchen door, Emma gave an inward groan.
All that sage advice built up inside of me, and I wasted it on Danny Mahoney. Not so sage after all, am I?
The Five Most Important Questions to Ask Yourself When Composing Your Wedding Vows
When you were a kid, what did you imagine about your future spouse?
What does marriage actually mean to you now?
What are the three best things about the person you’re about to marry?
What is your favorite memory of your fiancé?
What do you see when you look down the road of your marriage?
24
The instant she saw it in the newspaper, Emma knew what she had to do. And what a stroke of sheer genius it turned out to be too.
My Fair Lady was playing for one afternoon only on the big screen in an old retro theater downtown. It was the first movie Emma ever remembered seeing, and her Aunt Sophie had been the one to take her. She recalled that Sophie knew every word to every song back then, and Emma had seen it again so many times on her small screen at home that she knew them now as well.
When she glanced over at her aunt in the darkness of the refurbished 1920s theater, she saw that Sophie was enrapt. With her hands clasped together under her chin, her blue-gray eyes wide and reflecting the movement on the screen, wonder emanating from her smooth features, the woman looked half her age. Eliza floated up the staircase in her dark green jumper with the bright-white petticoat, singing about her evening and how she could have danced all night, and Sophie looked to Emma to be as light in her seat as wind in the trees. As her caretakers tried to prepare Eliza for bed, and all she knew for certain was that she could easily have danced all night, Sophie sang out along with her in a full, crystal clear voice. The ladies in the row behind them chuckled as she did.
Emma lost herself a bit as well, stepping directly into Audrey Hepburn’s peach-colored suit and curved straw hat with the flower as she sang to Jackson—errr, Freddy—about the importance of stepping up to the plate. Words, she shouted from somewhere deep inside, were useless now. If Jackson wanted to create a future with her, words would no longer do him any good at all; he’d have to show her!
Sophie reached out and grabbed Emma’s hand as Eliza vowed that life would go on without Professor Henry Higgins, despite his beliefs to the contrary, and she clutched it to her heart when Higgins finally admitted that he’d grown accustomed to Eliza’s face. Emma and Sophie left the theater hand-in-hand, and Sophie was luminous.
“Oh, Emma Rae, that was beautiful, wasn’t it? Thank you so very, very much for bringing me. Did you love it as much as I did?”
“I did, Aunt Soph. What do you say we go and have a cappuccino or a cup of tea? Do you think you can make it down to the end of the block?”
“I think I could dance that far on the air,” Sophie told her, and she made Emma almost believe her.
Emma drew Sophie’s arm through hers, and then tightly covered her hand. They walked slowly, and her aunt’s steps were deliberate. When they reached the café at the corner, Emma helped Sophie get seated before she went to the counter and ordered a pot of tea and two cups.
“Do you like cream?” Emma asked once the tea had steeped.
“Please.”
She dressed the tea for her aunt, and then moved the cup and saucer from the tray to the table before her.
“Does that Henry Higgins remind you of anyone you know?” Sophie asked her before taking a sip.
Emma chuckled. “Yes, Aunt Sophie. He certainly does.”
She was astonished that her aunt was so lucid, that she could so astutely recognize Jackson Drake in the character of—
“I thought you would see it. That Rex Harrison and your father could have been brothers, they look so much alike.”
“Wait. Dad?”
“Oh, what that man put your mother through over the years, with his grumbly, growly arrogance.”
“Did he?” she asked with a timid yet resolute sigh.
“First he’s in, then he’s out, and then he’s back in again. It’s a wonder poor Avery doesn’t have whiplash, isn’t it?”
As Sophie tended to her tea and crooned a chorus of “I’m an Ordinary Man,” Emma couldn’t help but picture her father in the part. Lowering her voice several octaves as she impersonated Henry Higgins, or perhaps Gavin Travis, musing about what happened to a man’s life when he allowed a woman into it, Sophie had Emma in stitches.
Despite feeling a bit like she’d betrayed her father by the fact that h
e so easily slipped into the suit and guise of Professor Higgins, Emma still had to admit that her aunt was on to something.
“I’m going to have a meeting in the restaurant this afternoon,” Jackson told Fee and Pearl from the door of the kitchen. “Would one of you mind setting up coffee service for two?”
“Glad to,” Pearl replied.
“Fee, by the way, I heard there are congratulations due. Wonderful news about you and Peter.”
“Thanks very much.”
Jackson started out of the kitchen, then backed up. “Where’s Emma?”
“She took the afternoon off,” Fee told him. “She’s spending it with her aunt.”
He took a seat at his favorite table in the empty restaurant, fidgeting with the tablecloth as he wondered why he’d given in to the impulse of calling Miguel over to the hotel for a chat. He was more than capable of working things through on his own, after all.
Of course, if that were true, I’d probably have done it by now.
Pearl delivered a tray to the table and gave Jackson’s shoulder a couple of pats.
“If you need a refill, or anything else, just give me a shout.”
“Will do. Thanks, Pearl.”
He’d just filled his own cup when he spotted Miguel heading toward him across the lobby, so he poured a second one as well.
“Thank you for meeting me, Miguel,” he said as he got up, and the two of them shared a congenial handshake.
“I was happy to receive your call.”
They sat down and made small talk over the coffee for a few minutes before Miguel asked what he might do for Jackson.
“I’m not entirely sure,” he replied in earnest. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the things you said.”
“I talk an awful lot, Jackson. Maybe you could narrow it down for me.”
They both chuckled, and Jackson melted down to a serious fragment of a smile.
“I’m having a hard time moving on,” he began. “You know, after Desi.”
Miguel nodded. “But you’re feeling that tug at your heart, the one that tells you it might be time?”
“Yes.”
After a thoughtful pause, he asked, “With Emma?”
Jackson’s eyes darted to Miguel’s as he wondered just how obvious they had been about their growing attraction.
“I’ve sensed something building there.”
Jackson ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “You have? It’s that apparent?”
“To anyone paying attention,” Miguel confirmed. “And she has feelings for you as well?”
“I’m not sure. I think so.”
Miguel’s dark eyes softened, and he leaned forward slightly toward him. “And what is it that’s holding you back? Your memories, or something specific?”
“I suppose it’s the memories,” Jackson admitted. “It seems like every time we get close, I find myself comparing her to Desi. It doesn’t seem fair to either of them.”
“I can assure you that Desiree would not take issue with you moving on at this point, Jackson. I think you know that. But you’re right, it’s not fair to Emma to hold her up to the light when she doesn’t know what you’re looking for.”
“I know,” he said, shaking his head. “I know. But why do I keep doing that? When am I going to let Desi go and feel free to move on?”
Miguel took a draw from his coffee and smiled as he replaced the cup to its saucer.
“You know, you probably don’t want to hear this, but I’m going to be straightforward with you, Jackson. If you’re asking me when you’re going to stop thinking about your life with Desiree, my answer to you is that you never will do that.”
Jackson raised an eyebrow. “Thank you, Miguel. You’ve been very helpful.”
He chuckled. “Desiree was a very important part of your life. She’s not going to be forgotten as you move on. She’ll be integrated into your new life. It’s a natural process for you to use her as the bar by which you measure others with whom you consider moving forward.”
“So you’re saying it’s not a negative thing? Because it feels that way when it happens.”
“I’m sure it does, because the emotions are new. You haven’t found your groove with them yet. But new is not negative. New is just … new. You have to allow yourself to feel whatever you’re going to feel, knowing that God has your best interests in His hands.”
Jackson sighed. It seemed almost too pat, too perfect an answer. Just do it. Let go and let God. He’s got the whole world in His hands.
“Does that resonate within you? Does it make sense?”
“I don’t know. In some ways, yes. But—”
Jackson fell silent as he watched Gavin stride across the lobby straight for him. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat and rose from his chair.
“Mr. Travis, how are you today?”
“Good,” he replied, then he smiled when he saw Miguel. “How are you, son?”
“Very well, sir.”
Turning back to Jackson, he added, “I’m looking for my daughter. Is she around?”
“I think she’s spending the day with Sophie.”
“Ah.” Gavin just stood there, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do next.
“We’re having some coffee. Would you like to join us?”
He looked from Jackson to Miguel and back again before replying, “Yeah. Thanks.”
Jackson grabbed a third cup and filled it before sitting down across from them.
“Are you being counseled, too?” Gavin asked him.
“Pardon me?”
“Miguel,” he said with a nod. “He’s been counseling Avery and me. I just thought—”
“Oh,” Jackson said with a nod. “I guess he is.”
“And I’ve interrupted. I can go, if you two want to—”
“No, no, please. We’re just talking. I’ve been having a hard time letting go and moving forward after the death of my wife.”
Gavin and Miguel shared a loaded glance.
“You know,” Gavin said, and then he took a sip from his coffee. “I was married before Avery.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“For three years. I was barely twenty-two when my wife was killed in a traffic accident.”
Jackson’s chest constricted slightly. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“I had a very hard time moving on myself. When I met Avery, I was in no way prepared for a woman like her.” Gavin shook his head and grinned. “She’s a handful of woman for a healthy man.”
Jackson understood, but he didn’t comment.
“You know, I think my daughter has grown quite fond of you, young man.”
Lowering his eyes, he admitted, “She’s a wonderful woman.”
“Yes, she is. And like her mother, she deserves more than someone who’s going to make choice after choice to paddle around in the past rather than go ahead and swim over to the other side. If I can be so bold, Jackson, don’t be an idiot like I was.”
Jackson met Gavin’s gaze and held it for a second or two.
“Don’t be so afraid of losing someone again that you never take a chance on being with someone. Keep your memories, boy. But take them with you. Don’t just sit back there and drown in them. And for pity sake, don’t use them over and over as an excuse to pull you away from the next good thing you might have in store.”
After a moment’s thought, Jackson turned to Miguel. “Are you responsible for this?”
Without a word, Miguel simply pointed upward and smiled.
A moment later, they were interrupted by an unfamiliar man in a very expensive suit approaching their table.
“Good afternoon,” he said in what Jackson perceived as a slight French accent. “I am looking for a young lady, please. Emma Travis.”
“Emma’s away from the hotel this afternoon,” Jackson said as he extended his hand. “I’m Jackson Drake. Can I relay a message to her for you?”
“Luc Granville. I would like to steal her.”
Jackson chuckled. “I’m sorry. Steal her?”
“Oui. Steal her. Steal her away.”
Jackson looked to Gavin just as he stood up.
“I’m the girl’s father,” he declared. “I think you better tell me just what you’re talking about.”
Fun Facts about French Baking
A pâtisserie is a French bakery specializing in cakes, pastries, and breads.
In France, you may only use the word patisserie in the name of your business if it is run with a maître pâtissier (master pastry chef) on the premises.
The pâtissier is a trained baker who has completed formalized training.
Often, the pâtissier has also served as an apprentice under the tutelage of a maître pâtissier.
American studies in the pâtisserie and baking arts include artisan bread production, the creation of chocolate/sugar showpieces, and classic European pastry production.
25
It was five-thirty by the time Emma returned to The Tanglewood. She parked in the back and entered through the rear door of the restaurant. They’d had half a dozen reservations for the tea room that afternoon, and she planned to head straight in to talk to Fee, wondering if everything went well.
A scuffle of raised voices drew her attention and, when she rounded the corner, she saw a group gathered near the entrance. Her father and Jackson appeared to be yelling at a man she didn’t know, while Fee tossed around some very animated Italian, apparently directed at Anton as Pearl made every effort to keep him calm.
“What’s going on?” she asked, but her question fell on deaf ears.
As she approached, she met Miguel’s gaze, and he hurried toward her.
“What’s this all about?” she asked him.
“You, I’m afraid.”
She looked on curiously, trying to catch hold of some snippet of conversation that made sense to her.
“This is my hotel,” Jackson announced to the stranger, “and I’ll thank you to leave the premises immediately.”
The stranger said something she didn’t understand. Was he speaking French?
Always the Baker, Never the Bride Page 23
