The Truth in Tiramisu (A Poppy Creek Novel Book 2)

by Rachael Bloome

  Copyright © 2020 by Secret Garden Press

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Letter From the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Eliza’s Tiramisu Cheesecake

  Book Club Questions

  Also by Rachael Bloome

  Mom & Dad,

  You made this possible.

  Letter From the Author

  Dear Friends,

  Welcome back to Poppy Creek! It’s my sincerest hope that you enjoy this visit as much as the first.

  I don’t know about you… but given what’s going on in the world, I could use a freshly brewed cup of coffee at The Calendar Café and a huge slice of Eliza’s scrumptious tiramisu cheesecake.

  When I sat down to write this novel, my life was business as usual. But part way through, everything changed. The global COVID-19 crisis tipped the world upside down. And, at first, I found it difficult to write. But the longer I stayed away from the keyboard, the more I missed my fictional town and the characters I’ve come to love. And Poppy Creek quickly became my sanctuary. I hope it does the same for you.

  And if you’re reading this after the pandemic has passed, may it still bring you joy and comfort in your current season of life. Because that’s the magic of stories—they have the ability to transport us somewhere new and magical.

  As always, I would love to hear from you. You can email me anytime at hello@rachaelbloome.com or find me on my website. While you’re there, don’t forget to download your free short stories.

  Until next time…

  Blessings & Blooms,

  Chapter 1

  Every time Eliza Carter closed her eyes, she saw his face.

  And for the last few months, after glimpsing his shadowy figure engulfed in the commotion of New Year’s Eve revelry, she’d been able to think of little else. Her tumultuous thoughts couldn’t have come at a worse time, with her best friend’s wedding and the grand opening of their joint business venture less than a month away.

  In times like these, baking became her only solace. Something about blending the chaos of different ingredients to create a new, tantalizing dessert set Eliza’s world at ease.

  She cracked open the oven door, welcoming the blast of heat that lent her full cheeks a rosy tint. The warm steam carried notes of rich dark chocolate, tart raspberries, and a hint of mint, all of which teased a satisfied smile from her lips.

  When the idea for the recipe first sprang to mind, Eliza wasn’t sure how the concoction would turn out. But based on the mouthwatering aroma, the chocolate raspberry cupcakes would be a perfect addition to the bakery’s menu. Donning two polka-dot oven mitts, Eliza carefully slid the cupcake pan from the middle rack so she didn’t disturb the plump, delicate domes. She clamped her lips together, convinced a single breath would cause the cupcakes to collapse into themselves, destroying their coveted lighter-than-air texture.

  Inching across the hardwood floor, she’d almost reached the cooling rack on the kitchen island when the front door slammed, causing Eliza to lurch forward. The pan sailed from her grasp and clattered against the white tile countertop.

  “Hi, Mom! We’re home!” Ben charged into the kitchen with all the boisterous energy befitting his seven years. “Whatcha makin’? Sure smells good!” He dumped his backpack on the island before clambering up the barstool.

  Eliza watched the perfect peaks sink slowly. But before she could respond, her mother appeared in the doorway, her disapproving frown contrasting starkly with Ben’s cheerful grin.

  “Before you indulge him, he has something to tell you.” Sylvia Carter raised a heavily penciled eyebrow at her grandson.

  Ben’s expression deflated along with the cupcakes as he reached inside his backpack. Without quite meeting his mother’s gaze, he handed her a plain white envelope. “Miss Holden asked me to give you this.”

  A familiar tightness gripped Eliza’s chest as she ripped open the seal and withdrew the letter. Daphne Holden’s cutesy penmanship filled the page, belying the note’s severity.

  Eliza skimmed over the contents, picking out the inauspicious phrases.

  Zero retention. Easily distracted. Disinterested. Worrisome lack of progress.

  Heat crept up Eliza’s neck, escalating to a full-on boil when she reached Daphne’s recommendation to make Ben repeat second grade, citing the end of the school year in a few weeks as insufficient time to raise his test scores to a satisfactory level.

  Anger, humiliation, and guilt wrapped around Eliza’s heart, making it difficult to breathe. She crumpled the note into a ball before tossing it in the trash can beneath the sink.

  “That bad?” Sylvia asked, her tone laced with sympathy.

  “Certainly not appropriate subject matter for a note,” Eliza mumbled crossly. “She could have at least asked for a parent-teacher meeting.”

  Sylvia snorted. “You realize she’s been trying to arrange one for months. But you’ve been so busy with renovations and wedding planning, you kept putting it off.”

  Eliza’s guilt wrestled her anger and humiliation to the mat, winning the match. And her trophy would read Worst Mother of the Year. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned to her son.

  Ben sat motionless on the stool, staring at his hands clasped in his lap.

  Her stomach twisted at the look of shame on his face.

  No matter what Daphne Holden said, her son wasn’t the problem. Eliza spent countless hours each night working with Ben on his homework. She’d never noticed any of the issues Daphne mentioned. Clearly, something else was going on. And she would get to the bottom of it.

  But for now, Eliza simply wanted to restore Ben’s carefree smile.

  Softening her tone, she said, “Why don’t we add some frosting to these cupcakes? Then we’ll take a plate of them to your room and work on your homework together, okay?”

  He tilted his chin, bringing his gaze to meet hers. His huge chocolate eyes were so like her own. And his butter-blond hair had the same golden highlights framing his face. To the casual observer, Ben could be Eliza’s Mini-Me.

  But try as she might, Eliza couldn’t ignore the evidence of his father—the stubborn cowlick, dark, expressive eyebrows, and smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose.

  It was moments like this one that made her heart ache for what she couldn’t have.

  Ben’s father never was, and never would be, a part of their lives.

  Of that, she was certain.

  Grant P
arker knew he should be more excited. A contract with Morris Bio Tech would push his boutique web design business into the big leagues. Plus, he genuinely believed in Landon Morris’s vision—high quality yet inexpensive biodegradable packaging products for mass production. It seemed like a niche market. Yet, in less than three years, Landon, the chief biochemical engineer and CEO, had turned a company manufacturing biodegradable straws that didn’t turn soggy in a glass of soda to a multibillion-dollar business. And thanks to word of mouth, Landon wanted Grant and his small San Francisco-based team to handle all of his website needs.

  Grant should be ecstatic.

  Or at the very least, not so morose.

  But seeing the woman who smashed his heart to smithereens could do that to a guy.

  His decision to go home on New Year’s Eve had turned out to be worse than the time he ate week-old sushi.

  “Grant, are you listening?”

  Adjusting his rectangular wire-rimmed glasses, Grant tore his gaze from a framed photograph on his desk to focus on the chiseled features of Landon Morris. It really wasn’t fair that the guy had both a billion-dollar bank account and movie-star good looks.

  “Am I boring you?” Landon asked with a lighthearted grin. “I want the website design to be sleek and simple, not put people to sleep.” He chuckled, and Grant tried to join in, but it sounded forced.

  Landon leaned forward, snatching the black photo frame that had occupied Grant’s attention. “Friends of yours?” He gestured to the five teenage boys with their arms draped across each other’s shoulders.

  “Friends from high school. The one in the middle is getting married in a few weeks.”

  “Nice. If you’re into that kind of thing.” Landon set the photograph back on the desk. “Personally, I don’t see the appeal. Marriage is a time suck. Especially if you have kids.”

  Grant absentmindedly straightened the frame. “I have to agree with you there.” Although, the time constraint wasn’t his main reason for never wanting kids. Not that he’d share something so personal with a guy he barely knew. Heck, he wouldn’t even tell a shrink the real reason.

  “So, you’re a groomsman?” Landon asked.

  Grant hesitated. How had they gotten on this topic? “No, I’m not. We lost touch several years ago. The photo’s simply a reminder of the good old days.”

  “That’s too bad. But I hear ya.” Landon nodded in solidarity. “When my business took off, I learned who my true friends were in a hurry. And I gotta say, there weren’t that many.”

  Guilt lodged in Grant’s throat, and he coughed a few times to clear it. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Grant only wished he could empathize. But, in his case, he was the terrible friend.

  Landon shrugged. “Live and learn, right? But I’ll tell ya… the friends I do have are gold. And if one of them ever decides to make the long death march to marriage, I won’t miss it.”

  Grant let Landon’s words sink in as he stared past his shoulder at the muted gray wall.

  “Hey,” Landon said casually, rising from the slick leather chair. “You clearly have a lot on your mind. Why don’t I come back tomorrow to go over more of the details?”

  Grant suppressed a groan. Just great. Way to screw up the biggest deal of your career, knucklehead. “Are you sure? We can go over them now.”

  “Nah!” Landon waved away his offer. “Don’t worry about it. I have to get ready for a date tonight, anyway. I’m taking her on a chopper ride to Alcatraz.”

  “You’re allowed to land on the island?” Grant asked in surprise.

  “Depends on who you know.” Landon winked before strolling out of Grant’s office.

  Grant shook his head with a bemused smile, watching his office door swing shut behind Landon before his gaze traveled back to the photograph.

  Gently, he turned it over and rested it facedown on the desk. His heartbeat quickened as he twisted the metal tabs to remove the backboard and slowly slipped the photograph from between the glass and matting, revealing a second one hidden underneath.

  Pain shot through his chest as a pair of dazzling dark eyes stared back at him.

  The same ones he’d seen on New Year’s Eve that had filled him with both agony and longing.

  Did he have the strength to see them again?

  Because one thing remained certain.

  If he returned home to Poppy Creek for Luke Davis’s wedding, it would be impossible to avoid Eliza Carter.

  Chapter 2

  The smell of fresh paint and sawdust overwhelmed the lingering aroma of buttery cinnamon rolls—a hefty price to pay for the bakery’s new and improved look. Ever on an emotional rollercoaster, Eliza vacillated between excited and pensive with each new change.

  “I’m so glad Maggie promised to make her cinnamon rolls on opening day. Whenever that will be,” Eliza added with a discouraged grimace. The remodel was already two weeks behind schedule.

  She brushed her fingertip against the white brick wall, checking to see if the paint had dried. Eliza would have preferred the brick’s original ruddy color, but it had long been painted over with Pepto-Bismol pink. Not a good look in any decade. A truth that became a frequent topic of good-natured teasing between Eliza and the previous owner, Maggie Davis.

  “At least the paint is finally dry!” Waving her unmarked finger, Eliza turned toward Cassie and Luke.

  The two lovebirds quickly broke apart, blushing as Eliza caught them mid-smooch. She seemed to catch them canoodling quite often these days. Which both amused and amazed her. Just a few months ago, Luke Davis was a confirmed bachelor, devoting all his time to helping others at the expense of his love life. But Eliza knew the instant Cassie Hayward waltzed into town that she’d be the one woman to win Luke’s heart. And, eventually, the heart of everyone in Poppy Creek.

  Chuckling, Eliza planted one hand on her hip, feigning disapproval. “No wonder we’re behind schedule. This is the last time I hire a work crew that’s getting married in a couple of weeks. Those shelves aren’t going to hang themselves, you know.”

  “Sorry, Liza.” Luke slid both arms around Cassie’s waist and gazed adoringly into her affection-filled eyes. “I just can’t believe she’ll be mine in less than a month.” He kissed the tip of Cassie’s nose, and Eliza groaned.

  “Honestly, if you two weren’t my best friends, I wouldn’t hang out with you anymore,” she teased. “Your cheesiness is out of control.”

  Cassie laughed. “You mean best friend and business partner.”

  Eliza’s gaze traveled the expansive space, mentally noting their ever-growing to-do list. “It’s not much of a business yet. Unless customers want to buy a turn at the hardwood floor buffer instead of pastries and coffee.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Luke chuckled. “We can sell tickets. The pressure washer is pretty fun, too.”

  “Did someone say pressure washer?” Jack Gardener, owner of the local diner and barbecue aficionado, strolled through the front door carrying two takeout bags. The tangy scent of his signature barbecue sauce instantly flooded the room. “I’ll trade these pulled pork sandwiches for a go with it.”

  “You’ve got yourself a deal.” Luke slapped his friend on the shoulder before nabbing one of the brown paper bags.

  “Perfect.” Jack grinned. He pulled out a chair and wiped off the inch of sawdust before lowering his burly frame. “By the way, did you guys know your sign is crooked?”

  Eliza released a heavy sigh. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Can’t we fix it after lunch?” Cassie asked, sitting so close to Luke they might as well have shared the same seat.

  “It’ll take me two seconds. Start without me.” Eliza grabbed the ladder leaning against the wall by the front door and dragged it outside.

  Blinking a few times, it took her dark eyes a minute to adjust to the brilliant afternoon sunlight.

  Across the street, Mac Houston, owner of the mercantile, fussed with an unruly display of onions. More than one toppled
to the ground as Mac waved at Bill Tucker and his pet pig, Peggy Sue, who strutted on her leash as proudly as a prized poodle, a trail of chubby, curly-tailed piglets waddling behind her.

  The small town of Poppy Creek buzzed with life in late spring, but the real rush of activity wouldn’t start for a few more weeks when school ended and droves of city folk flocked to the foothills for summer adventures like hiking, canoeing, and spelunking.

  Eliza set the ladder on the sidewalk, struggling to find firm footing on the uneven cobblestone.

  Finally satisfied she wouldn’t fall and break her neck with the faintest gust of wind, she climbed a few rungs until she could reach the hand-carved sign Luke had made them.

  The Calendar Café.

  Eliza’s stomach fluttered with nerves every time she glimpsed the new name.

  Taking over the bakery after Maggie Davis retired was monumental. Luke’s mother had worked tirelessly to turn the place into a town institution for locals and tourists alike. Plus, Eliza still felt indebted to the older woman. Not many people would have hired a pregnant teen with zero professional baking experience.

  Swallowing the lump of gratitude lodged in her throat, Eliza tugged the metal chain securing the wooden sign to the eave.

  The motion disturbed the ladder’s precarious footing, and before Eliza could cry for help, it teetered toward the ground.

  “Whoa, there!” Strong hands wrapped around the ladder’s frame, instantly righting it, and Eliza found herself sandwiched between a hard chest and the cold metal rungs. “Are you okay?”