Rainey laughed. “That’s Gabe all right. He’s tight, but that’s good in a way. Means he has a good business head on him. He should do fine in New York.”
New York. How Cynthia wished she had never heard about it. It made an empty hollow feeling inside her, one that wouldn’t go away.
“After a tour, you can have some noodle pudding with me.”
“Noodle pudding!” Rainey exclaimed. “Is that a dessert?”
“Yes. I believe it’s Armenian. A woman in my old neighborhood used to bake it a lot.”
“I’ll try anything once,” Rainey said, following Cynthia up the stairs.
“It is beautiful,” Rainey said. “Gabe said you had the magic touch, and I can see he is right.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
After standing and enjoying the view from the north bedroom window, the two went back downstairs to the kitchen. Rainey accepted the bowl and claimed it was delicious. “So this goes on your website?”
“Oh, not mine,” Cynthia said, removing the bowls. “I just send in my column once a week, and then each night I see if anyone has posted a question or comment. Sometimes they send recipes for me to try.”
“And you’re not too busy with the work here?”
“Usually not.”
Rainey left, and Cynthia’s thoughts included Gabe again. She hoped Gabe had arrived home all right. She wished Portland wasn’t a two-hour drive away. Yet the distance hadn’t stopped him before. But New York, that was another matter. It was time to shift gears and go online to see if there were more messages. She turned on the computer and relaxed when she heard its steady hum.
Chapter 7
I n the past few months, Cynthia had covered quick breads, puddings, cookies, crisps, flans, and cakes. Her next lesson was to hone in on decorative cupcakes. She had never made any for Gabe, and she now regretted it. Gabe had left for New York two weeks before, and she had not heard a word. Funny how quickly she’d become used to hearing from him, having him drop in, feeding him some of her cooking, and sending him home with a goodie to enjoy the next day. He always called, thanking her. If only they didn’t spar so much. Cynthia was a strong person; she’d always known that. She liked having control. A lot of changes had been made to the B and B since she came. The latest was the remodel of one bedroom, which was now pet-friendly.
At first Gabe said no to every suggestion. And so she’d worked and finished one thing at a time. When he saw it, he liked it. He just didn’t like it when the bills came in.
“I’m not made of money, you know.”
Cynthia laughed. “No, but think of all the money you saved on labor.”
Every Friday morning she mowed the lawn and edged it. Some places would expect to pay a gardener, and she’d tactfully pointed out that fact.
The ongoing bill was for the flowers that Cynthia insisted on ordering. The house must look inviting. Word of mouth brought others to the B and B.
Cynthia looked out at the view of the river she’d grown to love. She couldn’t think of living anywhere else. It was serene except when the winds came and blew up a storm. When the water was choppy and frothy, she imagined what it must be like to be out in a boat then.
Cynthia dropped Gabe a snail mail note at the end of his first week in New York.
Just wanted to tell you that we had a full house last weekend. More people coming for midweek. Then it should start slowing down, though I don’t know why. The weather is glorious. But I really am writing to see how you’re doing. Do you love New York? I’ve always wanted to go, but maybe it’s one of those dreams I’ll never fulfill.
She wanted to say she missed hearing from him, missed seeing his face, but the words stayed inside her, along with the hollow emptiness.
Why didn’t he write? Even if it were just a sentence or two, she’d at least know he was doing okay.
Cynthia made a potpie and invited Rainey over.
“I just wanted to visit…see if you had heard from Gabe,” she said before Rainey slipped out of her sweater.
“I have not. And I assume you haven’t, either.”
“Did he always want to go to New York?”
Rainey nodded, taking a piece of the Mexican fudge Cynthia offered her. “Yes, he did. Talked about it as far back as I can remember.”
“Then it’s good he’s doing it. I think life is too short not to do what you’ve always wanted to do.”
“And you?” Rainey asked. “What’s your heart’s desire?”
Cynthia poured tea and motioned for Rainey to sit at the small table in one corner of the kitchen.
“I think I’m pretty much doing it. I’ve always liked to cook. I started the catering business, as you’ve undoubtedly heard about, and now I’m managing one of the loveliest B and Bs in the Northwest. I bake what I want when I want, and I am now teaching others a love of cooking—or hope that I am.”
Cynthia grabbed a plate off the sideboard and showed Rainey her latest creations. “These are cupcakes I’ve made for a party.”
Rainey’s eyes widened. “I like the butterfly design on this one. They’re all too beautiful to eat.”
“No, they’re to be eaten.”
“How did you learn this?”
“By trial and error.”
The two women talked, and Cynthia found out a lot about Gabe that she had only guessed at before.
“His grandmother doted on him; he could do no wrong.”
“I surmised that.”
“His father died when he was too young to remember, but my father remembered him as being loud and lusty.”
“Gabe certainly isn’t loud,” Cynthia interjected.
“I know. He never has been.” Rainey sighed audibly. “I have loved him for so many years, first as a boyfriend, and now as a brother. He’d do anything for me.”
Cynthia wondered if it was really a brother/sister relationship. Some of the best relationships were ones where the two were good, solid friends. You then built more on that foundation. She hoped someday she’d find someone like that. She knew it would never be Gabe. They disagreed on a lot of things, and though she found him attractive and felt she was falling in love with him at one point, she realized they couldn’t make a go of it.
Long after Rainey left, Cynthia thought about her life and what she would now do differently. And she couldn’t think of a thing except having a male companion. She missed that very much. There was a show in Astoria she longed to see, but it was no fun going alone. She went out to eat once in a while, but not often, as it was usually a disappointment. She supposed she was like a writer who no longer read a book for enjoyment, but edited every line. Still, a night out could be fun, and someone to help carry the groceries in could be nice. Someday she might realize that dream. There was always hope.
Cynthia cleaned the few dishes up, checked the computer for e-mail—just in case Gabe had written—then started her next column. She liked to keep ahead two weeks in the event she got too busy to do one sometime.
Cynthia turned the last light out and went to her small bedroom at the rear of the house. Sometimes she wanted to be on the tip-top floor as the view was magnificent. But, the innkeeper always had the smallest bedroom.
A sky full of stars was just outside her window, and she marveled in this most wonderful creation. She never tired of looking at the sky and the stars. The moon was but a sliver, making her think of a piece of pie.
Cynthia couldn’t sleep, not even after reading a couple chapters in Hebrews. Usually she felt comforted from the faith verse, but not tonight. Her mind kept going back to Gabe and how she felt when he was around. The times they didn’t get along were when they argued over the telephone. When he was here, she could ply him with one of her entrees or a fancy dessert, and he was happy. Sometimes they walked down the street to stroll along the river. There they talked about a lot of things, but never business. They left the B and B behind. She liked thinking about those times, knowing they wouldn’t happen again. Gabe had
carved out his niche; he would stay in New York and forget his simple life in Astoria, and Cynthia had to accept that fact and get on with her life.
Chapter 8
C ynthia had boxes of cake mix lined up in a row: chocolate and vanilla, two favorite flavors. She also had butter, powdered sugar, food coloring, vanilla extract, and lemon. There were also cupcake papers, which she usually didn’t use, but she knew they would be easier for the girls to handle while icing and decorating their cupcakes.
“How do I get myself into these things?” she said to Jan, who had called wanting to know how things were going.
“Because you’re a glutton for punishment,” Jan retorted. “At least that’s what my mom used to say.”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Cynthia had met the local Junior Girl Scout leader at the florist shop.
“We’re having a celebration coming up in honor of Juliette Lowe, our founder. We have a skit, a program showing what we do, but we need to make some money. I keep trying to come up with an idea. Do you have any?”
“No, afraid not,” Mary said, as she wrapped a silver ribbon around a bouquet of scarlet mums.
Cynthia walked on into the shop and, as always, had to put her two cents’ worth in. “I think it would be fun to have a cupcake raffle. It’s not as expensive, the girls could make fancy cupcakes, and people would bid on them.”
The leader’s face lit up, and she said it was a good idea, but who would help the girls?
“I could. Since cupcakes are my specialty, I have lots of photos and ideas.”
“Trust me,” Mary said with a nod. “Cynthia Lyons is a wonder when it comes to food. I say go for it!”
Here they were now, ten girls with frosting on the counter, floor, on everyone’s apron, and even on a few noses. But the cupcakes were coming along nicely. Each brought a cake mix, to go along with what Cynthia already had, and a box of powdered sugar. Cynthia provided the flavorings and decorations. She had a plate of cupcakes for an example, and the girls each chose which one they liked best. The ladybug always won, hands down.
They baked the cupcakes—each girl would do a dozen, and Cynthia would finish up with the rest and donate those to the raffle. The girls would have one hundred and twenty, and Cynthia would add another hundred or so. That should help toward the expenses of summer camp.
Cupcakes adorned the counters, the top of the stove (now cooled off ), and trays on the dining room table. Cynthia had bought pink boxes from the bakery, so the girls could take their cupcakes to the sale in a nice box. She hoped people paid more than they were worth.
Cynthia finished frosting the first dozen—it didn’t take her long. The girls crowded around, marveling at how fast she worked.
“I’ve frosted cupcakes for years; I better be fast.”
The door opened and she turned, startled. Nobody ever just came in, not even Mary or Rainey.
It was Gabe. Her heart flip-flopped as she wiped her hands on her apron, now smudged with greens, yellows, and reds.
“Why, Mr. Taylor, what a surprise!” She wondered if her face was red as a flush heated it. “I thought you were in New York.”
He came into the room and as their eyes met, there was a sudden longing in his gaze—if she was reading it right. Of course she could be wrong. She had been wrong many times in the past where men were concerned.
“This is Troop 44, and I’ll let each girl introduce herself, and, girls, Mr. Taylor owns this house. We have him to thank for letting us use the kitchen.”
Gabe smiled and nodded as each girl said her name.
“Are there any samples?” he asked, a grin spreading across his face.
Cynthia looked at her masterpieces. “Actually, these cupcakes were made for a raffle tomorrow night. The proceeds go into the girls’ camp fund. Now if you’d like to buy one, you can do that.”
“Just give him one,” Martha said. “He looks extra hungry.”
Cynthia nodded. “I suppose I could do that. Let him pick out his favorite?”
“No, I’ll buy since it’s for a good cause.”
Cynthia had not finished all of her cupcakes yet. The frosting was hardening, but that was no problem. She’d just add a teaspoon of hot water and finish the job.
Gabe bought six cupcakes and set a ten-dollar bill on the table. “I hope this is enough.”
“That’s more than adequate,” Cynthia said. “I’ll have coffee ready in a jiff, that is if you want to eat one now.”
“Does a bear live in the woods?” He grinned.
One of the Scouts wrinkled her nose. “What does that mean?”
“Of course a bear lives in the woods,” another girl answered, “so of course he wants a cupcake. That’s what he means.”
Gabe pulled out a chair. “You never cease to amaze me,” he said to Cynthia. “What’s it going to be next? You’ll invite all the politicians over for dinner?”
“Ha-ha!”
The girls put their cupcakes in their boxes, and soon parents came and picked them up. Gabe had started on his third cupcake. “These are not only works of art; they’re tasty, too.”
Cynthia wondered why Gabe was here. One didn’t usually fly to New York, work a few weeks, and fly home. Had something come up that was too important not to attend to over the phone? Was he selling the B and B because he wanted to buy a place in New York? Wouldn’t Rainey have mentioned it when she saw her yesterday?
“You’re wondering what brought me back.”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
“So am I.”
Cynthia raised an eyebrow. “Is this supposed to be Twenty Questions?”
Gabe got up then, wiping the frosting off his chin, and it hit her again how much he was like a little boy. She wanted to run her hand through his hair, wanted him to lift her face to his, but she must stifle the feelings. He’d found someone in New York and had come home to pack up the rest of his things in Portland and would probably sell the B and B by the end of the season, which was soon. She felt a lump come to her throat.
“So, are you going to say why you’re here, even if I think I know why?”
“Oh, you think you know, do you?”
“Gabe, just come out with it. You’re buying a place in New York and selling the B and B. Never mind the fact that it’s been in your family for three generations. Never mind the fact that you have an efficient manager who would give her eyeteeth to live here forever….” She stopped in midsentence, realizing what she’d said.
He stood staring at her, as she tried to recover as quickly as possible. “I shouldn’t have said that last part. I’m sorry—”
“Sorry?” Suddenly he was there, taking both her hands, removing her frosting-encrusted apron, and pulling her to him. “You’d like to live here the rest of your life? Is this true?”
“Well, I…” She looked up into his dark eyes and forgot everything that was on her mind. Only the things in her heart mattered now.
“You are wanting me to kiss you.”
Before she could respond, his mouth covered hers, and she felt herself lean into him as if she belonged there, as if she had always belonged there.
“So, that’s settled.”
“What’s settled?” Cynthia stepped back, her hands gripping the sides of her skirt. Usually she wore jeans, but this morning, feeling she wanted to look like an old-fashioned girl, she had donned a skirt with a white ruffled blouse. The apron also had ruffles. It lay discarded on the back of a chair where Gabe had tossed it.
“I have something to show you.”
“In Portland? I can’t leave. Guests are coming today.”
“Not in Portland. It’s five blocks away, close enough to walk.”
Cynthia wondered what Gabe was talking about. She looked at the frosting dried and congealed in the bowl now. She had to finish the cupcakes first. Would he understand? “Give me fifteen minutes, okay? So I can finish? You can put those that are done in one of the pink boxes—”
>
“Are you always going to be this bossy?”
Always? Did he say always? Always conjured up good thoughts in her mind. Happy thoughts. Forever belonged to always. She glanced back at him and found herself in his arms again, being kissed not just once, but twice. Finally he released her.
“I missed you so much when I was in New York.”
“I missed you, too. Your calls complaining about the latest expense, you suddenly turning up without calling first…”
“You do like being bossy, making the decisions, having your own way.”
“Now, just a minute. Everything I did for this B and B made it better, and you know it.”
“I like it when you get angry. Do you know your mouth gets all small, and your eyes actually flash? I noticed it the first time we met in my office. I said to myself that day, ‘Here is trouble.’ ”
“You did not.”
“Did so.”
“You never acted like that. I thought you couldn’t stand me.”
“I was fighting the feeling. You were getting in the way of my dream, my passion to go to New York and become somebody.”
“You already are somebody.”
“I know. I discovered that while I was gone. It doesn’t matter where you are; you’re still the same person. And I also knew that God brought you into my life for a reason, and if I didn’t get back here, someone else might come along and snatch you up.”
Cynthia’s head whirled with the suddenness of it. It was happening too fast.
She looked at the frosting and back at Gabe. “This can wait. I’ve had interruptions before.”
“This interruption will be worth it.”
“I’m sure it will.”
She changed from flats to tennis shoes and grabbed a sweater from the foyer coat rack.
“Where are we really going?”
“To see a house.”
“To see a house,” Cynthia repeated. She had trouble keeping up with his long stride, until he realized and slowed down. “Here, let me take your hand. That will keep me in pace with you.”
Soon they stood in front of an old Victorian, and Cynthia gasped. It looked to be the same vintage as Taylor’s B and B. But the paint crumbled, shutters were hanging askew, and the roof was in dire need of repair.
Sweet Surprise: Romance Collection Page 13
