Batter Up

by Robyn Neeley

  Though they had stopped dancing, Jason hadn’t let go of Emma’s hand. She could feel his grip tense. “Caitlin, cool it,” he ordered.

  Caitlin smiled wildly. “Why, Jason? Why would I cool it, when I’m just getting started?”

  The slow song ended and Brandon and Abby joined them. “Caitlin, don’t do this,” Brandon said. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

  “You don’t get to tell me what to do.” She sneered and then turned to Abby. “Speaking of an embarrassment, fair warning . . . he’s not that big and can’t hold it very long.”

  “Okay, I think that’s enough.” Jason let go of Emma’s hand and motioned to Michael. “Hey, man. Can you get her out of here?”

  “Come on, Caitlin, let’s go.” Michael reached for her hand.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” She pulled away, wobbling on her black stiletto heels. She regained her composure and smoothed her tight red dress. “Not a chance. Not when I’m about to have some fun.” Her eyes narrowed, focusing on Emma. “You two look oh, so happy, but will our resident good witch feel the same way tomorrow? I think that is the question of the night.”

  “What are you talking about?” Emma asked, her tone flatter than Mel’s buttermilk pancakes.

  “Why don’t you ask the big city reporter?” She turned her attack onto Jason. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

  From Jason’s reaction, Emma knew instantly something was wrong. “Jason, what’s she referring to?”

  Jason grabbed Emma’s hand. “Let’s go.”

  “Why, Emma, my dear, you don’t know?” She waggled a finger at Jason. “Looks like you’ve been keeping a secret you bad, bad boy.”

  “Drop it, Caitlin,” Jason said through clenched teeth.

  “Okay, enough.” Emma freed her hand away from Jason’s grasp and folded her arms. “What is she talking about? What secret?”

  Caitlin let out a wicked cackle. “Oh, this is rich. I guess he didn’t tell you that you’re going to be national news tomorrow. Your little bakeshop’s about to go . . . oh, let me explain it in terms a witch would understand.” She brought in her fingers and then released them. “Poof!”

  Emma stared up at Jason. His eyes went dark. “Emma, let’s go somewhere private.”

  “I’ve got the story right here.” Caitlin reached in her purse, pulling out a few sheets of paper. “Want an exclusive?” She shoved the papers in Emma’s face.

  With a quick hand, Jason snatched the papers from Caitlin. “Did you steal this from my cottage?”

  Caitlin rolled her eyes. “You left them on the kitchen table at my parents’ cottage.” She smirked, trying to act all innocent. “I stopped by to talk to Brandon on my way here. Sorry.”

  Emma stood frozen, trying to process the chaos going on around her. Caitlin had just accused Jason of writing the story—the story he promised her he wouldn’t do. Was it true? She turned to Jason. “Did you do it?”

  “Emma. I can explain.”

  “Yes, Jason, why don’t you explain,” Caitlin blurted out.

  Jason shot her a murderous look. “This is between me and Emma.” He nodded to Brandon. “Get her out of here.” On cue, Brandon reached down and swooped up Caitlin, hauling her over his shoulder.

  Caitlin pounded on his back, legs kicking. “Let me down, you asshole.”

  “Follow me,” Brandon instructed to Michael. “Where’s your car? Someone’s done for the night.”

  Emma watched Brandon and Michael take a drunk Caitlin out of the fairgrounds. She felt a tug on her arm and looked over to see Abby.

  “Do you want me to stay?” Abby asked.

  “No, I’m fine.” Emma needed to get to the bottom of what was just revealed, although the pit in her stomach growing larger by the minute indicated she already knew.

  Jason motioned for Emma to follow him. They headed over to a grassy area that had once held the kissing booth. Emma stared back at the tiki string lights and the dancers who continued to party to the rock band who had moved on to popular eighties’ songs. She turned away. Not even a fun version of “Unskinny Bop” was going to save this night.

  “Emma, I’m sorry.”

  “How could you?” Her eyes began to water. The reality of what he’d done slammed into her full speed. He’d betrayed her trust.

  He ran his hands through his hair. “I can explain.”

  “You said that already.” She shook her head. The only conversation she knew they’d have to have was one this reporter couldn’t spin his way out of. “Fact,” she muttered.

  “What?”

  “Fact,” she said, this time with conviction. “You said you weren’t going to write the story.”

  “Emma . . .” He tried to reach for her hand, but she snatched it away.

  “Fact or not?”

  “Fact, but—”

  “Fact, you changed your mind and wrote it.”

  “I did, but it’s not what you think.”

  “Fact, you wrote about what you saw.”

  “Okay, stop with the facts. I did write about it but—”

  “I’ve heard enough.” Her body shook with anger. “I’ve got all the facts I need.” She should have never trusted him. Her heart deserved better.

  “No, you don’t.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at the sky; his gaze came back down on Emma. “But if you want to talk about facts, let’s talk about them.”

  “Fine.” She crossed her arms. “Let’s hear them.”

  “Fact. You’ve been looking for a reason for this thing between us to not work out from day one because you’re afraid I will leave you like your father did.”

  “Fact. You use your bachelors as a crutch because you’re too afraid to go out there and experience life firsthand. You’re afraid to fall in love, Emma Stevens, with someone who will be good to you, that’s the biggest fact of them all.”

  “That’s not true. I was in a relationship for five years.”

  “With a man that didn’t give a darn about you that he upped and left you the first chance he got. You, me, all the women in the Spring Curls beauty salon—we all know it.”

  Emma stood stunned. He did not just say that to her. What did he know about how she felt or what she was afraid of? She bit her lip to stop it from quivering. “Well, I have one last one for you.”

  She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “Fact. We’re through.”

  19

  Emma stopped what she was doing the minute Abby walked into the Sugar Spoon. It was nearly time for the bakery to open, but Emma had been there for hours.

  Five long ones. After storming away from Jason, she had fled to her mother’s house for the evening. Awoken at four a.m. with an idea, she had ransacked her mom’s bookshelf and headed to the Sugar Spoon. Now, a dozen open spell books covered the entire bakery counter.

  Abby picked one up, studying the spell on its page. “Who are you trying to vanish—Caitlin or Jason?”

  “Either one—or both.” She shook her head. “I’m trying to do a spell to reverse bad luck.” She bent down and searched below. “Do you know what I did with the sage smudge stick? The white one?”

  “Yeah, it’s next to the black candles and cauldron,” Abby shot back.

  “I’m serious.” Emma straightened.

  “Okay, even if you found a spell in Magic 101 for Beginners, you know you can’t cast it. There’s only one you can do and that’s Batter Up.”

  “Well, that’s because I haven’t practiced. Now that I have some practice under my belt, maybe it’ll work.”

  “Emma . . .” Abby’s face showed concern and maybe a tiny bit of worry that Emma had gone completely off the deep end. “How long have you been ‘practicing?’” She emphasized the last word with finger quotes.

  “Since five this morning.” She looked down at her watch and then grabbed a book off the counter. “I think I’ve got all the ingredients for this one right here.” Emma showed her the “Jerk Permanent Removal”
spell on page thirty-three.

  Abby raised an eyebrow and took a seat on the stool. “So, this is all about Jason?”

  “It’s about saving the bakery and our reputations.”

  “I don’t believe you, Hermione.” Abby snatched the book out of Emma’s hand.

  “I prefer to be called Sabrina, thank you very much.” With one hard yank, Emma reclaimed it.

  “God, you’re strong.” Abby shook her hand. “Let’s talk about what’s really going on. What did the story say?”

  Emma shrugged. “Beats me. I haven’t read it yet.”

  “Well, let’s go look it up online.” Abby hopped up and headed to the kitchen.

  “No need.” She motioned to her tan hobo purse on the counter. “I have a copy in my bag that someone left at the bakery’s front door.”

  “Jason?”

  Emma put the book down. “You know, I don’t know. I assumed it was Jason, but maybe Caitlin dropped it off, wanting to get one last dig in.”

  Abby headed for Emma’s purse. “God, she was a bitch last night. I could have clocked her.”

  “You and me both,” Emma agreed.

  “Mind if I take a look?” Abby asked.

  “Suit yourself.” Emma paused. “But don’t tell me what it says, okay?” She and Jason were over, and eventually she’d have to read it. She just wasn’t sure if she could handle seeing his betrayal in print. Not yet. Her wounds from last night were still fresh.

  Abby reached inside and pulled out the newspaper, leafing through it to find the story. Emma watched as her cousin took a seat at a booth and read the story to herself with zero expression. A few minutes later, she folded the paper and returned it to Emma’s purse.

  “Well?” Emma couldn’t resist asking the question.

  “I thought you didn’t want to know.”

  “I don’t.” She really didn’t. Okay, maybe she did. “How bad is it? Does he expose the bakery?”

  “Yes,” Abby said.

  “I knew it!” Emma reached for the sage that she had found. “God, I hope I can do this spell.”

  “Well, he did mention Batter Up, but not in the way you think.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Guess you’ll have to read it, won’t you?” Abby walked around the bakery’s counter, grabbed an apron from under the shelf, and began to inspect the cupcakes from yesterday. “Although, we might want to make a few more dozen cupcakes for all the bachelors in New York City who Jason invited to Batter Up night on Monday.”

  “What?” Emma slammed her book down.

  “Kidding. There is a special invitation at the end that you’ll want to consider.”

  “Invitation?” Emma bit down on her lip. “For me?” She really should bite the bullet and just read the damn thing. Jason’s “facts” from last night rang through her head. His accusations had cut through her, mostly because she knew, deep down, he was right.

  But none of that explained his betrayal. He had stood here in this very spot the night he saw the spell with his own eyes, wrapped his arms around her, and said that he wasn’t going to write the story. Yet, he did. She sighed. Maybe it was for the best. Now that the story was out there, he’d go back to Miami and take his dead fiancée’s spirit with him.

  She collected the books to stow in her office. They’d be safe there in case any suspicious folks came in today, snooping around. Now that she’d been exposed, she didn’t quite know what to expect. Truth be told, she was a little surprised that she hadn’t had any unwanted visitors pounding on the bakery door. Come to think about it, the phone hadn’t rung once.

  Abby grabbed some empty cupcake tins from under the counter to begin this morning’s baking. They had agreed they’d start offering their popular fall lineup, including their pumpkin chocolate chip cupcakes with a delicious pumpkin frosting.

  “Okay, I’ll clean up out here, if you wouldn’t mind making the cupcakes?” Emma asked.

  “You got it, boss.” Abby headed for the kitchen, but hesitated. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I ran into Aunt Sheila. She asked me to tell you to meet her for lunch at the Star Lite.”

  “My mom’s having lunch out?” Funny, she didn’t mention it last night. Although, Emma hadn’t really given her mom a chance to engage in any small talk before she headed straight into her old room and to bed.

  “That’s what she said. Told me to tell you to meet her at noon sharp. She’s having a craving for a BBB Burger.”

  “Okay. I’m glad she’s starting to get out more.” It’d been a long summer for her mother, recovering from her broken foot. Betty and Mel, and all the customers in the Star Lite, would be delighted to see her.

  So would her bachelors if her mom was ready to pay a visit to Batter Up night. They all certainly missed her. The men loved it when her mother made a guest appearance. She was much more animated than Emma and really built up the anticipation to the big batter reveal.

  Emma began her regular morning routine of baking and chatting with customers. Surprisingly, not one brought up the article. A few minutes before noon, Emma left the bakery and headed for the short walk around the corner to the Star Lite. Everything seemed okay, normal even. She looked down at her purse and the newspaper peeking out from inside. Maybe she’d read it after lunch.

  Reaching the Star Lite, she walked in and headed to her usual booth, the only free one in the place. Her stomach growled. She hadn’t had a thing since her light salad for dinner last night and was ravenous. This might be the day to join her mom in a BBB Burger and possibly a sundae. Hot fudge sundaes always cheered her up.

  She looked out the window, wondering where Jason was. Was he packing to go home now that his work here was done? She fished out the paper and stared at it. Maybe just one quick peek at the headline. She started to open it when the door swung open and her mother had announced her arrival in typical Sheila Stevens fashion.

  The diner came alive the minute her mom walked in. The town residents had missed seeing her mother in the Star Lite, that’s for sure. Dressed in a pretty floral dress that covered her roundness, Emma’s mom looked radiant.

  Besides manning their booth at the Buttermilk Falls fair, this was the first time she’d been out and about since her nasty fall down the post office steps. A lot had happened between then and now.

  Emma’s heart clenched as she thought back to the height of her summer: being Jason’s fling. “Summer’s over, Emma. Summer’s over,” she repeated, trying to block any thoughts of Jason from her head. Like that was possible.

  “What, dear?”

  “Oh, nothing.” Emma waved her mom to sit down. “Why didn’t you tell me last night you wanted to have lunch? I could have picked you up.”

  Emma’s mother took a seat. “Nonsense. It’s time I got back on the horse, or in the car so to speak. Everything okay?”

  “I don’t know.” Emma looked over at her mother, trying her best not to cry. “I guess Jason wrote a story about us.” She nodded down to the newspaper resting between them.

  “You don’t say. That cute reporter you paid five thousand to date this summer?”

  Emma wrinkled her nose. “He’s no longer my fling, and it was for charity.”

  “Oh.” Her mom took a sip of her water glass. “So, how bad is it?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t read it yet, but it’s about Batter Up. It can’t be good.”

  They ordered, and Emma did indeed ask for a BBB Burger. She’d have ordered fries but decided to save room for the hot fudge sundae she tacked on to the end of her order.

  “So, what happened between you and the reporter?” Her mother smiled mischievously. “The buzz around town is you made quite a cute couple.”

  “How would you know? You haven’t been out in over a month.”

  “Oh, people tell me things.”

  “I’m sure they do.” Emma shook her head. “It’s over.” Betty came over and dropped two BBB Burgers in front of them, loaded with blue cheese and bacon. Emma tor
e into hers immediately. It’d been a while since she had a BBB special, as she usually ordered a late brunch meal on Sundays. The burger was as amazing as she’d remembered.

  Emma’s mom bit down into hers and closed her eyes, savoring the bite. “Why do you think it’s over, dear?”

  “It just is. He wasn’t who I thought he was.” If who she thought he was was someone kind, decent, and wouldn’t stab her in the back.

  “That’s too bad.” Her mom continued to enjoy the burger. “God, I missed this. You know your father used to love these burgers. I think Mel even told him what he puts in them.”

  “Besides blueberries, bacon, and blue cheese?”

  “Yeah, I think he throws in some special spices or something. We had so many wonderful dates here, many at this very table.” She winked. “He was a big spender back in the day.”

  This table. Emma watched her mom eat. She never brought up Emma’s dad so casually. Never. “Well, since you brought him up, I have something to ask you?”

  “What’s that dear?”

  “A long time ago, I overheard you saying to Aunt Jackie that my dad would be returning on a Sunday at 2 p.m. I’d be sitting here at this very table reading a newspaper. I’ve been coming here every Sunday for the last fifteen years. Can you tell me when exactly he’s coming? I’m getting a little tired of waiting.”

  She paused and took a gulp of her soda. There was no denying that Jason’s “fact” about her father had stung. Perhaps he’d been right. Deep down, she was afraid that Jason would leave her just like her dad did.

  Emma’s mom laughed. “Oh, honey. You’ve been coming to the Star Lite all this time waiting for your father?”

  “Stupid, I know.” Her mom didn’t have to outright laugh at her. That wasn’t very supportive or nice.

  “Not stupid, dear, but you’ve got it all wrong.”

  “I do?” Emma blinked and grabbed her soda again. Her throat started to constrict.

  “Yes. I did have a premonition, that much is true, but you misunderstood some of the details.”

  Emma raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

  “Well, it wasn’t Sunday as in the day I was talking about. I saw you eating a sundae.” She pointed to Emma’s dish that Betty had dropped down only seconds ago.