by Meg Muldoon
And probably a judge favorite too.
I swallowed back a glob of jealous spit.
“It’s not done yet,” she said. “But when it is, I’m calling it Max’s House. You know, after that cute pooch in The Grinch?”
She cleared her throat.
“I mean, I know I have some construction issues here and there that the judges won’t like,” she said. “But it’s my first competition. I figure I won’t win this time, but maybe I’ll get better at it and have a shot next year.”
I didn’t know if her modesty was honest or false, but either way, it didn’t matter.
The house was good.
It was damn good.
Where did this woman come from?
An awkward silence fell over the room. I knew I had to say something, but my throat had dried up like a mountain stream in August.
I scrambled for words, but just then, Cindy stuck her head behind the pink curtain that separated the kitchen and dining area.
“Pepper, there’s a lady up here who wanted to make a big order for a Christmas party, and she had a few question about whether we could do a large-scale batch of Maple Pumpkin Pies?”
Pepper smiled brightly.
“Thanks, Tiffany,” she said. “Tell her I’ll be right there.”
I took that as my chance. I stood up, forcing a phony smile.
“Oh no, I didn’t mean that you should leave, Cinnamon,” Pepper said. “Please, it’ll only take a moment and we can talk some more.”
I shook my head.
“Uh, no, no,” I said. “I’ve already taken up too much of your time. You’re busy.”
“No, really, it’s not—”
“I better get back, too,” I said, pulling on my coat.
“Oh,” she said, a little sadly. “Okay. If you have to go.”
“Thanks for the latte,” I said, throwing my scarf on quickly.
I took one last glance at the immaculate gingerbread dog house on the table.
I felt my phony smile fade, like a flower wilting in the frost.
I hurriedly walked out of the kitchen.
“Thanks for the pie!” she shouted after me.
But I hardly heard her.
Because all I could focus on was Meredith Drutman standing at the counter, drumming her fingers against the countertop impatiently, the same way she had done before when she ordered pies from me, in my pie shop.
Meredith shot me a smug smile as I brushed past her.
I practically ran out of Pepper’s bakery after that.
Chapter 24
I carried Chadwick through the doors of the Humane Society, the way I had been carrying him for the last three blocks of our walk.
The little dog had to be the most stubborn, hard-headed, stuck-in-his-ways pooch I had ever come across.
Fifteen minutes earlier, right in the middle of our walk, Chadwick had collapsed on the sidewalk, refusing to get back up on his little paws of his own free will. I’d tried everything to get him to walk again. I tried nudging him along. I tried tempting him with a dog biscuit. I even picked him up and placed him back down on all fours. But none of it got the little dog walking again. I finally had to lift the pooch up and carry him the rest of the way back.
“How’d it go?” said Deidre, the hardworking operations manager at the shelter, after I’d placed Chadwick in his designated holding area.
“Oh, okay, I guess,” I said. “He’s a stubborn one all right.”
“Well, we appreciate all the time you put in here, Cinnamon,” she said. “Especially with it being the holidays. We really need all the help we can get. So many dogs have been turning up on our doorstep lately. And we just don’t have the funds like we used to.”
“Any of them a bloodhound?” I asked, asking her the same question I had the day that Billy had come into my pie shop and told me that he’d lost Shasta.
She shook her head.
“No,” she said. “We’ve had a lot, but none of them a bloodhound. The closest we’ve had in was a Basset. Why do you keep asking?”
I shrugged.
“Friend of mine lost their bloodhound,” I said.
She nodded.
“What about a yellow lab pit-bull mix?” I asked. “Or a Shih Tzu? Have you had any dogs like that turn up?”
She leaned back in her chair, scratching her chin.
“No. For sure on the Shih Tzu. And as for the yellow lab mix, we do have a few, but they’ve been here for over two weeks. I’d assume you’d already seen them.”
My heart sank a little.
No luck across the board: strikes on all three missing pooches.
I let out a short sigh.
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks anyway.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a lot of friends with missing dogs,” she said.
I dug my hands deep in my pockets and shrugged.
Deidre suddenly sprang forward in her chair.
“Oh, that reminds me, Cin, I had a question I wanted to ask you.”
“Sure,” I said.
She took off her glasses, letting them hang around her neck from a beaded chain. She rubbed her eyes, which were bloodshot and strained-looking.
“Well, I’m sure you heard, but the shelter out in Redmond had its roof collapse yesterday,” she said. “That last few inches of snow just proved to be too much for it. But that means that our Humane Society will have to take in 10 more dogs later today while they fix the building out there. And, well, we just plain don’t have room for them.”
She sighed.
“So I’m asking all the volunteers if they can temporarily foster at least one of the dogs until we figure out our capacity issues.”
I bit my lower lip.
Not that I didn’t want to help the Humane Society, but I had Kara’s surprise wedding shower this weekend, and having an extra dog around the house on top of all those people just seemed like a lot to take on.
“Well, I’d love to but—”
“It’d only be for a few days,” Deidre said. “I promise. And it would really mean the world to the shelter. We’re struggling as is. The extra dogs are going to put us over, I’m afraid.”
She looked at me with hopeful, tired eyes.
Deidre cared so much about these dogs – it was hard not to become infected by that same spirit.
I let out a short little sigh, knowing that I was the ultimate sucker.
But I figured adding one stubborn little dog on top of my already busy weekend wasn’t going to make much of a difference one way or another.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” I finally said. “Give me Chadwick.”
Deidre smiled brightly, and then went into the back to collect him from his kennel.
Chapter 25
I stood back, scanning every inch of the gingerbread house with the same sharp intensity that a hawk scans a field for prey. Analyzing every nook, cranny, crevasse and slope of the cookie structure as if my next meal depended on it.
I wiped away a bead of sweat that had trickled down my temple, then glanced over at the clock on the oven.
It was nearing two in the morning.
It was official: Cinnamon Peters had lost her Gingerbread Junction-obsessed mind.
My hands trembled with exhaustion. My legs felt like a pair of lead pipes. My muscles were tighter than a rope tied to an anchor.
But none of that seemed to matter, because the cookie structure sitting in front of me on the kitchen island of my pie shop was opulent.
The cookie domes were shaped perfectly. The sugar glass spires atop the domes reached high into the heavens, sparkling like they were made out of crystal. A layer of white frosting and silver glitter covered everything, simulating fresh snowfall. Sugar glass icicles lined the edge of the rooftop. The lights that I had placed inside the structure shone through the stained glass windows, which were made out of melted Jolly Ranchers.
And in one window pane, a small candle, which in reality was a birthday candle, shone through.
As if Yuri was in there one cold and snowy night, quietly writing his poems.
On the grounds around the palace, I had made a stand of sugar glass snow-encrusted aspens and one drooping, sugar glass Rowan tree directly in front of the wrap-around porch entrance. Off to the side, a cookie sleigh held two marzipan figures embracing.
I let out a long exhausted breath.
I had a chance, now. A chance to beat Pepper and take home that $500 at the Junction next week.
And not only that, but I was sure now that after almost 15 years of making gingerbread houses for the competition, this one, this elaborate ice palace, was my very best creation to date.
I had made gingerbread North Pole castles. I had made gingerbread western ranch mansions. I had made gingerbread English country cottages. I had made gingerbread cathedrals.
They had all been beautiful. Each and every one of them. Even the ones that hadn’t turned out as well as I had hoped.
But this gingerbread house… this one was more than beautiful.
It was inspired.
I’d given it my all, infusing something that I’d been thinking about a lot lately into the cookie house.
Something I believed in with my entire heart and soul.
True love.
The house was my monument to it.
As I stood there, admiring the cookie palace, thinking of Daniel and me, I realized that my eyes had become damp.
I tilted my head back, keeping the tired tears from spilling over.
I had become such a sap since meeting Daniel Brightman.
But I didn’t mind being that way so much these days.
Chapter 26
I took a sip of coffee, watching from the bedroom window as Daniel’s truck backed down the long driveway, then headed west on Sugar Pine Road.
I pulled my robe tighter around my waist, wondering when I had started being one of those types who constantly worried.
He was coming back later tonight, but the weather forecast had called for a rough winter storm to blow in tomorrow morning. I didn’t like to think of him driving up there on those mountain roads if the storm decided to blow in early. The local cherub-faced weatherman liked to convince folks that he was always correct about storm predictions, when the truth was, he was right only about half the time. On plenty of occasions, storms would come barreling in earlier than the weatherman at the TV station predicted.
I could only hope he was right this time around.
The brilliant blue morning sky seemed in agreement with his prediction, though. Looking at it, you wouldn’t think that we were in for a big one.
I stared out the window for a while, long after Daniel’s truck had pulled away. I looked out at the beautiful meadow, the frost on the dead grass shimmering brilliantly in the lazy winter sun. I took in a deep breath. The house smelled of coffee and sunlight and fresh Douglas Fir from the Christmas tree in the living room.
It was the kind of Saturday morning that made you feel good to be alive. The kind of morning that called for a long walk in the woods or a day spent riding a bike around town. The kind of day good for strolling down to Meadow Plaza and enjoying the Christmas decorations while sipping a strong cup of coffee.
But as much as I wanted to do those things, and enjoy this rare, blue, December day, I didn’t have the time.
I had to clean, organize, cook, and craft today in anticipation of Kara’s surprise wedding shower this evening.
A loud, shrill, bark from the living room jarred me out of my thoughts. I jumped, and a splash of coffee sloshed over the edge of my cup, landing on the wood floor by my slippers.
I let out a sigh as the first bark was joined by a second, more familiar bark.
“Dang it,” I mumbled.
It had been like this all morning. Chadwick, perhaps out of sorts by being in unfamiliar surroundings, would just start barking at nothing. His barking would then incite Huckleberry to join in, starting an all-out dog riot for no good reason.
“Hey, you all stop that!” I shouted.
But either the two pooches didn’t hear me, or they were too caught up in barking at nothing to care.
I put down my coffee mug and went out to break up the commotion.
It was a loud beginning to what promised to be a busy, busy day.
Chapter 27
“Oh my goodness, Mom!”
Kara dropped her purse and pushed past the crowd of people in my living room to find Genevieve.
Genevieve was the spitting image of her daughter, only louder, brasher, and with a tendency to dress a little more provocatively.
The two embraced, and there was a gush of “Awws” from the rest of Kara’s friends.
I looked over at Brad and grinned.
He’d really come through, driving over to Redmond and picking up Genevieve without Kara having the slightest idea that she was coming to town early ahead of the wedding.
“Cin,” Kara said, letting go of her mom. “I can’t believe you did this!”
I shrugged bashfully.
“Well, it was a team effort,” I said, nodding to Brad.
Kara’s eyes began to well up. She started fanning her face.
“This really means so much, you guys,” she said. “You know, I was starting to feel sorry for myself? Since I wasn’t really able to have a bachelorette party in my condition. But this…”
She trailed off, her voice getting shaky. She looked around the room.
“Thank you all for being here.”
She came over and gave me a big hug.
And I knew that despite me not knowing a drill bit from a Phillips-head screwdriver, I wasn’t a complete failure when it came to being Kara’s maid of honor.
When I pulled away, I saw that a couple of happy tears had rolled down Kara’s face.
I smiled.
“Now c’mon, bride,” I said. “I’ve gotten a couple of gals from the spa to do pedicures. You just sit over there, and I’ll fix you up a nice virgin margarita.”
She squeezed my arm. The look of appreciation in her tired and exhausted face said it all.
Chapter 28
The house was a giant mess and Chadwick was driving me up the wall.
The little dog had been barking nearly the entire length of the party, setting Huckleberry off too. I finally had to put both dogs outside, apologizing to the guests for the loud, incessant, and irritating barking.
But putting them outside didn’t help much: they just continued to bark out there.
The guests had all been polite and kind, ignoring the racket for the length of the party. But as the night wore on, I couldn’t help but find myself frustrated with the situation.
After the guests had gone home and John had swung by to pick Kara up, I stood over the sink, scrubbing angrily at a stack of plates that had the remnants of the meat fondue and salmon cream cheese puffs that I had made for the occasion. Feeling frustrated.
Chadwick was part of that frustration. I truly enjoyed the little dog. But I hadn’t anticipated him barking all night. Of all the timing for Deidre to need a foster home for the dog, it had to be this weekend.
I bit my lower lip, the steam from the hot water rising up around me. The whoosh of the faucet almost drowning out the barking coming from outside.
Almost.
I shook my head, tossing one of the plates into the dishwasher.
I tried to focus on how happy Kara had been at the party. How surprised and overcome with emotion she’d been at the sight of her mom. I tried to focus on what she said to me before she left.
“Cin, you’re the best maid of honor anybody could have.”
Hearing that from Kara, especially after all my previous failures at helping her with the wedding, had been touching. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t focus on the good.
It wasn’t just Chadwick or my own inability to say no to Deidre that was frustrating me tonight.
I tossed another plate into the dishwasher. It hit the plastic dividers with a lou
d crash.
I leaned forward, looking down at the full sink.
The truth of the matter was, what was really getting me tonight, was Daniel.
He knew that I’d been planning this party for Kara for weeks now. He knew that I had needed all the help that I could get. And especially given how Chadwick was carrying on tonight, I really could have used his help more than anyone else’s.
Plus, there was something else bugging me about Daniel and his trip to Portland.
I had called Billy earlier that day, just to check in and see if he had any luck locating Shasta. He hadn’t, but he’d asked me when Daniel was going to get back from Portland. I told him late tonight, unless something else came up in the case he was working on over there.
Then Billy said something that had turned my blood cold.
“What case?”
After that, Billy had tried to back track on his words, but it was obvious to me that either Daniel was keeping Billy in the dark about the case he was working on. Or, Daniel was up to something. Something that he’d lied to me about.
I hadn’t been able to think of much else all night.
Not that I suspected Daniel to be… well, to be doing anything behind my back. But it was mostly just the point of it. He had lied to me about what he was doing in Portland. And whatever it was, I wondered why it had to be tonight, of all nights.
When I had needed his help the most.
I tossed another dish in the dishwasher and turned off the faucet.
I was being unfair to him – I knew that. But I also knew that sometimes, no matter how you tried to put a logical spin on things, you couldn’t help the way you felt. And tonight, despite the fact that the party had been a hit and that Kara had left in happy spirits and that I knew Daniel loved me… despite all those things, I still felt as though I just couldn’t—
I stopped mid-thought as something suddenly occurred to me.
It was quiet.
The soundtrack that had been playing for the last three and a half hours thanks to Hucks and the little cocker spaniel had come to a sudden halt.
