by Meg Muldoon
Poor little Chadwick.
He wasn’t a very good dog. He was terrible at walks. He was foolish, barking at squirrels and other people for no good reason. He didn’t heel when you told him to. He didn’t fetch when you told him to. He didn’t stay when you told him to. In fact, he did just about the opposite of what you told him to just about all the time.
But despite all his disciplinary shortcomings, I had loved that little dog. And I realized that had he been in the shed that day with Huckleberry, he would never have seen the inside of a shelter again.
But as it was, Chadwick hadn’t been in that shed that day.
Sometimes I found myself staring out the window, thinking about him. Remembering those hollow sad eyes of his. Wondering if I couldn’t hold onto the smallest hope that he was alive somewhere out there. Maybe someone had found him, wandering around the woods near the highway. Maybe somebody had taken him in and given him a good home. Maybe he was sitting by a fire right now with a full belly and somebody stroking his fur.
I hoped so.
But I’d come to terms with the fact that I would probably never know for sure what happened to the little dog.
Sometimes, there weren’t any honest happy endings in life. Sometimes it was a give and take. I had gotten Huckleberry back, but Chadwick would never return. He was lost forever, the only thing left of him being the damp and faded missing flyers I’d put up around town.
I closed my eyes and let out a long breath, trying to shake off that thought.
I just had to be thankful for what I did have. Thankful that for the most part, it had ended okay. Thankful that nobody had been hurt. And that the woman behind it all was going to get the help that she so desperately needed.
And while it still hurt, I knew that I could live with that ending.
The cranberries began to pop and split, and I turned the burner off. I was about to start on the white chocolate portion of the filling when Tobias stuck his head in from the front.
“Uh, Miss Cinnamon, the pies out here are going faster than hot potatoes. I’m thinking you’re half an hour away from selling out completely.”
I smiled.
It was only noon.
I wasn’t sure whether it was the scandal of the gingerbread competition, or that Daniel had been right all along about the folks in this town being blue collared, black coffee and pie kind of folks, but all the business I had lost to Pepper’s Pies had come back to me, and had come back in full force. The lines had been even longer than they had been before she moved in across the street, snaking around out the front door sometimes. I’d been working almost nonstop this last week, churning out pies like there was no tomorrow. I was tired, but I didn’t mind it much. I was just happy to see the dining room full of happy customers once again.
“Thanks, Tobias,” I said, nodding at him and smiling.
He returned the nod and then disappeared out into the front again.
“Hey, Tiana, do you think you have time to make up another batch of the Chocolate Bourbon Pecan pies?” I said, not looking up from the stove. “That one’s been a crowd-pleaser all week.”
There was no answer.
“Tiana?”
I turned around to look at her, but she was somewhere else entirely.
She was staring at the spot where Tobias had been, a faraway, dreamy expression on her face.
A realization suddenly hit me like a freight train.
So that was why she’d gotten that sassy new haircut and had been coming to work all dressed up lately. It was like I thought, Tiana had a new man in her life.
I just hadn’t realized the man was working in the shop with us.
I wondered how long this had been going on for, and whether it had been in front of me the whole time and I’d been too blind to see it, so caught up in my own trials these past few weeks.
She suddenly realized I was staring at her. She looked over at me, her face turning redder than the color of Santa’s suit.
“Uh, what was that, Cinnamon?” she said, swallowing hard.
“It was nothing.”
I smiled quietly to myself, then cleared my throat.
“Tiana, I’ve been meaning to ask you something for the past week,” I said, grabbing a few bars of white chocolate from the cupboard and peeling the tinfoil off.
“Oh yeah?” she said, the bright color in her cheeks fading slightly at the change in subject.
“Well, I don’t want to give you any extra work, especially since I know the holidays are crazy enough,” I said, chopping up the chocolate. “But being that the pie shop is so busy lately, I was thinking it might be helpful if we could move Tobias from the front of the house to back here. Now, he’s got some good experience in making pies, but he might need a little help getting to know the recipes. So I was wondering if instead of doing dishes this afternoon, you could teach him a thing or two about how things work here in the kitchen?”
I looked back at her.
She didn’t say anything, and I suddenly wondered if I had embarrassed her.
“I mean, only if you have the time,” I said, shrugging it off. “You can say no. I just thought…”
“No, no,” she said. “I mean, yes. I can do that Cinnamon. No problem. No problem at all. I’d, uh, I’d love to.”
I grinned.
“I really do appreciate it,” I said.
She smiled bashfully.
My heart filled up with that warm and cozy feeling I’d been missing so far this holiday season.
I wouldn’t have thought of putting Tiana and Tobias together, but thinking about it now, she might be just the kind of woman he would need. A special, good-natured, kind-hearted woman to believe in him and to help him get back on his feet.
And Tobias might be just what Tiana needed, too. A man who was a little rough around the edges, but who was also kind-hearted and special in his own right.
I sighed happily, then looked out the window.
Together, those two were going to be nicer than a warm Georgia breeze on a winter’s day.
Chapter 59
“Remember, Cin, how during your last dress fitting you said you thought that you looked like a sausage stuffed into a wedding dress?” she shouted from behind the curtain.
I smiled, recalling last year when my final wedding dress fitting went worse than a porcupine at an animal balloon party.
“How could I forget?” I said.
“Well you know what I look like right now?” she said.
“What?”
“I look like a Turducken stuffed into a wedding dress.”
“A what?”
“You know, one of them over-the-top Thanksgiving meals? A chicken stuffed into a duck stuffed into a turkey. A Turducken.”
I laughed.
“Kara, I just don’t believe that.”
“Just you wait and see,” she said.
The curtains parted swiftly, and a bride stepped out of the dress shop’s changing room.
The dress had long, soft lace sleeves, a sweetheart neckline, a flowing bodice that curved just right about her belly bump, and a train that sparkled like icicles on a sunny day.
The bride herself had a rosy complexion, almost a glow about her, even if she did have a concerned look on her face. A lovely veil cascaded down around her shoulders and her back, nearly touching the ground.
The bride was absolutely stunning.
My mouth fell open. I was quiet for a minute, unable to do anything but gawk.
“You see what I mean?” she finally said, looking down at herself and patting her gut. “Turducken.”
I shook my head vigorously.
“Kara, you’re the queen of exaggeration,” I said. “But that one about you being a duck turkey? That has to be the very worst exaggeration to ever come out of your mouth in all the years I’ve known you.”
I smiled.
“You’re the most beautiful New Year’s Day bride there ever was, and you know it.”
The edges
of her lips curled up slightly.
She shooed me away.
“Aw, maybe for a shotgun wedding, I am,” she said.
“No,” I said. “Just the most beautiful bride, period.”
She looked down at her dress and then back up at me.
“You mean it, Cin?”
“I mean it, Kara,” I said. “You look like a dream. And more than that, you look happy. You’re glowing.”
She smiled brightly.
“Well, you’re right on one of those counts,” she said. “I am happy.”
She twirled once in her dress, the train twisting ever-so-gracefully.
“You don’t even look like you were up all night last night burning the rest of your vows into wood,” I said, grinning mischievously.
She started laughing.
“I know you think I’m a nut, Cin,” she said. “And you’d be right.”
“Yes, but you’re my favorite kind of nut,” I said again.
She stared back in the mirror smiling at me. Then she looked back at herself.
“Well, let’s just hope I don’t gain another ten pounds in this next week,” she said. “Otherwise, come New Year’s, I’ll look like a chicken stuffed into a duck stuffed into a turkey stuffed into an ostrich.”
I shook my head.
Then I got up and gave my best friend a long hug.
“Kara, you’re the farthest thing from fowl there ever was,” I said. “And I couldn’t be happier for you, you beautiful, wood-burning lunatic.”
She laughed, a single tear of happiness rolling down her cheek.
Chapter 60
I tucked the trophy under my arm and pocketed the $500, then left through the back door of the pie shop.
I walked quickly down the street, weaving my way through shoppers carrying bulging bags filled with last-minute presents. A few flakes were falling from the sky, and I pulled the hood of my pea coat on over my head. I crossed the street, dodging a few slow moving cars. Then I stopped, taking in a deep breath before opening the front door to Pepper’s Pies.
I walked in, dusting off the snow from my coat.
I noticed that the dining room was only about half full. The blond girls who were usually at the cash register were no longer there.
The few people that were in the room hushed when I walked in.
I took in another deep breath.
In the aftermath of the Gingerbread Junction fiasco, the remaining judges had had an emergency session. In light of Pepper’s relation to Julianne Redding, and in light of the fact that the two of them had kept it a secret, the remaining judges had decided to disqualify Pepper from the competition. Meaning that the trophy and the award money had gone to the runner-up.
Which happened to be me.
And while I’d been dreaming of the Gingerbread Junction grand prize for weeks now, getting first place under these circumstances had taken all the joy out of it for me.
Because whether or not one of the judges had been biased, the bottom line was that Pepper’s gingerbread house was the best I’d ever seen, and that it had beaten mine.
And that was okay with me now. Because I was proud of my creation. My Dr. Zhivago ice palace was the best gingerbread house I had ever built. I’d put more of my heart and soul into it than any other house before. It represented a new personal best for me. And I had nothing to feel bad about. I’d been beaten, fair and square.
And I just couldn’t take an award for a first place finish that I hadn’t earned.
I walked up to the cash register and rang the bell. Nobody responded. I rang it again.
A moment later, a flustered Pepper emerged from the kitchen, her face red, flour all over her pink apron and shirt.
A look of embarrassment shined in her eyes when she saw me standing there.
She glanced at what I was holding, and she bit her full bottom lip.
“Look, can we talk, Pepper?”
She stared at me for a long moment, then looked down at her messy apron.
“I don’t see why you want to after what I did,” she said. “But come on in the back if you’d like.”
Chapter 61
“I don’t know what to say, Cinnamon,” she said, hardly able to look at me. “I’m ashamed. It’s as simple as that.”
I sat on one of the barstools in her kitchen, sipping a hazelnut latte that she’d just whipped up for me.
I had always considered myself one of those blue collar, black coffee and pie types. But this hazelnut latte was enough to make me reconsider my stance on the matter.
“I never meant to lie about being Jules’ half-sister,” she said. “But I just thought the competition was all in the spirit of fun. Jules said it would go a long ways toward establishing my business in the community, and she thought it wasn’t fair that I wouldn’t be able to enter because we were related. I did it because I just wanted to participate, you know? Be part of the community. I didn’t think it was a big deal.
“I guess I was pretty stupid thinking that.”
She let out a sigh, and those full lips of hers turned down at the edges, weighed down with guilt and regret.
“I can only imagine what you must think of me,” she said. “What this whole town thinks of me now.”
I started saying something, but she interrupted me.
“I’m not an angel, Cinnamon,” she said between gritted teeth. “And I never meant for people to get that impression about me.”
She ran a hand through her hair, and looked up at the ceiling.
“When I was a teenager, I did some pretty shady things. I was with this older guy for a while. I fell hard for him. So hard that I didn’t know wrong from right. He had this pet theft scam going where he’d steal pets to get the reward money. I thought he loved me as much as I loved him. I didn’t realize he was just using me because I looked innocent and knew how to handle dogs. He didn’t really want me for me, you know? And when the cops busted me, he was nowhere to be found.”
She rubbed her face.
“I’m not proud of that time in my life. But I turned myself around. I went to culinary school and then I studied in France. I worked hard and I—”
“Pepper, you don’t have to explain,” I said.
“No,” she said. “I do. I really do. Because I’m not a bad person, Cinnamon. I’m just somebody who’s trying to make something of her life. I’ve left those days behind me. I was only trying to do the right thing by returning those dogs. But looking back now, I know I should have told somebody. I should have told you or the Sheriff instead of trying to save Jules from herself.”
She reached her hand up to her mouth and started chewing on one of her nails absentmindedly. She suddenly looked very, very young to me.
“I shouldn’t have lied about being Jules’ sister, either,” she said.
She dropped her hand from her mouth. Those big blue eyes of hers became glassy, like a placid mountain lake on a calm morning. She swallowed hard.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
It was so simple. Those two, short little words.
But when she said them, a great weight lifted off my shoulders.
All that jealousy and anger that had burrowed its way into my heart just dissolved, melting away like the snow in the spring.
Pepper wasn’t a bad person. Maybe she’d done some bad things in the past, but nobody was perfect. She hadn’t come into town with the intent of ruining my business and stealing all my customers. She had come here looking for a fresh start, a place to make a name for herself.
And how could I hold that against her?
It wasn’t her fault that her sister had snapped. Pepper had just been trying to help her. And if I had been in her position, who’s to say I would have acted any different?
I didn’t know if Pepper Posey and I were ever going to be friends.
But we could be neighbors. Friendly neighbors at that.
I grabbed the trophy that was tucked under my arm and the $500 that one of the judges had
dropped off at my shop earlier that morning, and I handed both of them to her.
“Here,” I said. “I didn’t win this—you did.”
Her mouth dropped open in surprise.
“But Cinnamon, they gave this to you,” she said. “You deserve this more than I d—”
“No,” I said, interrupting her. “I don’t. You beat me, fair and square. The judges were four to one on the count. Even if you take your sister’s vote out of the equation, you still won. Your gingerbread house deserved to place first. And I can say without a doubt that you beat me on my best day.”
She smiled, her eyes growing full with water. She bit her lower lip.
“Cinnamon, that’s generous of you.”
“It’s the right thing,” I said.
“Well, I tell you what. I’ll accept the trophy,” she said. “But the money… well, I have an idea for that.”
She took the trophy from me and admired it for a long moment.
I smiled.
I’d lost, but the feeling I got from doing the right thing was worth a hundred Gingerbread Junction wins.
The trophy was now with its rightful owner.
Chapter 62
Reindeer grazed on front lawns. Santa jumped up from chimneys. Angels flapped their wings and blew their trumpets from porch railings. Wreaths sparkled in windows. And everywhere you looked, lights in purples, blues, greens and reds danced joyously through the night, evoking nostalgic memories of childhood.
I took in a deep breath of the frosty night air and then hooked my arm through Daniel’s as we walked through the festive neighborhood.
It was Christmas Eve – our official one year wedding anniversary. Two beautiful events in one.
After closing up the shop for the night, I had asked if Daniel wouldn’t mind walking me down to the Christmas River Humane Society so I could drop off the $500 from the Gingerbread Junction.
Pepper had had the idea to donate the money to the shelter instead of keeping it. I thought it was an admiral gesture and had offered to drop it off for her. Plus, stopping by the Humane Society gave me a chance to see if there was any news about Chadwick. Though deep down, I already knew the answer. It just somehow made me feel better to keep going through the motions, as if he could turn up any day.
