by Carol Ross
Aidan stopped to admire an old fishing boat and a rusty anchor that had been tucked in between two buildings as part of the town’s push to incorporate its history into the landscaping—an idea Emily had actively expounded on since she’d taken over as head of Rankins’s tourism bureau. He thought the tactic was extremely effective; the diverse history of the remote town was so compelling, what with fishing, mining, logging, fur trading... He smiled as he thought of Emily’s not-so-subtle attempt to guilt him into an interview.
He began walking again and forced himself to tune back into Drum’s speech. “...and the owner of the paper there—Laurel Davidson is her name—she is a go-getter I tell you what. I don’t think you can pass on this opportunity, Aidan. And they’re giving you free rein. You can talk—or not talk—about anything you want. Imagine the exposure this would be for Seeds? This could be an opportunity to generate some funding for your next project.”
Aidan hated that they were forced to mold their projects around funding. It made him feel like a politician. Although he had to admit financing for their next project would be nice. After one rejection had followed another, he and Blake had funded Seeds themselves. Their shoestring budget had made for painful stops and starts and much added difficulty to the process, but they’d done it.
Aidan stopped and carefully shifted the phone to his other hand. He glimpsed a familiar figure emerge from a doorway on the next block. Janie? Yes, he knew for sure when she paused and flipped that curtain of red hair over her shoulder. In spite of the challenges and the cut fingers, he’d enjoyed their morning of clam digging. There was so much about her that had been so...unexpected. He wondered again how he could have been so far off in his assessment of her when they’d met two years ago.
Emily had been right to chastise him for his comments; his first impression had been almost entirely inaccurate. And she may have been having an overly maternal moment that day in front of the bakery, but her boys were great kids.
He had hit it off with Reagan immediately, which was no surprise. He reminded Aidan a lot of himself—too much perhaps, because Aidan knew very well the challenges he faced, which was why he couldn’t say no when Reagan invited him over to check out his science project.
Gareth was exceedingly polite almost to the point of being aloof. But Aidan figured that was probably understandable after their initial meeting. He had the makings of an excellent basketball player and Aidan wondered if that might ultimately be the key to connecting with him.
He felt drawn to Janie and to her boys and he wasn’t quite sure why. Empathy maybe? Aidan had lost his father at a young age as well, so maybe that had something to do with it.
Plus, these people were important to his sister—they were Emily’s family now. So, it was safe to say that no matter what, they were also a part of Aidan’s life in some respect. So it only stood to reason that he should try to develop an amicable relationship, right?
Yes. He needed to fix this situation with Janie. Even as he realized that doing so might pose a bit of a challenge. She clearly wasn’t all that keen on him. Aidan grinned as he realized that he kind of liked that—that she didn’t seem intimidated by him.
He tried to think of an interesting conversation starter—maybe he’d go with the jellyfish sting. He watched as she fished around in her bag for a moment, pulled out a phone and began tapping on the screen.
And suddenly it occurred to him that there was one very obvious way to get to know her better—and to let her get to know him.
“Drum, stop, okay? Stop talking. I’ll do it. I’ll do the interview. I’ll go talk to Laurel Davidson right now. On one condition...”
He filled in Drum on his impulsive plan as he kept his gaze glued on Janie. He ended the conversation with Drum by promising to call back after he’d met with Laurel.
Suddenly Janie dropped the phone into her bag, looked both ways and hustled across the street. A twinge of disappointment nicked at him as he watched her head away from him down the sidewalk in the opposite direction—right past the bakery.
The bakery...
Another idea occurred to him, reinforced with something his nana had always told him—it was bad manners to show up as a guest at someone’s home empty-handed.
CHAPTER SIX
TONYA AND LILAH should make an air freshener that smelled exactly like the Donut Den. Janie decided this as she stepped through the door of the bakery only to be plunged into the most heavenly mix of scents: yeast, vanilla, cinnamon, chocolate, coffee—and today she could also smell...maple. They’d make a million dollars.
“Oh, Lilah, is that maple? Please tell me you’ve made Emily’s?” Emily’s were a new addition to the Donut Den—maple-glazed and custard-filled delights that Lilah had started baking at Emily’s request. They were so popular Lilah and Tonya had decided to name the pastry after her, which was only fitting as she was one of their best customers.
Lilah giggled. “That nose of yours is unbelievable, Janie. Yes, I just finished frosting a batch.”
Janie glanced at her cousin Shay. The bride-to-be’s face was contorted with a scowl as she stared down at a tray containing a vast array of cake bits tucked into paper muffin cups and labeled with tiny toothpick-and-paper signs—vanilla bean, toasted coconut, salted caramel, German chocolate... None of these delicious flavors were even remotely scowl-worthy.
Her cousin Hannah—Shay’s younger sister—was standing next to her.
“They all look delicious. How’s it going?”
Shay’s eyes met hers and Janie felt her heart lurch. Something was wrong. As Shay’s cousin, best friend and maid of honor Janie’s job was to fix it—whatever it was.
“Shay, what’s the matter?”
“Jonah booked our honeymoon.” Shay said these words like she was informing Janie that her fiancé had kicked a puppy into a street full of busy traffic.
“Oh... Well, that sounds like good news.”
“No-o-o,” she drawled. “He booked it without asking me.”
“But that sounds romantic.”
“Thaff’s what I said,” Hannah chimed in as tiny cake crumbs flew out along with the words. She covered her mouth with a napkin.“Oofhs, sorfy.” She held up a finger, made a show of swallowing. “I told her the same thing, Janie.”
“A Caribbean honeymoon sounds romantic?”
“Uh-oh.” Janie grimaced. Shay didn’t like tropical weather; she particularly disliked humidity. She didn’t sunbathe and she didn’t like to play in the ocean unless fishing in it counted. Shay was a doer, a go-getter—hiking, fishing, seeing sights, yes. Everyone knew that. Everyone except her lost but recently rediscovered high school/college love turned fiancé Jonah, apparently...
“You should have seen him when he told me—all proud of himself and so confident I would love it. The brochure has a picture of a hammock and a sunset on it. When I told him to surprise me I assumed he would surprise me with someplace that I would like. I never should have agreed to let him take on this task.”
“What did you tell him?” Janie asked carefully.
“I told him I’m not going to the Caribbean for my honeymoon. What do people even do there? Sit around and sweat? Fry their skin in the sun all day? No, thank you. Plus—I don’t even like the taste of rum.”
Hannah howled with laughter as Janie let out a snicker. She said, “Shay, I don’t think that sounds so bad. Cal and I didn’t even go on a honeymoon. I would be happy going anywhere.”
Shay’s eyes went wide as shock and horror transformed her features. “Oh, no... Janie, you’re right. I am a horrible person. Jonah is trying so hard and I’m being picky and snippy and ungrateful.” She let out a gasp. “I’m—I’m...bridezilla.”
“Shay—no, you’re not. You’re not bridezilla. You’re just stressed. You always do this. You take too much on yourself. Delegating i
sn’t only about asking someone else to do a task—it’s about letting go of it enough to not worry about how it turns out. Trusting in another person.”
“What? Really?” Shay looked distressed by the notion. She wasn’t exactly known for her ability to relinquish control of any situation.
Janie chuckled and shrugged. “I don’t know, but it sounds good. You’re letting Hannah and me choose the bridesmaid dresses. And I’m putting on your shower. You haven’t even asked me about it.”
Shay nibbled on a piece of cake. “That’s because I know you and Hannah will choose correctly and that the shower will be beautiful and perfect.”
Hannah chimed in enthusiastically, “Yeah, and that reminds me, Janie—this is funny. Jonah suggested we wear those skimpy French maid outfits in lieu of the traditional bridesmaid dresses since the wedding is going to be at the inn. You know—in keeping with the hotel theme?”
Janie and Hannah shared a laugh.
Shay scowled. “See what I mean? He’s not taking this seriously.”
“Shay, one of the things you love about Jonah is his sense of humor. I don’t think you’ve quite entered the bridezilla zone, but you might need to lighten up a bit.”
Hannah nodded her agreement as she chewed. “Mmm.” She pointed at the sign marked vanilla bean and lifted up a thumb. She added, “Janie’s right, Shay, this is supposed to be the happiest time in your life.”
Janie tried a bite of carrot-and-cream. “Oh, my goodness,” she drawled.
Shay nodded. “I know. Try the toasted coconut. Now there’s something positive about the Caribbean—it’s supposed to be full of coconuts, right?”
Janie chuckled and tried a piece, which seemed to melt in her mouth before she could truly appreciate the flavor. She picked up another bite—same effect.
“Lilah, you are a genius. How many flavors do we have to decide on?”
Shay said, “I’m thinking four—each tier a different flavor.”
Lilah suggested, “You could always add another flavor or two with a cupcake tower.”
A half hour later they’d successfully narrowed down the choices. Shay had, thankfully, already chosen the design for the cake. They talked frosting colors and discussed other details with Lilah.
When they were finished Shay and Hannah stepped outside, talking about the music for the wedding while Janie lingered to purchase a box of doughnuts. She thought it would be a nice treat for the kids, and admittedly a few pastries would give her something to look forward to that evening.
Looking forward to eating a doughnut, and knitting while watching her favorite television show—was that sad and pathetic? She thought about Aidan’s “mommy” description of her. Whatever, she didn’t care—this was her life and she’d take these little nuggets of happiness wherever she could get them.
Lilah handed over the bright pink box with one of her quirky smiles. Her voice was soft, but intense. “I feel so bad about the Boston cream pie the other day, Janie.”
“Not your fault, Lilah. It was just one of those things. It was a rough day.”
Lilah stared at her intently, her dark brown eyes reminding Janie of the fresh-brewed espresso she served. “It’s nice when life offers us another chance at something, though, don’t you think?”
Janie wasn’t sure if Lilah was trying to tell her something important and profound about her spiritual well-being or commenting on Shay and Jonah’s second chance at love. Lilah was prone to these moments of philosophical inquiry. Janie wasn’t sure she agreed, but she loved Lilah and knew her intentions were good.
“Yep, it sure is, Lilah.”
It wouldn’t be until later that Janie would realize Lilah wasn’t talking about either one of those things—and that in this particular case she most certainly would not agree. Because sometimes a second chance just meant another opportunity to make a mistake.
* * *
THE NEXT EVENING Janie scooped up her sobbing two-year-old from the kitchen floor and cradled him in her arms.
“Gareth?” she called. “What’s wrong with Finn?”
“He fell.” Gareth stepped into the kitchen and relayed the details of the incident. “He didn’t fall very hard, and I gave him his buddy bear, but he still wouldn’t stop crying. I think he might be getting a cold.”
“Thanks for trying, honey. You may be right about him being sick.” She propped Finn on her shoulder and began bouncing lightly around the kitchen as she put away the groceries she had brought in from the car. Gareth jumped in to help and by the time they were finished the baby was snoozing peacefully in her arms.
“Mom!” Reagan hustled into the kitchen, his red hair askew and his green eyes shining with excitement.
“Hey, Reagan—how was your day?”
“Good, but listen, I have something important to tell you. I took a sample of Finn’s mucus, looked at it under my microscope, and I—”
“Of what?” Janie blinked slowly.
Gareth filled a glass with milk. “Snot, Mom, he was looking at snot.”
Reagan stared at his brother, aghast. “Shut up, Gareth. That makes it sound gross.”
“It is gross.”
Reagan’s voice shifted into lecture mode, which sometimes brought out the worst in Gareth. “You think that you would know by now that it’s a perfectly natural occurrence. There are certain bodily functions that are common in all Homo sapiens and mucus in the nasal passage is one—”
Gareth laughed. “I can think of a couple you—”
“Stop!” Janie put up a hand to ward off a squabble or a verbal exchange of “natural” bodily functions, neither of which she was up to dealing with right now, although she wasn’t quite sure how to respond to Reagan’s comment.
“Listen, you guys—no fighting. But, Reagan, you have to admit it is kind of gross.” The deflated look on his face had her adding a quick placation. “For us nonscience people—even though it is, in fact, as you pointed out, natural.” All correct, it was just that he was constantly regaling them with these rather unconventional—okay, and kind of gross—truths.
Janie watched Reagan roll his eyes, no doubt wondering how he could possibly be saddled with such ignorant relations.
“I was careful, Mom. I didn’t touch it. But have you ever noticed how our own bodily excretions don’t gross us out nearly as much as other people’s do?”
Janie opened her mouth to respond but apparently he didn’t really expect an answer.
“I’m guessing it has a lot to do with pheromones because why else wouldn’t a mother vomit every time she changed her baby’s diaper?”
“Reagan—”
“I know. I’m getting off point. Mom, I used a swab and I was wearing gloves. You know how important it is not to contaminate a sample. Finn has—”
“Hi, sweetheart.” Claire walked into the kitchen. “You’re home early.”
“Hi, Mom. I am. I finished my column for next week, which has me looking forward to planting my own garden.” Janie laid a hand on Reagan’s shoulder. “Reagan, you were saying? You think Finn has...”
“A respiratory infection—I think Finn is getting an upper respiratory tract infection. You can’t see the virus with my microscope, I’d need an electron for that, but—”
Gareth let out a laugh. “You needed to magnify his boogers to figure out that he’s getting a cold? How about the coughing and the sneezing—wasn’t that kind of a giveaway?”
They all laughed at that, Reagan included, and Janie was glad the situation had so easily been defused.
“Mom, is it okay if I invited someone over tonight to help with my science project?”
“Sounds like a great idea, Reagan.”
Janie was thrilled; she secretly dreaded the science expo. She should enjoy helping the boys with their projects, and s
he did most of the time, but at eleven years of age Reagan already seemed to be smarter than she was—smarter than most everyone she knew. His project had something to do with electricity, and quite frankly the whole notion scared her to death.
“What do you guys want for dinner? Spaghetti or chili dogs?”
“Are there meatballs?” Reagan asked.
“Yep, I’ve got some in the freezer.”
“Spaghetti,” they answered in unison, and Janie smiled with satisfaction. It would be a rare and coveted night where everyone would eat the same meal without complaint.
Her mother took a now-sleeping Finn from her arms. Janie was elbow-deep in chopped lettuce for a salad when the doorbell rang. She wiped her hands on a dish towel as she headed for the entryway, assuming it was Reagan’s friend Elena. But when she opened the door she found Aidan Hollings standing on her porch, once again reminding her more of a hippie surfer than a doctor of anything in his rumpled khakis, faded T-shirt and worn Converse tennis shoes. His streaked blond curls were tucked behind his ears and caramel-colored whiskers graced his smiling face.
“Hi,” he said.
She forced a smile through her surprise. “Hi, um, what are you doing here?”
“Didn’t Reagan tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“Yesterday when we were unloading my boxes, he invited me over to take a look at his science project.”
This was so Reagan. Aidan was the “friend” he’d invited. She knew better than to be irritated with her son because details he considered pertinent were not always the same as hers.
“Sorry, come in. He did mention that he invited someone, but he wasn’t specific.”
“Oh, well...” Aidan held up the bag along with an easy smile, his bright, white-bandaged hand somehow a reminder of his humanity, and a cue for her to be civil. “Peace offering?”
“Aidan, really—that isn’t necessary.”
