Wedding Date in Hot Springs, Arkansas

by Annalisa Daughety

Reagan nodded. “It was before the twins came along. My mom was really good about offering to keep Izzy and Ava Grace.”

  “So find someone else. Figure it out. Because I don’t think you can go on like this for much longer. Even if you have to get two sitters—maybe someone from church can watch Izzy and Ava Grace and Chad’s mom can watch the twins. But you need some help.”

  Reagan had been thinking the same thing lately. “Chad’s mom called earlier in the week and offered to let the kids stay the night with them. I declined the offer since I hated to impose like that.”

  “She offered. Do it. Impose.” Violet grinned. “You and Chad have some stuff to work out. Who knows? Maybe a romantic date night is just what y’all need.”

  True. She could make a reservation at one of their favorite places. It would be so nice to take some time to reconnect without worrying about the kids. “As soon as he gets back from Miami…I’ll run it by him.”

  Violet grinned. “Perfect.”

  A woman in a white coat walked into the waiting area. “Ladies, if you’ll follow me, I’ll take you downstairs to the baths.” She led them down a hallway and to a staircase. “Watch your step. Once you’re finished with the baths, you’ll come back upstairs for the massage and facials. The warm water will loosen your muscles,” she explained.

  They walked past the public baths where bathing-suit clad people lounged in the steamy water. “Look at that,” she whispered to Violet. “I’ve read about the public baths, but didn’t realize it would look like a big hot tub.”

  Violet giggled. “That’s why I booked us each a private bath. It will be like we each have a personal hot tub.”

  It sounded divine.

  Another spa worker in a white coat met them at the doorway to the private baths. She held two cups of ice water. “Here you go.” She handed one to each of them and motioned for them to follow her into the room.

  “Your water is running now,” she said, consulting her clip board. “Reagan?”

  Reagan stepped forward. “That’s me.”

  “Right this way.” She led Reagan into a tiny room with an antique-looking tub in the corner. “I’ll start your bubbles,” she said. She bent down and flipped a switch, and the water started bubbling. “Is this your first time in the Spa City?”

  Reagan shook her head. “I’ve been here before, but never to the thermal baths.”

  “Well you’re in for a treat. The thermal waters have been used therapeutically for thousands of years. The water is high in silica, calcium, magnesium, free carbon dioxide, bicarbonate, and sulfate.” She smiled. “Try to say that fast.”

  Reagan laughed. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy the experience.”

  “The timer will start when I close the door. You’ll hear me knock when it’s time to get out.” She motioned toward a tray next to the tub. “There’s an extra ice water for you to drink. It’s recommended that you hydrate your insides as well.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “There’s a bell on the tray—ring it if you need anything and I’ll come in.” She poured a cup full of salts into the tub. “Green tea to help with relaxation,” she explained. “Enjoy.” She closed the door behind her.

  Reagan sank into the bath. This was heavenly. She could barely remember the last time she was alone without someone banging on the door or having to keep her ears open for the baby monitor. She leaned her head back against the rolled towel and closed her eyes. There was even a bell to ring in case she needed something. Not that she’d ring it, but the thought made her smile.

  Tomorrow she’d corral her children back into the van and they’d head back to their home and their full week. Monday, she’d drop Izzy off at school and take Ava Grace to gymnastics and call the pediatrician to schedule Scarlett and Simon for their yearly check up. She’d pick Chad up from the airport and send her mother the new pictures she’d just gotten from the photographer.

  For now though, all that could wait.

  Now she could just be Reagan, woman at the spa with no responsibilities.

  Bliss.

  Chapter 19

  Reagan McClure: JUST LEFT THE SPA. HOPE MIAMI IS NICE. YOUR MOM OFFERED TO KEEP THE KIDS NEXT FRIDAY SO WE COULD HAVE A DATE. DOES THAT WORK WITH YOUR SCHEDULE? (Text message sent September 29, 3:02 p.m.)

  Chad McClure: GLAD YOU’RE HAVING FUN. MIAMI IS RAINY. NEXT FRIDAY SOUNDS GREAT. LOVE YOU, BABE. SEE YOU SOON. (Text message sent September 29, 3:15 p.m.)

  Violet pulled a pan of cupcakes from the oven. “Here’s the first batch from the bakery kitchen.”

  “The first of many,” Reagan said. “And they smell amazing.”

  “Thanks. While I wait on them to cool, let me show you what I have in mind for the rest of the shop.” Violet motioned for Reagan to follow her to the counter that held the cash register.

  “Can I just say that I think this is a terrific setup? You have so much space behind the counter, and having a station to ice cupcakes and an oven and everything right there…I think people will love it,” Reagan said.

  Violet nodded. “I was afraid it would be weird at first because customers will literally be able to see the whole process. But I think it will go really well. In the afternoons, Shadow will work the register while I do any baking or icing. But mostly I’m going to try and get several batches baked each morning before I open.”

  “What time?”

  Violet sighed. “I’m thinking we won’t open until ten. And then I’ll probably stay open until seven. It might all depend on the season.”

  “Good plan,” Reagan agreed.

  “I’ll be closed on Sunday and Monday.” She glanced over at Reagan. “Do you think that’s a bad business decision?” Being closed on Sunday was very important to Violet. She didn’t like the idea of having to miss church for work, and she didn’t want to have employees that had to make that kind of sacrifice either. The sales she might make just weren’t worth it.

  Reagan shook her head. “It sounds like a smart idea to me. I totally get where you’re coming from. I’m sure there are others who might disagree, but I think it is probably the best choice for you. Besides, I’ll bet Saturday will be one of your busy days and you’ll be glad you have Sunday and Monday to recover.”

  Violet nodded. “That’s what I’m guessing. I visited one of my favorite cupcake shops in Little Rock a couple of weeks ago and asked them some questions. Their hours are nine until six, which I guess could be a possibility for me in the winter. And they told me Saturday is so busy sometimes they actually sell out.” Violet couldn’t imagine her cupcakes selling out, but it was a nice dream.

  “Have you settled on a name yet?”

  Violet groaned and shook her head. She’d been brainstorming names for two weeks and was finding it one of the toughest decisions of her life. “I need something simple. Something that looks good on the sign out front. Something that’s fun.” She shook her head. “I’m having a terrible time deciding.”

  “What are your top choices?”

  “Icing on the Cake.” Violet raised her eyebrows in question.

  Reagan shook her head. “Too cutsey. What else?”

  “Hot Springs Cupcakes.”

  “Too boring. Next?” Reagan grinned.

  “Cupcakes by Violet.”

  Reagan made a face. “Too cliché.”

  “Central Avenue Cupcakes.”

  Reagan’s eyes lit up. “Definitely that one. Central Avenue Cupcakes. That’s perfect! It tells the location—and everyone who visits Hot Springs visits Central Avenue. It’s simple and catchy.” She nodded. “And I think we can definitely create a great logo.”

  “I hope so.” Violet ran her hand along the counter. “Central Avenue Cupcakes. I like it. Thanks for helping me figure it out.” She’d been leaning toward that one all week but kept second-guessing herself. It was nice to have her pick reinforced by Reagan.

  “You’re welcome. Remember that I do have a little bit of experience with that kind of thing,” Reagan said.

&
nbsp; Violet motioned for Reagan to follow her around the counter and into the large open space right inside the entry door. “I’ll leave space for a line to form here.” She pointed. “And then I’ll get four or five tables to fill the rest of the space. How do you think that will look?”

  “Amazing. What kind of tables?”

  “Probably mix and match. I found a couple of options at a thrift store last week. I’m going to go back tomorrow and see if they still have them.” She knew some people would think it was weird to have tables and chairs that didn’t exactly match one another. But she’d been to shops with décor like that and thought the effect was quaint.

  “What color?”

  Violet grinned. “You know me and my funky style. I’m going to get Shadow to help me paint them. We’ll probably do the tables white and then paint the chairs in a variety of fun colors. I may even see about putting some kind of different design on each table.” Shadow had mentioned being a good artist, and next week Violet would put that to the test.

  “That will look amazing next to the yellow wall.” Reagan looked around. “This place will definitely be ‘you’, if you know what I mean.”

  Violet laughed. “I do. I’m planning to bring my record player up here and put it in the corner.” She pointed to a little nook. “And I have my great-grandmother’s quilt squares I’m thinking of framing and putting on the wall.” The quilt squares would give it a personal touch, plus knowing she had a family heirloom in her store would make her happy.

  Reagan clapped her hands. “This is really going to be an awesome place. I’m so happy for you.”

  “Thanks. I’m still a little shell-shocked that I’m actually doing it. And I’m so scared of the place tanking.” Her mother’s words about her impending financial ruin rang in her head every night when she went to bed.

  “You didn’t buy the building, right?”

  Violet nodded. There’d been no way she would’ve bought the place without a trial run as a renter. What if the business failed and she was stuck with payments on a building? “Just renting for now.”

  “So if something crazy happens and the place isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, you’ll sell your equipment and move on. But I’m putting my money on you and the shop being a smashing success.” Reagan leaned against the counter. “I’m the last person who should be saying this because I’m so guilty of it, but stop worrying. Pray about it and do your best on the shop, but don’t worry so much.”

  Violet smiled. She thought about Jackson and his little pep talk the other day. So many people believed in her. So why did she have such a hard time believing in herself?

  Jackson paused on the sidewalk outside of the bake shop. He should’ve asked more questions about who would be in attendance tonight. The only thing he knew for sure was that Violet had texted to make sure it would count toward their date number.

  “Jackson?” a voice called from behind him.

  He turned around to see a blond woman striding toward him. “Reagan. Long time no see.”

  “It’s been a long time,” Reagan agreed. “I came to see Violet graduate from college—you know, after she had to attend the summer semester. Seems like you graduated that day, too.”

  He might be making some progress in getting back in Violet’s good graces, but clearly Reagan would take more time. “I did. You look well.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “We went to the spa today. It’s been a nice day.” She gestured toward the bake shop. “Have you seen the place yet?”

  “I helped paint the inside.”

  The surprise on her face was unmistakable. “I see. I didn’t realize you and Violet were such friends.”

  Jackson winced. So Violet wasn’t telling her closest friend about their “relationship” yet? That seemed strange. And kind of hurtful. “We see each other now and then.”

  Reagan nodded. “She mentioned a while back that you’d let her stay at your lake house, but I didn’t know that meant the two of you were actually friends.”

  “Well we are. She’s a great girl.”

  Reagan leveled her blue eyes on his. “She is. And your antics in college drove her crazy. To tell you the truth, I’m surprised she gives you the time of day.”

  Had he really been that bad? Sure, he’d messed up their presentation. And caused her boyfriend to dump her. “I don’t remember it being that bad.”

  “Jackson, you told all the guys in your dorm that she put the moves on you. And you printed up a T-shirt with a very unflattering picture of her on it. Do you remember that?”

  He’d forgotten. At the time he’d thought it was one of his best, most memorable pranks. “I wore it under my team jersey and told her if she didn’t come to all of my intramural basketball games I’d take my jersey off so everyone would see the picture.”

  Reagan nodded. “And I’m pretty sure you’re the one who managed to put her name and phone number with a ‘call me, I’m desperate’ message on the big screen in the auditorium that showed up during chapel announcements.”

  Their school had a daily chapel service, which meant Violet had been effectively humiliated in front of the entire student body. He’d forgotten about that one as well. “I guess I gave her a pretty hard time. Honestly, I’d sort of blocked that stuff out of my mind.”

  “Well I can guarantee you she hasn’t. Violet has always felt like an outcast. She’s lived her life marching to the beat of her own drum. Because of that, she’s never had the best self-confidence. And the one thing that she’s always hated is to be the center of attention.”

  Jackson could admit that he’d been horrible to her. He’d been horrible to a lot of people. But Reagan would never understand his frame of mind at the time, and she obviously didn’t think people could change. “I’m trying to make up for all of that now.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment.

  “Just don’t hurt her again,” Reagan said finally.

  Jackson nodded. “Of course.” He opened the bake shop door and held it open for Reagan. If she had that much animosity toward him, it was no wonder Violet was counting down the days until their deal was over. Those pranks hadn’t seemed so major to him at the time, but looking back now, maybe he had more to make up for than he’d first thought.

  “Thanks,” Reagan said softly.

  He followed her inside the shop and was greeted by the wonderful aroma of freshly baked cupcakes. He spotted Violet arranging cakes on a platter. “Those look wonderful and smell even better.”

  She looked up and grinned. “Thanks. Today has been amazing. We got a ton of work done on the marketing stuff.” She threw her hand up like a spokesmodel. “Welcome to Central Avenue Cupcakes.”

  “Nice name. I like it a lot.”

  She beamed. “Reagan helped me decide which one would be best. And I think she has some really cool ideas for the logo. Hopefully by this time next week, the signage will be ordered for the front of the store and I’ll have business cards and flyers.” She pointed to the arrangement of cupcakes. “Reagan took a ton of pictures today that I think are going to look awesome on a website. There’s just so much to think about.”

  “Just take a breath. You don’t have to have absolutely everything done for the opening. Think of it as a soft opening—just for locals. Then you have the rest of the fall and winter to really beef up your marketing in time for the spring and summer tourist season.”

  Violet nodded. “You’re probably right. I just keep thinking of things I need to do. It’s easy to get overwhelmed.”

  “In my experience, the thing you should concentrate on first is making the best cupcakes possible. Get the inside of the store finished. Then after you’ve opened and people have sampled the cupcakes and soaked up the atmosphere here, they’ll tell their friends. I predict you’ll do a lot of word-of-mouth business.”

  She frowned. “I really hope so.”

  “Do I still detect some worry?” he asked.

  Violet shrugged. “Maybe a little. There’s
definitely a fear of the unknown.”

  “But that’s what makes it exciting, right? The fact that life is full of surprises.”

  “Listen to you being all philosophical. What’s gotten into you?”

  He chuckled. “I’ve always been philosophical. Maybe you never noticed it till now.”

  “Whatever. Sometimes I think you’re just trying to butter me up.”

  “Nah, just trying to be the best fake boyfriend I can be,” he whispered in her ear. It was the closest he’d ever been to her, and he could smell the sweet scent of her shampoo.

  She laughed. “I guess.” She motioned to where Reagan stood, talking to an older lady. “That’s Mrs. Kemp. She owns the shop next door. And did you get to speak to Reagan?”

  “She’s not exactly a fan of mine.”

  Violet shrugged. “Sorry. She has a really good memory, so it’s kind of hard for her to accept you and me as anything other than enemies.” She grinned mischievously. “I mean, we’ve always been really good at being enemies. So I can see how she’d be confused.”

  “I guess. Maybe you should put in a good word for me though.” He grinned.

  “Maybe I will.” Violet returned his grin. “Maybe I will.”

  Dear Mama,

  Thomas broke up with me. It’s all Rachel’s stupid fault. She put a picture on Facebook of the two of us getting ready for the dance. Thomas told me he couldn’t possibly go out with someone who was such a conformist.

  I don’t think me wanting to go to a school function with my friends makes me a conformist, do you? Either way, I’m not speaking to Rachel right now. I told her not to post it because I didn’t want him to see.

  She said it was silly of me to be that way and that Thomas is the one who is stupid. Actually she called him pretentious.

  Oh well. Next week is the week I start working normal hours at the bake shop. It has a name now—Central Avenue Cupcakes. I think that’s a pretty good name. Violet told me at church yesterday that my job this week is going to be helping her paint the tables and chairs! I told her I was fine doing whatever, but to tell you the truth, I’m pretty excited about painting.