And on their way home, when they were just past the Wal-Mart, still a few miles out of town, Karen had swerved too fast around a corner, and her car had careened into this ditch.
The girls were fine, but they were stuck. There was no service where they were. Tinka had tried sending Harper a text right after they crashed, but Tinka had no way to tell if it had gone through. They couldn’t call the police or AAA or anything. They were so far down from the road that no one driving by would be able to see them.
“What are we gonna do?” Jane asked.
Tinka shoved her phone into her pocket and pulled open the car door. “There’s no use sitting here. I’m going see what’s what.”
“By yourself?” Jane said.
Thinking of Sam, Tinka channeled her inner Walter and took charge of the situation. She was the queen of crises. She could handle this. “I’ll be fine.”
In her sandals, Tinka climbed to the top of the ravine, slipping in the mud every few feet. When she got to the road, she checked her phone again, shielding it with her hand as best she could. Still no service, and she was surrounded by nothing but trees. Who knew when or if a car would pass by. Who knew if she’d even want to flag down the kind of person who’d drive a car down a deserted country road during a horrible rainstorm. Horror movies were built on that very premise. She brushed her hair from her face. The rain wasn’t letting up.
She glared up at the sky and flipped it two very emphatic birds. She was supposed to be back at the Andersons’ house baking cakes right now. They had precious little time as it was.
But there was no point blubbering like a baby or getting pissed off. That wasn’t helping anyone. She stood up straight, smoothed down her soaking wet shirt, and surveyed the situation. Right now, with water streaming down her arms and nose and little bits of hail hitting her in the face, Tinka was as wet as she was going to get. Her clothes and hair were fully saturated. More rain wasn’t going to make a lick of difference at this point, so why not walk to safety? She hadn’t seen lightning in a while. She glanced down the road, in both directions. How far were they from that Wal-Mart they passed? Were they closer to the store or to North Pole?
Taking a guess, she took off in the direction of the Wal-Mart, but after about fifty feet or so, she heard a car coming from the opposite direction, from North Pole. She turned around and saw headlights coming toward her. Doing a fabricated math equation in her head, she tried to determine the likelihood that this was a person who wanted to murder her versus a person who might drive her somewhere for help. She bet on kindness and waved her hands, the raindrops and the bright headlights obscuring her vision. The car pulled over.
“We need help!” she shouted, praying this dude was friendly.
The guy jumped out of his truck and slid to a stop a few feet shy of her.
“Sam?” Tinka brushed hair and rain from her eyes.
“Are you okay?” His hands were in the front pocket of his hoodie.
Tinka’s whole body rushed with so much relief that she almost started crying. “I’m okay! Karen and Jane are down there. They’re fine, too.” Tears started streaming down her cheeks, mixing with rain. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Someone needed to help you.” He faced the ditch, making a big show of assessing the condition of Karen’s vehicle down below.
“Yeah, but you…the pontoon boat.” She remembered that first day at his house, when they’d gone out on the lake. “I said I was worried about no one looking out for me, and you said you’d do it. And here you are now.” She paused. “I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head. “Not now. It’s raining.”
“We can’t possibly get any wetter.” She pushed the dripping hair off her face.
“Seriously. Let’s just go.” He took off toward Karen’s car.
Tinka grabbed the sleeve of his wet hoodie. He still wouldn’t look at her. “I stayed up all night waiting to say this, and I’m going to say it. The Dylan thing. It was dumb, but seriously nothing. He was a sober person in my vicinity with two working ears. That’s it. I was so sad, Sam. I’d lost you just when I was starting to realize I luh—” She dropped his sleeve and clamped her hand over her mouth.
His eyes snapped to hers. It was the first time he’d looked at her since he got out of his truck.
Tinka’s hand still covered her mouth. She could spin this. She could figure out a way to cover for what she’d almost just said. She was starting to realize she…“loved professional wrestling.” No. It was time to be honest. As she dropped her hand, she widened her eyes, willing him to see that she was finally hiding nothing. “I was starting to realize that I…love…you.” She winced, waiting for him to laugh or run away screaming.
“That’s a big word,” he said.
She nodded. “It’s stupid, I know. We’ve known each other for a minute.”
His dimple flashed for one bright, glorious second. Then he shrugged. “Maybe, but I kinda think it’s the right word.”
“You do?” She could’ve sworn her heart was banging out the Hallelujah chorus against her ribs.
He crossed the space between them and pulled her toward him. She never had a second to think as he put his lips to hers. Tiny bits of hail cracked Tinka on the head, but none of it mattered because Sam was kissing her again. Sam was holding her in his arms and it was like all her problems—past, present, and future—had been solved.
She pulled away from him slightly and aimed her mouth at his ear. “I was worried we’d never get to do that again.”
“Can we keep doing it?” His lips tickled her earlobe, and she shivered.
“Yes, please,” she whispered. “But not right this second. I have cakes to make.” She rested her head on his chest. Her tears dribbled onto his “Goonies Never Say Die” hoodie. “I spent all last night on my parents’ front porch waiting for you to come home, and when you didn’t it almost killed me.”
He pulled away, holding her at arm’s length, a glint in his eye. “You slept on the porch all night?”
“In a horribly uncomfortable lawn chair.”
“For me?”
“For you.”
His lips parted, and Sam started to lean down to kiss her again, but he stopped himself. “Matthew,” he said, almost like he was in pain. “Cake.”
Tinka nodded with a sigh. “And we should probably rescue Karen and Jane, too. They were just starting to maybe like me again. I don’t want to blow it.” She grabbed Sam’s hand, squeezing it hard to convince herself this was real, and the two of them half slid, half ran down the hill to Karen’s car together.
…
“It’s a privilege to watch you work,” Sam said as Tinka spread frosting on the bottom layer of Matthew and Hakeem’s wedding cake late Friday afternoon.
She smirked at him, and Sam had to bite his cheek to keep himself from grinning even bigger and more like a goofball. Tinka was smiling at him. For real. She liked him, and not in a friendly fake-boyfriend way. For the past twenty-four hours, she’d been in his house baking cakes and pies, and the two of them had used every small opportunity to touch each other—hands grazing at the sink, rubbing shoulders near the oven, “accidental” kisses behind the pantry door. Karen had said they were disgusting, but she’d said it with a smile.
Tinka stood back from the layer of cake she’d finished frosting. “I think this is good for now. I’ll come over early tomorrow, put it together, and decorate it. That will give it less time to collapse.”
“It won’t collapse.” Sam hopped off the counter, hoisted up the cake, and carried it toward the fridge. “Door.”
She pulled it open; then Sam crouched down to place the cake on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator, where every available square inch was crammed with pies, cookies, and the other three frosted layers of cake. The Andersons had had to move all their actual food down to the basement. “Everything looks delicious,” Sam said. “I can’t wait to try it.”
Tinka crouched down next to him
and rested her head on his shoulder. She turned her head and kissed his arm. They stayed like that for a moment, leaning against each other, until his dad’s voice behind them boomed, “We have air conditioning, you know.”
Blushing, Sam stood and helped Tinka from her crouch. His dad was standing in the kitchen with a middle-aged lady Sam didn’t recognize.
His dad gestured toward the woman. “I wanted to bring my friend Marge over to see what you’ve done today. She’s the one who owns the bakery in South Carolina. Marge, this is Tinka. Tinka, Marge.”
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Tinka said, shaking her hand. When Marge turned toward the fridge, Tinka shot Sam a scared face. He gave her a thumbs-up.
As Marge perused the baked goods Tinka had made over the past two days, Sam walked her through each item. “There’s a sour orange pie, chocolate chess pie, grasshopper pie, strawberry-radish pie—”
Marge turned around. “Radish?”
Tinka flushed. “For something different.”
“Can I try a slice?”
Tinka pulled one of the strawberry radish pies off the top shelf and cut a piece for Marge. “We have a couple of these, so…” Shrugging, she backed away. Sam wrapped an arm around her waist for support.
Marge took a tiny bite of the filling, savoring it. Then she broke off a piece of the crust. “Nice flaky crust,” she said. “And I really enjoyed the spice of the radish. You have a good hand with flavoring, not too sweet.”
“Thank you.”
Marge ate a second, larger forkful. “John says that you go to Florian’s Academy.”
“I do.”
“My bakery is near there. If you’re interested in working during the school year, I’m always looking for help.”
“That would be amazing.”
Marge handed her a business card. “Call me when you’re back at school.”
“Thanks.” Tinka stared down at the card. After his dad and Marge had left the room, she turned to Sam. “Wow. This is for real.”
“Sure is.”
“I mean, I’m really going back to school,” she said.
“And I’m going to L.A., but not for, like, six weeks.” He tried to put a positive spin on things.
“That’s practically a lifetime.”
“We’ll probably hate each other by that point, and I’ll never want to see your face again,” Sam said.
Tinka stepped closer to him and put a hand on his cheek. “I won’t hate you. Guaranteed. Not six weeks from now, at least. Six months, on the other hand…” Joking, she wiggled her eyebrows.
Sam wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. “We’re setting ourselves up for a lot of heartache.”
“Maybe. But it makes me want to enjoy every minute we have together here. I can’t imagine going to the movies on Saturday night or the arcade or anything without you. North Pole is Sam.” She hugged him tighter. “And I want Sam.”
“You have Sam.”
She squeezed him one more time and then backed away. “But you don’t have Tinka, at least not tonight.”
He made a sad face.
“Don’t look at me like that. You’ve got your brother’s rehearsal dinner over at the golf club, and I have to sleep for, like, the next fifteen hours.” She opened her eyes wide to show him how puffy and glassy they were.
“But you don’t have to go yet, do you? It’s still early.” Sam checked his phone. He still had an hour or two before he had to start getting ready.
She leaned in close and kissed his cheek. “It’s not early when you’ve been up for almost thirty-six hours straight.”
“You have a point.” But they had so little time together, he wanted to spend every moment with her for the next six weeks, taking mental snapshots in full color. “Hey, were you aware that it’s customary for the wedding cake maker to save a dance for the best man, you know, if she wants?”
“She wants.” Tinka grabbed a plate of cookies for Karen and Jane and headed toward the back door. “Oh.” She spun around. “By the way, I left you something on your pillow to remember me by.” She winked and headed out the sliding glass door.
Not hesitating for a second, Sam ran upstairs and found a plate of cookies on his pillow, the kind his mom used to make, the ones Tinka had said she’d make him as a thank you for driving her to get her stitches the first day they met. “Alfajores,” the note said, “as promised.”
Sam took a bite of one and the flavor exploded inside his mouth—silky caramel and flaky, buttery shortbread. They were even better than he remembered.
He glanced at the suit hanging over his closet door. He wasn’t about to put that on until the last minute, so he grabbed the plate of cookies and went to Harper’s room.
She was doing her makeup and turned toward him. With only one eye done so far, she looked a little like Alex from A Clockwork Orange.
Sam held out the plate. “Here.”
Eyeing him warily, Harper stood and grabbed a cookie. “These look like Mom’s.”
“Try it.”
Harper took a bite. “Oh my God.” She held a hand to her forehead and dramatically swooned against the doorjamb.
“Right?”
Harper snatched the plate from him and dashed into the hallway. She banged on Matthew’s door.
“Harper, your face,” Matthew said when he saw her. He’d just gotten out of the shower and was wearing only a towel.
“Shut up,” Harper said. “Try this.”
Matthew took a tiny bite. A slow smile spread across his face. “Mom’s cookies. I forgot about these. Ugh!” He dabbed the corner of his eye with a bent knuckle. “I’m going to look like a blubbering mess at the rehearsal.”
“And no one will care.” Tears stung Sam’s eyes, probably because his brother was crying. Older brothers weren’t supposed to cry, even on days like these. Sam blew out a shaky breath. “We’re allowed to be sad. Everyone will understand.”
“Sam!” Harper hugged his arm. “You’re crying.”
“No, I’m not.” He wiped a rogue tear from his cheek.
She squeezed his bicep. “You’re going to make me ruin my makeup.”
Matthew sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Which would be for the best.”
Harper playfully kicked his shin.
“I’m really glad you’re both here,” Sam said. “I kind of hated you for leaving me with all the wedding minutiae, but it was a good distraction. I miss Mom. I missed you guys. I’m going to miss this place.”
“We’re going to be so spread out,” Harper said. “Matthew and Hakeem will be in New York. Sam, you’ll be in California. Everyone’s abandoning me. I’m gonna be stuck here in North Pole with Maddie and Dad.”
“And all your friends.” Sam’s voice broke. This weekend was bringing a lot of feelings to the forefront. The whole college thing seemed so unnatural to him at the moment, so cruel. He was having the best time of his life right where he was; but then one day the calendar would flip, and he’d be whisked away to a whole other state where he’d know no one. “I can’t believe I have to leave.”
“Everyone does at some point,” Matthew said. “And you can always come back. This is your home.”
“But I don’t want to go,” Sam said, even though he knew that wasn’t totally true. He wanted to go to college and he wanted to study film, just not right this minute. He was going to miss too much and too many people. “I’m sad.”
Harper threw an arm around him. “Sam’s the emotional wreck for once. I love it.”
Matthew ushered them into his room, cookies and all. “We’ve got some time before the rehearsal. Unload on us, Sam. It’s our turn to make you feel better.”
Chapter Sixteen
Tinka trudged home from Sam’s house, armed with a plate of cookies for Jane and Karen. They’d been such a huge help over the past two days, they deserved to admire (and taste) their handiwork. And Tinka was pretty sure she deserved to collapse in a heap on her blowup bed for the
next twelve hours or so.
But sleep, however, had to wait. When she opened the front door of her parents’ house, she was greeted by her mom and dad, who were lounging on one of the drop cloth-covered couches in the living room.
“The mechanic called,” her dad said. “Karen should be able to drive the car home early next week. The damage wasn’t too bad.”
“That’s good,” Tinka said.
“You’ve been gone a while.” Her mom closed her book and set it on the coffee table. “Jane said you were working on Sam’s brother’s wedding cake?”
“The bakery screwed up, so we decided to make our own.”
Her dad filled in an answer on his crossword puzzle. “It was nice of you to help.”
She was ready to let this go, to disappear downstairs and hit the bed, but here was her chance to finally have this conversation. “I wasn’t just helping, though. I was kind of in charge of the whole thing.”
Her parents stared at her as if they didn’t understand her words.
Tinka stepped into the living room, put the plate of cookies on the coffee table, and sat across from her parents. “I’m pretty good at it, actually. Baking.”
“Since when?” her mom asked. “I’ve never known you to eat a cake, let alone make one.”
“I’ve been baking for a long time. I used to do it at Karen’s, though, because you were pretty strict about me using the stove, and you didn’t like me eating sugary stuff.”
Both parents stared at Tinka for a moment. She got the picture that maybe they were questioning whether or not they were still drunk from the other night.
“Baking?” her mom asked.
“Baking,” Tinka said.
Again, they peered at her for a few beats.
“I know I shouldn’t be shocked by this. I mean, you’re talking about baking, not cliff diving or something, but it feels so out of nowhere,” her mom said.
Like you guys moving to North Pole, Tinka added silently. “Actually.” Tinka cleared her throat. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you guys about this for a while. I spent most of last year thinking about it, and this is what I want to do with my life. I want to bake. I’d like to go to culinary school.”
Artificial Sweethearts (North Pole, Minnesota) Page 19
