by Tara Sheets
“What do you mean? My shop is ruined. It will take me days to clean up and repair the damage.”
“We have my place. The kitchens, the ovens. It’s all ready to go.”
Emma glanced around at the industrial-size ovens. The sleek pantry shelves, stacked with everything she could ever need. It was a baker’s dream come true. And it could work, she realized. There was so much space, they could work through the night and have more than enough inventory.
“You want me to work here? Tonight?”
Hunter shook his head. “No, I don’t want you to work here. I want you to help me, because I need you. But only if you want to. And I want you to let me help you. We could do it together.”
Emma ran her hands along the shelves. She walked over to the brand-new ovens, taking in the diamond-bright appliances. Her limbs began to buzz with brightly coiled energy. They could do this. They could make it work. “We don’t have much time.”
“No, we don’t. But I bet if we worked together, we could do it.” Several moments of silence passed between them.
“But this is your inventory. These are your supplies. All mine are gone.”
“We’ll share the profits,” he said decisively. “Though you’ll get more, because I’m just supplying the raw ingredients. That’s nothing compared to what you do.”
“No, we have to split it evenly,” she insisted.
“We can argue about that later. Tell me you’re in.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. It was the same look he had when he recounted the tale of his GI Joes waging battle on his mother’s tulip garden. “Are you in?”
“This is crazy,” Emma said, unable to stop the grin that stretched across her face.
“Yes.” He rested his forehead on hers. “That’s how I know it’s right.”
* * *
They worked together in perfect synthesis. Hunter had no idea how to bake, but he made an excellent understudy. Emma pulled out all the recipes from memory that would be the easiest to create in bulk. Chocolate and vanilla cupcake batters, with several different frostings to distinguish them. She should have been worried that she didn’t have her grandmother’s recipe book with her, but she felt nothing but exhilaration.
An hour into baking, Emma rummaged in her tote bag for her phone. She dialed Juliette and explained where she was.
“Are you kidding me right now?” Juliette asked. “You’re really in Hunter’s kitchen with him. Baking.”
“That’s right,” Emma said. “We’re going to be here pretty late, so can you take Buddy until tomorrow?”
Juliette agreed, then added, “Be careful.”
“Why?” Emma asked.
“Oh just, you know. It seems like whenever you and Hunter find yourselves alone in a kitchen . . .”
“Right,” Emma said, glancing at Hunter. He had rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, revealing tanned, muscled forearms, and he was licking chocolate frosting from a spoon. It was far more distracting than she wanted to admit. “We’ll be fine.”
When Emma said good-bye and tossed her phone back into her tote, a single leaf of paper slid out and fluttered to the floor. She knew what it was before she even picked it up. Emma cradled the ancient recipe in her hands, a twinge of nervous excitement settling in her stomach. It was “Bliss Day,” the recipe her grandmother had said was nothing but discord and heartache. Somehow it had made its way into her purse. She tilted her head to the ceiling and wanted to laugh. The house was nothing if not persistent.
Emma was about to tuck the paper back into her bag, when she stopped, stunned.
“What is it?” Hunter asked, eyeing her as he washed utensils in the sink.
“It’s just . . . this recipe,” Emma murmured.
The recipe never worked for her grandmother, but that’s because she had the last ingredient wrong. With diamond clarity, Emma suddenly understood why her grandmother hated that recipe. It was the one she must have used for her picnic all those years ago with Sam. The purple cupcake. Her grandmother had been trying to create a day of bliss for herself. The thought flooded Emma with a sudden heartache for her grandmother. If only she had used the correct recipe. Would it have worked as it was supposed to? Would her grandmother have married Sam? Would Emma have ever been born?
She sighed and brushed her fingers lightly over the aged paper. She would never know the answer to that, but she ached for her grandmother’s loss. Life was so unpredictable, and sometimes seemed too fragile to bear. But what could be done about it? The best anyone could do was to be brave and hold on, and try to love each other no matter what. In the end, that was the only thing that mattered. It was the only thing you carried with you.
Emma now knew she held the true recipe for “Bliss Day” in her hands. What if she let herself be brave? What if she threw caution to the wind and just tried it? It was rumored to create the happiest of days to all who tasted it, even a Holloway. God only knew she could use a little bit of bliss.
Turning to Hunter, she laid the recipe on the counter. “This is an ancient recipe from my grandmother’s book.”
“I can see that.” He peered down at the faded leaf of paper.
“It’s rumored to bring about a day of bliss for everyone, including Holloways.”
Hunter glanced up at her and shrugged. “We’d better get to work, then.”
Emma wanted to laugh. He made everything seem so simple. Maybe it was.
A sense of carefree happiness rolled softly over her skin as she glanced at the recipe. The ingredients were simple enough, but the measurements weren’t precise. She would have to go with her instincts this time, just like her grandmother had always urged her to do. Emma closed her eyes and found that for the first time, she wasn’t afraid. She was . . . excited. She felt stronger than she had ever felt before. A soft breeze floated into the kitchen and Emma heard the faint whispering on the wind as it surrounded her, lifting the curls around her temples. This was her calling, and she had the power. She could do this.
“Hunter, could you do me a favor?” she asked.
He leaned against the edge of the kitchen counter, crossing his arms. A soft smile played about his lips. “Anything. You’re in charge here.”
“Remember that lilac tree in my secret lunch spot? The one you were beating with that stick?”
He cocked his head to one side and gave her a sheepish grin. “I do.”
“Can you go and grab me a few sprigs of lilac?” The recipe called for lilac petals, not lavender, and what better place to get lilac than the bushes she and Juliette had planted when they were little girls? Emma had always loved those lilac trees. It seemed right that they should be a key ingredient in this ancient recipe. For the first time in her life, Emma was going to listen to her instincts and “go with the flow.” After all that had happened, it was the only thing left she could do.
Hunter brought the lilac petals as Emma mixed up the ingredients. He proved to be a very attentive understudy, placing and pulling trays from the ovens, watching the timers, washing dishes as she started on the next batch. Throughout the night, Emma used the huge mixers to throw together basic cookie dough, adding different ingredients to different batches, based on her instincts. Chocolate chips, cranberries, toasted almonds, crushed toffee bars. Her skills didn’t only translate to cupcakes, and there was freedom in allowing herself to try other recipes. She was filled with a carefree sense of abandon, a sort of reckless joy she had never experienced before. A soft smile kissed the corners of her mouth as she worked. She was having the time of her life.
The “Bliss Day” cupcakes proved to be gorgeous, each one of them a perfect vanilla concoction with the faintest of lilac frosting. Emma knew without a doubt that they were going to work, and she felt a wild rush of happiness at what she had just accomplished. For the first time in her life, she had embraced her gift completely and used her instincts. This was what her grandmother had wanted her to do. This was what she was born to
do.
Somewhere before dawn, Hunter pulled the last tray out of the oven. The sweet scents of chocolate and cinnamon enveloped the entire kitchen. He set the tray on the counter and they stared at each other in companionable silence. The energy flowing back and forth between them permeated the whole room with passion and joy. She scanned the neatly wrapped boxes of cupcakes and freshly baked cookies with deep satisfaction. Without a doubt, these would be the most uplifting charms she had ever created.
They were both exhausted, but the air still crackled with possibilities.
“Do you want some coffee?” Hunter asked, nudging her with his shoulder.
“Mmm.” Emma yawned and stretched her aching muscles. “What time is it?”
“Just past four o’clock. Almost time to wake up and set up the stalls.” They had to set up their tents by seven o’clock to begin prepping for the crowds.
“We are going to be dead on our feet today,” she laughed.
He gathered her up and murmured into her ear. “But we did it.” He kissed her cheek. “You did it.”
“You helped,” she said, swiping flour from his hair. “I would have had a hard time doing this alone.”
“I would have had an impossible time doing this alone. It’s all because of you.” He kissed her again, nuzzling into the sensitive hollow of her neck. Emma’s body flooded with warmth and yearning.
“So about that coffee,” she said.
“Forget coffee.” He lifted her up and carried her to the door. “Come home with me. To bed.”
“We have to start setting up in three hours,” Emma laughed.
He placed tiny kisses along her collarbone. “Not nearly enough time, but I’m game if you are.”
“You’re crazy,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said wickedly. “Are you in?”
She was.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Emma didn’t even care that her clothes were the same things she wore yesterday, hastily laundered in Hunter’s machine when they had arrived at his house several hours earlier. She smoothed her T-shirt over her jeans and blushed at the memory of them stumbling through his front door in a heated rush. They had been so consumed with each other, it was a wonder she had remembered to throw her clothes in the wash at all. But now, with the summer festival in full swing and her hair tied back in a ponytail, she had never felt more beautiful.
She spotted him walking toward Haven on the other side of the wharf. He glanced back and smiled at her, and she could feel his warm gaze all the way to her toes. Hunter’s grand opening had been advertised in Seattle and the surrounding Puget Sound areas, and more tourists were visiting than ever before.
They had set up their vending tents side by side, on one corner of the square. Molly and three of Hunter’s staff were busy selling the cookies and cupcakes they had painstakingly created through the night.
James Sullivan had been checking in with Molly throughout the day, buying cookies for some of his nephews or coffee for himself. From the number of cups he had purchased, and the way he was flirting with her, it was pretty clear he was smitten. Molly seemed pleased by his attention, even though she pretended to ignore him.
Emma smiled secretly to herself. Today was turning out so much better than she expected. No doubt her hasty breakfast of a “Bliss Day” cupcake and coffee had something to do with it. A day of bliss, indeed.
Mrs. Mooney sidled up to the cupcake stand with a triumphant smile. Today she wore a batik caftan with purple eyeshadow and a matching purple flower pinned in her hair. Poor Bonbon was clutched under her arm like a designer bag reject, his claws painted lilac.
“Well, what an amazing success you’ve had today,” Mrs. Mooney burbled. “And my dear, I have even better news.” She turned and waved over a young couple. “This is Tom and Betsy.”
The man carried a little boy on his shoulders and the woman was holding a baby. The adorable baby gave her a gummy grin.
Mrs. Mooney beamed. “They’re looking to adopt a puppy, and I told them about Buddy needing a home!”
Emma’s smile faltered. “Oh.” She stared out across the field where Juliette was taking Buddy on a walk through the festival. He scampered around on his leash, sniffing joyfully at everything he encountered. Emma had grown so fond of having him in her life, she hadn’t realized how much she needed him until she was faced with the prospect of losing him.
The woman named Betsy smiled warmly and shifted her baby to the other hip. “Now that our son will be starting kindergarten, we wanted to add a puppy to the family. Yesterday we met Mrs. Mooney in her shop. She mentioned you had a puppy who needed a home.”
Emma tried to nod, but failed. Instead, she found herself shaking her head. She just couldn’t give him up. That day Juliette had shown up with him at her house seemed like a million years ago. He belonged with her and the house now. They were family. It might not be the typical family with parents and kids, but it was still real. “I’m so sorry, but I’ve decided to keep him. I’ve found I just can’t live without him.”
The woman nodded her understanding. After they said good-bye, Emma turned to Mrs. Mooney. “Thank you for trying. They really seemed like the perfect family. I’m sorry I had to say no.”
“Sorry?” Mrs. Mooney cackled. “I’m thrilled you’re keeping him. I didn’t want to sway your decision but Bonbon would have been so heartbroken to lose his friend.”
In a rush of gratitude, Emma gave Mrs. Mooney a hug. As she squeezed the woman tight, Bonbon licked her cheek.
Emma pulled back and stared wide-eyed at the little dog.
He snarled politely.
Emma blinked. Maybe it wasn’t an actual snarl. She tilted her head and squinted her eyes.
His gums lifted around the edges to reveal snaggled teeth. To Emma, it almost looked like the dog version of a smile.
She reached out and patted his head. “Thanks for the kiss, Bonbon.”
Mrs. Mooney nodded her approval. “That’s my good boy. He’s always had impeccable manners, did you know?”
“Mmm.” Emma gave them free cupcakes and waved as Mrs. Mooney wandered away, her purple caftan billowing behind her.
“Coffee?” murmured a voice behind her. Emma smiled and turned to find Hunter standing there.
“Definitely.” She took the cup he offered, and felt another swell of the giddiness that had permeated her brain all day. They had spent two blissful hours at his place early that morning. Who knew what would happen next? All she knew was she’d finally be able to pay her mortgage, her shop wasn’t going to be torn down, and he wanted to be with her. It wasn’t perfect, she knew that. But what was?
He wrapped an arm around her waist and smiled down at her. Maybe the truth was, there was no such thing as “perfect.” Maybe you just hoped for the best and held on and weathered whatever came next. Maybe the answer was that life would always be uncertain, but it was so much sweeter when shared with someone you love.
And she really loved him. Emma knew it with a certainty that eclipsed every other emotion. Even if he didn’t love her back, she had to be honest with herself. No matter what happened next, she deserved that.
She leaned her head against him and sighed. “I think I’ve met my quota ten times over today. And I’ve got some catering contracts lined up for the rest of the summer. Things are definitely looking up.”
“Yes.” He bent closer and murmured, “When this is over, I say you come home with me so we can celebrate.”
Emma laughed. “Aren’t you exhausted? It’s five o’clock and I’m about to keel over.”
Hunter had spent the day back and forth between their vendor booths and his restaurant. The floor manager had assured him everything was going smoothly, aside from the low variety of baked goods and desserts, but the stellar lunch menu made up for that. All in all, things were going better than he had thought possible.
“Sure I’m tired.” He winked. “But some things are more important than sleep.”
Emma
stared at his mouth. Sleep? Pshaw. Who needed sleep? It was totally overrated. Then she remembered Buddy. “I want to, but I have to go home. Juliette’s been taking care of Buddy, but I need to feed him.” She gestured to the till as Molly handed a tourist a bag of cookies and made change. “I also have to take the money home. But you can come with me. I mean, if you want?”
She felt shy all of a sudden, and worried he might say no. As much as she vowed to embrace whatever came her way, the little girl inside her still wanted assurances that everything was going to be okay. That same little girl wished so much that she could just skip to the end of the story to make sure.
“I want that very much,” he said.
Warmth radiated through her body. Elation. That was the feeling. Emma wanted to kiss him right there, in front of everyone, but she didn’t get the chance, because he kissed her first. Hunter brushed his lips against hers, and everything around them fell away.
Molly giggled.
James clapped.
Gertie and Walter hooted from across the field.
Emma smiled against Hunter’s mouth. “I think we have an audience.”
“Then we better make it good.” He kissed her again, slowly, softly, thoroughly, and she melted against him. For one perfect moment, the pages of her story seemed to flip to the end and Emma glimpsed nothing but happiness.
Looking back, she often wondered if she could have stopped what came next. If only she could have done something different that day. If only she had known.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Later that evening, Hunter parked his car in Emma’s driveway. The day had been successful, but it wasn’t over yet. There were things he needed to say to Emma, and he wasn’t going to wait until tomorrow. He had waited long enough, and he knew now, more than ever, what he truly wanted.
She yawned as they walked toward the house. “I say we feed Buddy, then jump into bed and sleep for the next forty-eight hours.”
He settled an arm around her waist and breathed in the honeysuckle and vanilla scent of her hair as they approached the front porch. “Sounds like a solid plan, but you’re missing a very important step.”
