Snowflake Sweethearts

by Turansky, Carrie

  “Keep your receipts, and I’ll refund you.”

  She nodded. “I picked up a few basics for breakfast and lunch. But we can sit down tonight or tomorrow and plan the week’s menu.”

  Gram stepped forward and pulled her in for a tight hug. “Thank you, Annie. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Annie closed her eyes, looking as though she enjoyed the hug as much as his grandmother. “Me, too.” She glanced down at Emma. “We’re both glad, aren’t we, Em?”

  Emma nodded, and her dark curls bounced. “I like your house.”

  Gram chuckled. “Well, thank you.” She looked around. “I like it, too, especially after spending five days in the hospital.”

  Alex slipped his arm around Gram’s shoulder. “We’re all happy you’re home.”

  Annie blinked a couple times and sent them a tremulous smile. “I need a few more minutes to finish cooking dinner.”

  “Take your time, dear. I think I’d like to just sit down for a bit and look through the mail.”

  Alex took his grandmother’s arm and led her to her favorite recliner. “Why don’t you just relax and put your feet up until dinner?”

  She settled into her chair. “Would you bring me the mail?”

  “Sure.” He retrieved the stack from the desk in the dining room, and as he passed the table, he noticed Annie had set only two places for dinner.

  He brought Gram the mail, then headed for the kitchen. Emma sat at the table, coloring with a bright purple marker. At least a dozen drawings lay scattered across the big pine table.

  Annie stood at the counter chopping chunks of fresh pineapple. She looked up as he crossed the kitchen.

  “How come you only set two places at the table?”

  She looked down and kept chopping. “Emma and I can eat in here.”

  “But I thought you would eat with us. I mean, you’re welcome to eat with us...unless you’d rather eat out here. But that doesn’t really make sense.” He wasn’t sure why he was stumbling over his words.

  “It’s okay, Alex.” Her dark-eyed gaze flashed toward him and then darted away. “I’m the employee now. It’s different than before. I understand.”

  His heart clenched. “Annie, look at me.”

  She slowly turned. The vulnerability in her eyes cut through him.

  “I might be paying you to cook and take care of Gram, but we were friends first. That hasn’t changed.”

  “You don’t have to do this, Alex.”

  “Do what?”

  “Be so nice.”

  “Inviting you to sit down and have dinner with us—a

  dinner that you cooked—that’s your definition of nice?”

  Her lips curved into a small smile. “I guess so.”

  He crossed to the cabinet and took out two more plates. “Then you are about to be treated to a very nice dinner.”

  Her smile spread wider. “Thank you, Alex.”

  His chest expanded as he took two more sets of silverware from the drawer. Annie Romano deserved a place at the table, and he was going to make sure she got it. He didn’t want her to feel as if she was just an employee.

  She was much more than that. She always had been.

  Chapter Four

  Annie stirred the chopped apples into the bubbling oats and lowered the heat. Just five more minutes and breakfast would be ready.

  The coffee was brewing. The table was set. Alex and Irene were both up and getting ready for the day.

  Where was Emma? She’d sent her off to put on her shoes at least ten minutes ago, but she hadn’t returned.

  If this were her own house, she’d call out and give her daughter a five-minute warning, but she didn’t have that freedom here. Instead, she set aside the wooden spoon and walked down the hall in search of her daughter.

  Emma’s door stood open. Annie looked in and found her sitting on the floor with pieces of a large puzzle spread out around her on the rug.

  “Emma, what are you doing? I sent you in here to get your shoes, remember?”

  Her daughter looked up. “I couldn’t find ’um.”

  “Well...where did you leave them?”

  She blinked her big brown eyes and shrugged. “I don’t know.” Her daughter had a terrible time keeping track of things, and moving from place to place made it difficult to reinforce the helpful routines she needed—like putting away her shoes.

  “Where were you when you took them off?”

  Emma glanced around. “I don’t ’member.”

  Whispering a prayer for patience, Annie held out her hand to Emma. “Okay. Let’s go on a shoe hunt.”

  Her daughter slowly rose and took her hand. They spent the next few minutes searching Emma’s room, but the shoes were not there. Then they checked the bathroom. No shoes.

  “Did you take them off in here?” Annie pushed open her bedroom door.

  “Maybe.” Emma chewed on her thumbnail as she walked around. Suddenly she gasped and dropped to her knees. Lifting the bed skirt, she peeked underneath. “Here they are!”

  “Good job.” Annie gave her a pat on the back. “Hop up on the bed, and I’ll give you a hand.”

  Emma climbed up and sat on the edge. Annie knelt and slipped on the shoes. “I want you to keep these shoes on your feet or in your room. No more taking them off and just leaving them lying—”

  “Annie!” Alex called as he hustled past her door. “Something is burning!”

  Annie gasped. “The oatmeal!” She ran down the hall after him. How could she have forgotten she’d left it simmering on the stove? What was the matter with her?

  Alex reached the kitchen first. A hazy gray cloud hung in the air, carrying the scent of scorched oats. He grabbed the smoking pot, jerked open the back door and strode outside.

  “Was that breakfast?” Emma asked in a small voice.

  “Yes,” Annie said with a shudder. She snatched a kitchen towel and waved it through the air, trying to move the smoke outside.

  Irene walked into the kitchen. “What’s burning?”

  Annie’s face flamed. “The oats.” She turned to Irene. “I’m sorry. I went to get Emma, and she couldn’t find her shoes. We had to look all over the house.” She opened the window above the sink. Cool air rushed in. “I can’t believe I did that. I know better than to walk away and leave something cooking on the stove.”

  “I should hope so.” Alex shoved the back door closed with a bang. “Seems like that would be the first lesson in Cooking 101.”

  “Alex.” Irene sent him a stern glance. “Annie apologized. There’s no need to scold her. It was an accident.”

  “An accident that could’ve been avoided if she wasn’t distracted by...” His gaze dipped to Emma.

  Annie’s stomach clenched, and she laid a protective hand on Emma’s shoulder. Her daughter looked up at her with a hint of fear in her large brown eyes.

  Annie shot Alex a heated glance, then looked down at her daughter. “It’s all right, Emma.”

  Irene nodded to Alex, as though prompting him to apologize.

  His expression eased a bit. “I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting our breakfast to go up in smoke.”

  Annie clamped her mouth closed, turned away and took a pot from the cabinet. “I’ll start another batch.” She’d have to use the old-fashioned rolled oats rather than the steel cut.

  “Don’t make any for me,” Alex said, his voice still carrying a measure of irritation. “I need to get going. I’m covering for Harry at the bakery this morning.”

  “Why did he need the morning off?” Irene asked.

  “I don’t know, Gram. He didn’t say.”

  “Maybe I should give him a call.” Irene walked toward the phone.

  Alex laid his hand on her sho
ulder. “Please, Gram, you don’t need to call. I’ll take care of things at the bakery. You just focus on getting better.”

  “But it’s been a long time since you worked there. Are you sure you know how to handle things?”

  “I’m just manning the counter. I’m sure it’ll all come back to me.”

  “All right, but promise you’ll call me if you have any questions.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll call.”

  Annie poured the oats into the pan. “Are you sure you don’t have time for breakfast? These only take five minutes.”

  “No. I’ll just grab something at the bakery.” He sent her one more serious look, then turned and walked out of the kitchen.

  Irene watched him go, then shook her head. “I have a feeling he’s not telling me something.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “It’s not like him to get so upset about a scorched pan of oatmeal.”

  Annie walked to the sink and filled a measuring cup with water. Was Irene right? Was something else besides the burnt breakfast bothering Alex?

  Looking out the window, she watched him climb into his grandmother’s car and back out of the driveway.

  She didn’t like to disappoint Alex—especially since she’d just started working for him. But it was more than just not wanting to let down her employer.

  Alex was much more than that. He always had been.

  * * *

  Alex slammed the car door and glared at himself in the rearview mirror. What was wrong with him? Why had he flown off the handle at Annie like that? It was just a stupid pot of oatmeal, not a major disaster. He jerked the car in Reverse and backed out of the driveway, tires squealing as he drove away.

  She probably thought he was a real grouch—and she was right.

  But burnt breakfast wasn’t the real reason for his rotten mood. The phone calls he’d received earlier that morning were the real trigger that set off his stormy reaction.

  First Harry had called to report more problems at the bakery. And less than five minutes later, Tiffany phoned with the news that someone had leaked the possible merger to the press. Now everyone at Tremont was texting and exchanging panicked emails. Tiffany predicted heads would roll, and not just the head of the person who had leaked the story.

  Acidic coffee sloshed in his empty stomach and burned his throat. The troubles at work and at the bakery were enough to give him a permanent stomachache, but the memories of Annie’s reaction to his harsh words made him feel even worse. He’d seen that look of betrayal in her eyes. She deserved better from him.

  He pulled to a stop at the corner, wrestling to get that image out of his mind. But the weight of conviction felt like a heavy hand pressing down on his shoulders.

  “All right. I’ll apologize to Annie as soon as I get back to Gram’s.”

  He wasn’t sure who he was talking to, but with that decision made, the weight seemed to lift a bit, and he could focus on the issues at work.

  He didn’t have the power to change the situation at Tremont. But he could shoot off an email to a few of his friends at work to try to put out some fires. What would he say? If the company was sold, they might all lose their jobs, and in this economy finding a new one wouldn’t be easy. But maybe they were all worried for nothing. Only time would tell.

  He rounded the corner at Eleventh and Harris, spotted an open parking p1ace and pulled in.

  Walking toward the bakery, he looked at the other buildings. Their neat brick-and-wood exteriors were a stark contrast to the bakery’s faded and outdated appearance. Jameson’s really needed a face-lift—or at least a paint job to spruce it up.

  But could Gram afford that?

  It was time to find out.

  * * *

  Annie scrubbed the oatmeal pan with steel wool, trying to remove the last burnt marks. She’d let it soak for several hours, hoping that would make the job easier, but it hadn’t done much good.

  Lifting her arm, she brushed a stray curl off her damp forehead. Only three days into this new arrangement with Alex, and she already doubted she’d made the right decision.

  Everything had started off okay. Alex seemed to appreciate having her here, but the first time she’d made a mistake, he’d shown his true colors. Irritation rose, and her face flamed. Hadn’t he ever burned something on the stove? Didn’t he ever get distracted and forget things?

  She huffed. Probably not. He was always on schedule, setting a constant alarm to keep him that way.

  Well, he didn’t have a five-year-old daughter or half the responsibilities she carried every day.

  Thank goodness he wasn’t staying here permanently. The sooner she could convince him she had things under control, the sooner he’d return to San Francisco. And today was not soon enough for her.

  A car pulled in the driveway. Alex climbed out and shut the door.

  Her stomach tensed. Irene was resting, and she had at least another hour before she had to pick up Emma from school. She quickly rinsed the pot and set it in the dish drainer to dry. Hopefully Alex had calmed down and wouldn’t mention the burnt breakfast.

  He walked in the back door carrying a large cardboard box. His steps slowed when he spotted her at the sink. “Hi, Annie.”

  “Hello.” She turned away and wiped the counter.

  “Where’s Gram?”

  “She’s taking a nap.” She tossed the paper towel in the trash can and turned to face him.

  He set the box on the counter. A slight frown creased his forehead. “Listen...I was thinking about what happened this morning, and I realize I overreacted.” He slipped his hands in his pants pockets. “I’m sorry.”

  She stared at him for a second before she could put a sentence together. “You don’t have to apologize to me.”

  “Yes, I do. I shouldn’t be taking my frustration out on you.”

  “Well, I can see how starting the day with a burnt breakfast would be frustrating.”

  “That was a surprise, but I got a phone call before that, which is what really set me off. But that’s not your fault.”

  Annie’s heart warmed and softened. “Who called?”

  He glanced toward the hallway. “I don’t want Gram to hear this.”

  “I just checked on her a few minutes ago. She’s sound asleep.” Annie motioned toward the table. “Do you want to have some coffee?”

  “Sure.” He pulled out a chair and sat down.

  “So someone called?” She took a mug from the cabinet.

  “Yeah, Harry said the big Hobart mixer came to a grinding halt this morning.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “That’s what I said.” They used that mixer for everything from bread dough to cake batter.

  She poured him a cup of coffee and took out a tin of gingersnaps from the pantry. No wonder he was upset. Sympathy flowed through her as she carried the coffee to the table and sat down across from him.

  “I just spent the last few hours looking over the finances at the bakery.” He nodded toward the container on the counter by the back door. “I brought home a big stack of bills and files.”

  “How do things look?”

  “Harry and I tried to make sense of it, but I’m going to need Gram’s help to figure out her system.”

  “I hope that won’t upset her.”

  “We don’t really have a choice. I have to get a clear picture of the income and expenses so we can make a decision about the future of the bakery.” He set his coffee cup on the table. “But I’ll be honest. It doesn’t look good. Without that mixer, we can’t keep up with our regular output, which means less income.”

  “Can you get the mixer repaired?”

  “Maybe. I’ve got a call in to a company that sends out repairmen, but I’m not sure if Gram can afford that.�
��

  “Oh, Alex, is it really that bad?”

  “I don’t know...but Harry says Gram has been cutting her employees’ hours. It also looks like she’s been putting off paying some of the bills.”

  Annie sat back in her chair. Irene had said business was slow, but she had no idea things were this bad.

  Irene strolled into the kitchen wearing brown plush pants, a matching pullover and fuzzy pink slippers. “Hey, you two, why the long faces?”

  Annie’s gaze darted to Alex.

  Understanding flashed in his eyes, and he gave her a slight nod. “We were just talking, Gram.”

  Irene smiled, her brown eyes glowing. “Talking is good. Very good.” She joined them at the table.

  Annie’s cheeks burned. She looked down and stirred her coffee. This was not the first time Irene had hinted at matchmaking hopes for her and Alex.

  Alex smiled at his grandmother and seemed unaware of her hints. “Did you have a good nap?”

  Gram nodded. “I can’t believe I slept for almost two hours.” She shook her head. “I’m getting awfully lazy.”

  “Well, you deserve to take it easy, Gram. You’ve worked hard all your life. Now it’s time to get into a new routine and take good care of yourself.”

  “That’s right,” Annie said. “Resting each day is important for your recovery. It needs to be a priority.”

  Alex gave a decisive nod. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  Irene cocked her head and looked back and forth between them. “All right, you two. What’s going on?”

  Alex’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

  “You forget, Alex Jameson, I raised you. I can sense when you’re not telling me something.” Irene drilled them with her steady gaze. “Come on. Out with it.”

  “It’s nothing for you to worry about, Gram.”

  “Well, I’m going to worry unless you tell me.”

  Alex got up from the table and poured himself a second cup of coffee. “Okay, but you have to promise you won’t let it upset you.”

  “I promise.”

  Alex sat at the table again. “I spent some time at the bakery today. Harry and I made a list of the repairs that need to be made.”