Book Read Free

Snowflake Sweethearts

Page 5

by Turansky, Carrie


  “You mean like replacing the broken light fixture in the kitchen?”

  “Yes, and a few other things.”

  “Like what?”

  Alex blew out a deep breath and lifted his gaze to meet his grandmother’s. “Like the peeling paint by the front windows, the worn floor and...the Hobart mixer that broke this morning.”

  Irene gasped. “The mixer?”

  Alex nodded, looking grim.

  Annie reached over and covered Irene’s hand. “It’s all right, Irene. Alex has a call in to the repairman. I’m sure they can fix it.”

  “I don’t know.” Irene slowly shook her head. “We bought it refurbished, and it’s already been repaired twice.”

  Alex’s eyebrows dipped lower. “How much did the repairs cost?”

  “The first time it was around twelve hundred. The second time I think it was two thousand.”

  Annie swallowed and looked at Alex. She had no idea it cost that much to repair bakery equipment.

  “Harry and I tried to find out how much money we have on hand.” Alex glanced at the box on the counter. “But we couldn’t quite figure out your system.”

  “I’m afraid it’s not much of a system. I just try to pay the bills when they’re due.” Irene raised a shaky hand to her forehead. “Your grandfather was always better at handling the finances.”

  “It’s okay, Gram. I’ll help you.”

  She looked up. “Really? You’ll go over the finances with me?”

  “Of course. I’m sure if we put our heads together we can sort things out and make a plan.”

  She reached over and squeezed his hand. “Thank you. I’ve been so worried, and I’ve been praying someone would help me out.”

  “Well, you don’t have to worry anymore.” Alex retrieved the box and carried it over to the kitchen table.

  Annie peeked over the edge. More than a dozen file folders and piles of envelopes filled the bottom half of the box. She darted a glance at Alex. Straightening out the bakery finances looked as if it would be a daunting task. “Would you like a cup of tea, Irene?”

  “Thank you, dear. That sounds lovely.”

  Annie filled the teapot and set it on the stove while Alex settled in at the table next to his grandmother. He reached in the box and pulled out a few pieces of unopened mail, then patiently waited while his grandmother tore open the first envelope. She read the invoice aloud. He nodded, his expression neutral, but slight lines fanned out around his eyes and creased his forehead.

  She’d been wrong about him. He carried just as much responsibility as she did, maybe more. Even if it was challenging and time-consuming, he seemed to want to do what was best for his grandmother. She smiled as she watched him, her heart warming. A man with such a caring heart was a rare find...a rare find indeed.

  Chapter Five

  Alex grabbed his gym bag from the trunk and trudged up the steps to the back door. He had hoped the workout would clear his head and ease the stress that had been building over the past week. But his mind still felt like a jumbled mess of conflicting thoughts.

  The bakery finances were a disaster. He and his grandmother had worked on them for two hours yesterday afternoon and three this morning.

  The problem wasn’t just poor sales. His grandmother’s haphazard bookkeeping made it almost impossible to get a good picture of actual income and expenses. But one thing was clear—there wasn’t enough money in the bakery account to pay for the equipment repairs and updates on the building. They barely had enough to cover November salaries for their three employees, let alone take out any money for his grandmother’s needs.

  As much as he hated to be the one to drop the bomb, he had to level with her. It was time to close Jameson’s.

  He walked inside and glanced around the empty kitchen. Where was Annie? He was used to seeing her working at the counter or stove, cooking something delicious. That thought made him smile.

  Since he had apologized for his reaction to yesterday’s burnt breakfast, things had seemed better between them. It was almost as if they had moved back into their comfortable friendship, yet there was something different about it. He supposed that was to be expected after ten years apart. For some reason that bothered him.

  The sound of voices in the living room drew him down the hallway. “Hey, Gram, I’m home,” he called.

  “I’m in here, hon.”

  He found her watching TV from her recliner with her feet up and a cozy afghan covering her legs. He glanced around but didn’t see Annie. He kissed his grandmother’s forehead. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

  “I am. I’m watching my cooking show.” Her cheery expression lifted his sagging spirits. Surely she’d understand and accept the changes that were coming. She might even be glad to have the burden of running the bakery lifted off her shoulders.

  “What are they making today?”

  She sent him a mischievous grin. “Pumpkin cheesecake.”

  He cocked his head. “Well, don’t get any ideas. Cheesecake is definitely not on your healthy food list.”

  “I know, but I can still enjoy watching them make it.”

  “Doesn’t that feel a little like torturing yourself?”

  She waved the idea away. “Not at all. Now, go on, put your things away and let me finish my show.”

  He chuckled and headed up the stairs. A bumping sound overhead made him stop and look up. Then he heard a long swishing noise that sounded like someone sliding a box across the attic floor.

  When he reached the upstairs hall, he saw that the folding ladder to the attic had been pulled down. He looked up into the dark opening. “Annie, are you up there?”

  “Yeah, I’m looking for a box of Thanksgiving decorations. Irene said they’re here, but I can’t seem to find them.”

  He grinned and shook his head. His grandmother hated to throw anything away. “I’ll come up and give you a hand.”

  “Thanks. You might want to bring a flashlight.”

  “Okay.” He dropped his gym bag by his bedroom door, hustled down to the kitchen and took a flashlight from the cabinet under the sink. Then he returned to the second floor and climbed the squeaky folding ladder to the attic.

  Cool air fanned across his face, and a dry, dusty scent tickled his nose. He clicked on his flashlight and scanned the dark recesses under the eaves. Several green plastic totes and a long line of old luggage filled the area on the right. On the left, Annie knelt next to a jumbled stack of cardboard boxes. “Wow, I haven’t been up here in ages.”

  “Watch your head.” Annie lightly touched her forehead. “I’m speaking from experience.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s just a little bump.” She sent him a half smile, then turned back to the boxes. “Irene has all kinds of stuff up here.”

  “Yes, she’s quite a saver.” He squatted next to Annie and noted the subtle scent of vanilla floating in the air around her. He leaned closer and pulled in a shallow breath. She smelled just like a sugar cookie with buttercream frosting.

  Annie turned. Her gaze connected with his, and her eyes widened. Only a few inches separated them.

  Awareness rippled through him, and his heartbeat kicked up a notch. She not only smelled great, she looked very pretty up close.

  Her lips parted as though she was going to speak, then she looked down and broke eye contact. “I found a lot of Christmas decorations,” she said, her voice slightly higher than usual. “I grouped them over there.” She pointed her flashlight beam toward the green totes by the opening in the attic floor.

  He watched her carefully in the pale light. Had she sensed the connection, too? Was that what he’d seen in her eyes?

  “I’ve been labeling the boxes as I go,” she continued, but her voice sounded normal now. Whatever
she’d thought or felt had passed. He was probably just imagining things because of his own reaction.

  He pulled in a deep breath and shook off those thoughts. “Labeling the boxes and totes is a good idea. That’ll help next time she sends us up here for something.”

  But then it hit him. He wouldn’t be around the next time his grandmother needed something from the attic. Who would help her bring down the Christmas decorations? Would Annie and Emma still be here at Christmas? Where would he celebrate the holiday?

  He pushed those questions away and read what Annie had written on the boxes. Pots and Pans. Christmas Ornaments. Vacation Keepsakes. Easter/Spring Decorations. Fishing Gear.

  Annie tapped one of the boxes closest to him. “Looks like you stored a few things up here, too.”

  He gave an embarrassed chuckle. “I forgot about that.”

  “This one has basketball trophies and your high-school yearbooks. And that one has your snowboard boots and gloves.”

  “Wow, you found my boots?” He hadn’t been snowboarding for seven or eight years, but he couldn’t resist the idea of taking a look. He crawled over and opened the box. The boots lay on top of a pile of old shirts and jeans.

  He took them out, wishing he could get some time on the slopes this winter, but that wasn’t likely once he returned to San Francisco. Setting the boots aside, he grabbed an old shirt and held it up. “Wow, this is ancient.” He tossed it back in the box, closed the flaps and shoved the container toward the opening in the attic floor. “I might as well toss this stuff. I’ll never wear it.”

  “Wait. There are other things in there besides clothes.”

  “Like what?”

  “The photo album you made during your senior year for Mrs. Beyer’s class...and your Bible and journals.”

  He stared at her for a second. “They’re in this box?”

  She nodded. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to snoop.”

  “No, it’s okay.” But heat radiated into his neck and face.

  “I saw the clothes, and I was going to ask you if we could donate them to charity, but then I looked a little deeper and saw the album and Bible.” She waited until he looked her way again. “You should save those, Alex. They’re special.”

  Suddenly the attic felt too small, and he scooted away. “Right. Thanks. I’ll take a look later.”

  Why did he feel so awkward about her discovering he’d left his Bible behind when he went to college? The truth was, he’d not only left his Bible behind, he’d walked away from the faith his parents and grandparents had taught him when he was a boy. He pushed those convicting thoughts away and cleared his throat. “So, no Thanksgiving decorations?”

  “Not yet. But I have a few more boxes to check.” She crawled over and opened the next one.

  Alex followed her. “What’s in there?”

  “Looks like camping gear.”

  He clenched his teeth, and a shudder passed through him. Painful memories came rushing back, but he pushed them away. The last thing he wanted to see or think about was anything to do with camping.

  She scooted over and opened the next box. “This is it!” She sent him a triumphant smile and pushed it toward the opening.

  “You go first,” he said. “I’ll take the box.”

  She climbed down, then he tugged the box of decorations over the edge and descended the ladder. When he reached the hallway, he brushed the dust off his hands then closed the attic door, leaving the box with his Bible and journals in the dark.

  “Oh, I forgot to mention, I found a few boxes of business records and tax returns for the bakery. Do you think you’ll need those?”

  “Maybe. I’m not sure.” His thoughts returned to his grandmother’s failing business, and his spirits deflated.

  “What is it, Alex? What’s wrong?”

  He looked up and met her gaze. “I need your help, Annie.”

  “What kind of help?”

  “We’ve got to convince Gram it’s time to close the bakery.”

  Her dark eyes flashed. “Alex, you can’t do that. It’ll break her heart.”

  “I don’t think we have a choice.”

  “But you know how much it means to her. That’s her history, something she and John built together. If you take that away, I’m afraid she’ll just give up.”

  He clenched his jaw.

  “You’ve got to find some way to keep it open.”

  “Come on, Annie, we have got to face reality. The shop is not making enough to cover expenses. Gram’s been using her savings to keep it afloat. She can’t keep doing that.”

  She sagged back against the wall. “I didn’t realize things were that bad.”

  “Well, they are.” His voice came out gruffer than he intended.

  She sent him a wounded look.

  “Maybe I can find a buyer—” he backpedaled “—someone who can invest in the business and update the shop. That would be the best outcome for Gram.”

  “How would you do that?”

  He blew out a deep breath, already doubting the possibility. “I’ll talk to other business owners, see what I can learn, but I can’t promise anything.”

  “How much do you think it would cost to update the shop?”

  “We’re likely talking several thousand dollars.”

  “Maybe you could get a business loan from the bank.”

  “Even if we could, Gram has to retire. She can’t keep managing Jameson’s.”

  “Well...what if you hired someone else to manage it?”

  “How would that help Gram? Paying a new manager would swallow up more income. Besides, who’d want to take over a run-down bakery that’s not making a profit?”

  She raised her chin and looked him in the eye. “I would.”

  He blinked. “Are you serious?”

  “I hate the idea of closing the bakery, and I have culinary training. Maybe I could make it work.”

  “Look, I appreciate you wanting to help, but I don’t know if Jameson’s is worth saving. People want healthy, trendy food now, not deep-fried desserts that are going to clog their arteries and give them a heart attack.”

  She straightened, looking offended. “Desserts are not evil. And having a doughnut or cupcake once in a while is not going to give someone a heart attack.”

  “Tell my grandmother that.”

  “Alex, come on, be reasonable.”

  He lifted his hands. “I’m being perfectly reasonable. The bakery’s books are in the red. Gram can’t run the shop anymore. It’s time to admit defeat and let it go.”

  “Why are you so set on closing? Can’t you think outside the box just a little?”

  Heat flashed into his face. “Hey, I’m trained to think outside the box. That’s what I do every day. But I’m also a realist.”

  She huffed and rolled her eyes.

  “Look, I’m leaving in twelve days. I don’t see how I could find someone to buy the business in that short a time, so I don’t think we have a choice.”

  The disappointment in her eyes hit him like a punch in the gut.

  “I have to do what’s best for my grandmother, and closing Jameson’s is the only option that makes sense.”

  “You really think that’s what’s best for your grandmother?” Annie shook her head. “The real problem is you’re in such a rush to get back to San Francisco, you won’t even consider a plan to save the bakery!” She lifted her chin, and her nostrils flared. “I thought you were different—that you actually had a heart in there.” She poked him in the chest. “Obviously I was wrong.” She spun away, ran down the stairs and slammed her bedroom door.

  Alex stared after her, his pulse pounding out a wild beat. Now he’d done it. Couldn’t she understand this was a no-win situation? But as her piercing words repl
ayed through his mind, doubts rose. Was she right? Was he more concerned about getting back to work than saving his grandmother’s business? And if that was true, what did it say about him? And even more important—what was he going to do about it?

  Chapter Six

  Annie paced across her room. At any second Alex was going to march through the door and confront her for her outburst.

  Oh, why hadn’t she just held her tongue instead of blurting out her frustration? It wasn’t her job to save the bakery. And even if it was her responsibility, she would never convince Alex to change his mind by insulting him.

  Her stomach roiled and twisted.

  What if he fired her? Where would they go? She didn’t have enough money to rent her own apartment. She’d used her last paycheck to cover their medical bills and car insurance.

  They couldn’t go back to Lilly’s. They’d worn out their welcome there after staying with her for almost a month. And staying with Courtney in her one-bedroom apartment wasn’t a good situation. Sharing a hide-a-bed in the living room meant neither she nor Emma got a good night’s sleep.

  She sank onto the edge of the bed and closed her eyes. Lord, You know I need this job. We can’t move again. Not so soon. I know I shouldn’t have said all those things to Alex, but he is so shortsighted and pigheaded and just about the most irritating man I have ever—

  A knock at her door cut into her prayer, and her eyes flew open.

  She swallowed, rose from the bed and walked to the door on unsteady legs. She’d apologize and say she was wrong. She had to hold on to this job. With clammy fingers, she clutched the doorknob and slowly pulled it open.

  Irene smiled at her. “I just wanted to thank you for finding those Thanksgiving decorations. I’m sorry you had to crawl around the attic. I really need to get organized and throw some things away, but...” Concern filled her eyes. “Why, Annie, you’re white as a sheet. Are you ill?”

  Annie lifted a trembling hand and tucked her hair behind her ear. “No, I’m fine.”

  Irene searched her face, and her eyes widened. “What happened to your forehead?”

 

‹ Prev