The Sweetest Thing

by Barbara Freethy

  He shut the door before she could reply, because he didn't really want to know her answer.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ben strode into Faith's Fancies just after noon on Monday. He'd tried phoning Faith several times on Sunday, but her machine had answered him every time. He'd told himself she was probably sleeping, but when she hadn't returned his calls this morning, he'd begun to worry. He'd even driven by her apartment, but she wasn't home. That meant she was at least well enough to go to work and well enough to speak to him.

  Nancy greeted him with her usual loving smile. "In the back, honey. She's baking up a storm. We're really busy today."

  Ben could see that. The bakery was packed, and there were two other clerks waiting on customers. He slipped around the counter and headed into the kitchen. He found Faith up to her elbows in dough. Her apron was soiled. Her hair spilled out of her hairnet, and her face was flushed from the heat of the ovens.

  She started when she saw him. "Ben. What are you doing here?"

  "I was worried about you. Didn't you get my messages?"

  Yes, she'd gotten all five of them. But by the time she'd left the Carrigans, it had been after ten, and she hadn't wanted to call or explain where she'd been all day.

  "I figured you let the machine pick up your calls so you could rest."

  Faith didn't want to contradict him, so she concentrated on the pastry dough between her fingers. "I'm really busy today, Ben. Leslie had to leave early, so I'm the sole baker. Was there something you wanted?"

  "Yes, as a matter of fact."

  His exasperated tone drew her gaze to his face. "What?"

  "The wedding, Faith. An answer, if you don't mind."

  "You promised not to push."

  "I don't think I am pushing."

  "Ben, you asked me to marry you completely out of the blue four days ago. Don't you think I could at least have a week to think about it?"

  Ben began to pace around the kitchen, looking like a caged tiger. She'd never seen him so worked up. Usually he was the picture of calm. "Okay, what's really wrong?" she asked.

  He stopped his pacing and stared at her. "I'm afraid the longer you wait, the more chance there is that you'll say no. And you can't say no, Faith. I want to persuade you. I want to wine you and dine you and show you how good it can be between us. But you were sick yesterday, and today you're busy, and who knows what tomorrow will bring. I feel like you're avoiding me."

  She looked away, knowing that his words held more than a little truth. But she hadn't figured out her feelings yet. And she didn't want to push him away when a part of her still longed for everything he had promised -- kids, a family, a home. "I'm just busy, Ben. Can we do this later?"

  "How about tonight?"

  Actually, tonight she'd promised Julian she would continue her search for Harry Conrad. In fact, Alex had promised her access to his computer again anytime after five. "I can't. How about tomorrow night? We can have dinner at the Clam House. Say seven o'clock?"

  Ben frowned at being put off for yet another day, but eventually nodded. "All right. I guess if that's the best you can do. Just promise me you'll really think about us, while you're punching and pummeling that dough. Actually, maybe that's not such a good idea if you start thinking I look like that piece of dough."

  Faith laughed. This was the teasing friend she remembered. Ben smiled back at her. "By the way, my father gave me the watch."

  Faith knew exactly what watch he was talking about. Gary had often talked about his great-grandfather's watch and how he would one day inherit it. Poor Gary.

  "At least you'll have it, too, when we get married," Ben said. "So in a way Gary will share in it. Because he brought you into the family." He shifted his feet somewhat awkwardly. "I never expected to get it. It was always meant for Gary, the first son."

  "You deserve it, Ben. Just because Gary was born first didn't make him any more a Porter than you."

  "He always seemed so much more a Porter than me. My father gave it to me because of you, Faith."

  "Don't be silly."

  "It's true. He wants me to pass it down to our son. I'm the only one who can ensure the name goes on, the last Porter." He laughed, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. Instead he looked worried. "I never thought it would feel like such a responsibility."

  "I'm sure you're up to the task. Even if you and I didn't--"

  "Don't say it."

  "You would find someone else. You're a great guy."

  "I want you, Faith. It has to be you." He walked over and kissed her, taking advantage of her trapped hands to linger over her mouth.

  It was a nice kiss, and she tried to give him back what he wanted, but she couldn't help comparing the kiss to the one she'd shared with Alex. It came up sadly wanting.

  There wasn't any chemistry between them. Friendship, yes. Caring, yes. But passion, no -- at least not yet.

  Ben seemed somewhat desperate to ring her bells, and looked disappointed at the end of the kiss. She felt much the same way, wanting to feel something with him, her best friend, the nicest guy in the world, the right man to marry.

  "I'll see you tomorrow night, Faith. We'll talk."

  "Tomorrow," she promised cheerfully. But when he left the kitchen, she let out a small sigh. Why, oh why, couldn't she be attracted to him? And could she really contemplate a marriage without that essential ingredient?

  "Faith, I need you out here," Nancy called from the doorway, looking perturbed about something.

  Faith wiped off her hands and went out front. Her clerk, Pam, had her hand around the wrist of a scruffy-looking girl wearing jeans with big holes at the knees and an incredibly small midriff sweater that clung to her flat chest. Faith smiled at the defiant look in her rebellious brown eyes. "Hello, Jessie."

  "I told you I knew her," Jessie said to Pam. "And I didn't do anything."

  "She stole three madeleines when I was helping another customer," Pam said. "See, the crumbs are still on her mouth."

  Jessie quickly wiped her mouth with her free hand, looking as guilty as sin.

  "I saw her, too," Nancy said. "I told you that family was nothing but trouble."

  Faith took one look at the long line of customers and knew they had to end the scene now before she lost any more business. "Jessie, come with me."

  "I think she'll just run if I let her go," Pam said. "Don't you think you should at least call her parents?"

  Faith sent Jessie a stern look. "Even if you run, you know I'll find you. I know where you live."

  "You do?" Nancy asked in surprise. "How do you know that?"

  "Uh -- can we talk about this later? We have customers waiting."

  Nancy frowned but obediently tended to the next customer in line. Faith knew she would face lots of questions later.

  "Jessie." Faith motioned for Jessie to come around the counter and into the kitchen. "Why did you do it?" she asked when they were alone.

  "I was hungry," Jessie said, directing her gaze toward the floor. "Alex went to work and didn't leave me any food. I don't know where Julian is."

  "We had half a pizza left over from last night, Jess. You could have had that."

  Jessie shrugged. She walked over to the ovens and peered inside. "These are huge. What are you making?"

  "Framboisine -- otherwise known as raspberry almond tart." Faith walked over to the oven and pushed on the light switch to check the tart. "When the pastry and macaroons on top turn gold, it will be ready. Then I'll dust the top with toasted almonds and sugar."

  "It smells so good." Jessie inhaled a deep breath and let it out with a sigh of satisfaction.

  Faith laughed. "After you've been in here awhile, you'll barely notice the smell."

  "Is the same thing in the other oven?"

  "No, that's noisette."

  "How come everything sounds so weird?"

  "Noisette is a French word. I'm what's known as a French pastry chef; I make desserts and pastries that are French specialties. Of course, I also
make American desserts as well."

  "So what is a noisette? It doesn't sound very good."

  "Oh, but it is. It's a meringue layer cake with hazelnut buttercream."

  "Ooh, yum." Jessie offered Faith a rare smile. "Do you think I could taste it?"

  "It won't be ready for a few minutes. Say, aren't you supposed to be at school?''

  "Alex called around. They said it was spring break."

  Well, at least he'd done that much. Although he had a thing or two to learn about keeping a twelve-year-old girl out of trouble while he was at work.

  Jessie opened the refrigerator and her eyes widened at the sight of every sugary ingredient known to man. "This is so cool. I would love to work in a bakery."

  Faith couldn't help a smile at Jessie's wide-eyed wonder. She remembered the first time she'd seen the kitchen in a bakery. She'd known right away that this was exactly what she wanted to do.

  "Can I help you make something?" Jessie asked.

  Faith hesitated. She'd gone home the night before determined not to get any further involved with the Carrigans, and here she was again, about to get even closer. But if she didn't let Jessie help, she'd probably wander the streets, and that wouldn't be good for her.

  "All right, you can help. But we work here, Jess. No fooling around. I give the orders, and you follow them."

  "Does that mean I have to wash dishes?"

  Faith laughed. "Eventually, after we've done some baking. With Easter coming up, I have dozens of orders to get ready for the weekend, so an extra pair of hands would be great."

  "I don't actually know how to cook."

  "Then I'll teach you."

  "Really?"

  "Yes. First thing you do is wash your hands and put on a hairnet."

  "I have to wear a hairnet?"

  "Health regulations."

  Faith finished the dough she was working on while Jessie washed her hands and slipped on a hairnet. Then she handed the girl an apron and helped her tie it on. A few minutes later they were mixing flour and salt and rolling out dough.

  Jessie was all thumbs in the beginning, uncertain about every new move. She knocked herself in the head with a rolling pin and sifted flour all over her jeans. Faith heard more swear words in twenty minutes than she'd heard in the last five years, but she let Jessie work out the kinks without commenting.

  Nancy came into the kitchen several times during the next few hours, trying to catch a quiet word with Faith, but aside from stating that Jessie was working off her theft, Faith didn't explain that she felt sorry for the girl and closer to Jessie than Nancy could ever imagine. It wasn't that long ago that Faith had been twelve and all alone.

  Finally, at three o'clock, Nancy went home in a huff, after one last pointed comment about getting too involved with those Carrigans.

  "How come she doesn't like us?" Jessie asked.

  "She thinks Julian is a con man."

  "If he's a con man, he's not very good. He doesn't have any money, you know. And his clothes..." Jessie wrinkled her nose in disgust.

  Faith smiled. "Nancy is very protective of the people she cares about. That's all."

  "Can we make éclairs now?" Jessie asked, showing an enthusiasm for baking that had taken Faith by surprise. She'd figured Jessie would be bored after an hour, but it had quickly become clear that Jessie was lonely and longed for something to do, someone to talk to, someone to care.

  "No, we're going to make a snowflake next -- meringue layer cake with white chocolate mousse. We'll start with the mousse. Can you get the heavy cream out of the refrigerator? It should be on the second shelf."

  Jessie walked over to the refrigerator and stared at the contents, finally locating the cream. She took it out and set it down on the table. "What else?"

  "White chocolate. I'll get that. It's too high for you to reach."

  "Can I have a soda, Faith? I saw some in the fridge."

  "Sure, help yourself."

  While Faith got out the white chocolate, Jessie retrieved two Diet Cokes from the refrigerator and handed one to Faith.

  "Thanks, honey."

  Jessie blushed at the endearment, as if she wasn't used to hearing kind words. But then, from the little Faith knew about Jessie's background, perhaps kindness was a rarity in Jessie's world.

  Jessie took a sip of her Coke. "Did your mom teach you how to cook?"

  "I didn't have a mom, Jess." Faith took a drink, letting the cool liquid soothe away the hurt that always accompanied those words. How many times had she said them in her life -- to how many teachers, how many neighbors, how many curious kids? She couldn't remember. It shouldn't still hurt, not after all these years, but somehow it did. And Jessie knew. Faith could see the understanding in her eyes, and a bond was born between them.

  "What happened to your mom? Did she die?"

  Faith leaned against the counter. "I don't know. She gave me up when I was a baby. I never knew who she was or why she left me. The only thing I have of hers is my St. Christopher's medal." Faith pulled her necklace out from under her apron to show Jessie. "I've worn it since I was a kid."

  "Weren't you mad at her for leaving you?"

  "Of course I was -- I mean, yes, sometimes." Faith ran the necklace through her fingers, remembering the time she'd taken off the necklace and flung it into the garbage, angry at her mother for leaving her alone with people who didn't care about her. But later that night, she'd gone out to the trash and retrieved it. Did that make her incredibly weak, stupid, or just sentimental?

  "What about your dad?" Jessie asked. "What happened to him?"

  "I know nothing about him."

  "I don't know anything about my dad either. I mean, Alex thinks it's this guy named Saunders, but Melanie never said he was my dad. The way she talked about Alex -- well, I always thought he was my dad. But he says he's not. He doesn't want a kid anyway, so it's cool."

  Faith smiled sadly at Jessie's rambling bravado. She knew what it meant to live with uncertainty, to wonder if anyone would ever really love her. Jessie had had her mother for twelve years, but now she was alone, and Faith couldn't stop herself from giving Jessie a hug.

  Jessie broke away as soon as possible, her face a study in embarrassment and insecurity. "Why did you do that?"

  "Because I miss my mom, and I think maybe you miss yours, too."

  "Maybe -- a little." Jessie played with the pull top on her Coke can. "Why did she have to die?"

  Jessie looked up, pain shimmering in her eyes like raindrops about to fall.

  "I don't know. I guess it was her time."

  "Yeah, I guess." Jessie didn't say anything for a moment. "Melanie wasn't a very good mom. She didn't know how to cook or anything. And sometimes I kind of had to take care of her."

  So much weight had been placed on such very thin shoulders, Faith thought sadly. "I'm sure your mother loved you very much, Jessie."

  "She said she did." Jessie looked at Faith again, her eyes desperately seeking reassurance. "But she lied a lot."

  "Mothers don't lie about that. She kept you with her, Jess, all these years. She loved you. Don't ever doubt that."

  "It doesn't matter anymore. She's gone."

  "It will always matter, even when you're a little old lady with grandkids and great-grandkids."

  Jessie made a face. "I'm never getting married."

  "Someday I think you'll change your mind."

  "How come you're not married?"

  "It just hasn't happened yet."

  "Do you like Alex?"

  Faith had a feeling that was a loaded question. "Yes," she said warily.

  "He's not married."

  "No, he's not."

  "Melanie said he was a good husband. I think she was sorry they got divorced." Jessie paused. "Do you think there's any chance that you and Alex--"

  "We should get back to work," Faith said abruptly.

  "Okay." Jessie bit down on her bottom lip. "But -- do you think Alex will keep me, Faith? I mean, if I'm really good?"r />
  Faith's heart almost broke with the question. "I hope so, Jess. I really do."

  * * *

  "I don't have time, Pete. I need answers, and I need them now." Alex leaned back in his chair, holding the phone to his ear. "There must be some record of Eddie Saunders. He couldn't have vanished into thin air. Hang on a second." Alex put a hand over the phone and leaned over to sign the paper his secretary put in front of him. "Did I just sign my life away?"

  "No, but you gave me a big raise," Theresa said.

  "Seriously?"

  "Hotel contract for the trade-show reception."

  "Thank you." Alex adjusted the phone. "Sorry, Pete. Where were we?"

  "Nowhere," Pete replied in his rough, gravelly voice. He seemed to end each sentence with a punctuating cough. He was either a smoker or had a hell of a cold.

  "I'm not paying you the big bucks to get nowhere."

  "It's only been a few days. Can you tell me anything else about this guy?"

  "I told you everything I know."

  "Do you remember what he looked like?"

  Alex started to say no, then stopped, suddenly remembering that brief painful moment in the hospital room all those years ago. He'd decided to give Melanie one more chance. He'd brought roses and was going to make her an offer she couldn't refuse. But he'd found her in Eddie's arms. They'd been kissing but must have sensed his presence, for they'd turned, and he'd seen the face of the man who was stealing his future right out from under him.

  "Beady eyes," he said. "Long face, pale skin, blond hair, no muscle. I don't know what she saw in him."

  "Apparently she didn't see enough in him to stick around."

  Which was another odd thing. Melanie had told him she was in love with Eddie, and that Eddie wanted to marry her. What had happened to stop them? It didn't make sense.

  "I'll keep looking," Pete said. "I haven't been stumped yet. If this guy exists, you'll have him."

  "When?"

  "Now, that's a tougher call."

  "I want you working on this twenty-four hours a day. Whatever it takes. Whatever it costs." Alex took a deep breath. "I want Jessie gone by the end of the week."

  "Not much of a family man, huh?"

  The words cut deep. "No, I'm not. Just find Eddie Saunders, and when you do, don't let him slip away. It's about time Eddie finally became a father."