by Anna Argent
They used to be close, talking almost every day, sharing stories, talking about the jobs they were doing. But their work had sucked up their spare time, and little by little, they'd drifted apart. Until now, Saxon hadn't realized just how infrequently they really talked.
He'd missed it.
"It's good to have you here, man." He raised his beer. "We should do this more often."
"Maybe with real food, though. Frozen pizza doesn't count."
"We'll grill steaks next time. It's the only meal I can make with a decent chance of success."
"Yeah, and maybe you can get your cute new neighbor to convince Aunt Beth to make us a batch of chocolate chip cookies."
Saxon thought about how worried Gemma had been about her aunt's reaction to the unapproved redecoration. "Somehow I don't think Gemma is going to be getting any favors from Aunt Beth anytime soon."
As he spoke, a walker flew through the front picture window of Aunt Beth's house, shattering it. His sweet, elderly neighbor's voice was raised in anger, carrying easily across the street.
"Get out! I didn't ask for your help!"
Chapter Three
Gemma was used to her sweet aunt doting on her, fussing over her, teaching her how to bake, and generally treating her like she was the center of the universe.
Tonight, she didn't even rate high enough on the adoration scale to earn a pleasant conversation. In fact, Aunt Beth hadn't said anything to her since finding her precious rugs missing. And when Gemma pushed the subject, she was nearly hit with her aunt's walker as it flew past her head.
The huge front picture window shattered, stunning Gemma silent.
"Get out! I didn't ask for your help!" screamed Aunt Beth.
Whoa. This was not the sweet old woman that Gemma knew and loved. This woman was filled with anger and frustration. Maybe with a small side of hatred.
Gemma stood there, too shocked to know what to do. "I'm not leaving you."
"You're not welcome here. Get out before I call the police and have you arrested for trespassing."
Tears stung her eyes, but she bit the inside of her cheeks to fend off any waterworks. It hurt that Aunt Beth would treat her like this, but more than two decades of kindness could not be undone by one outburst of frustration.
"I didn't mean to upset you by fixing the house," Gemma said.
"You didn't fix anything. You made it ugly. That rug was a gift from Walter, and it's been in my life a lot longer than you have. You have no right to mess with my things."
Gemma knelt in front of her aunt's chair and took her wrinkled hands in hers. "The edge of that rug had curled up. What if you tripped on it and fell again? You can't tell me that Uncle Walter would have wanted that."
Someone knocked on the door. Saxon's deep voice came from the other side, easy to hear through the gaping hole in the window. "Everyone okay in there?"
"Go away!" Aunt Beth shouted. "Everyone just needs to go away." Her voice broke on that last part, cracking with emotion. Tears began to stream down her pale face, making her look much older and so very vulnerable.
Gemma's heart squeezed. How hard must it be for a woman as active and vital as Aunt Beth to suddenly be so frail and weak? She couldn't do the things for herself that she'd done all her life. She couldn't even stand up long enough to do the one thing she loved the most—baking for the residents of her beloved town.
Tears shimmered in her dark eyes, and her voice lost its fire. "Everything is gone. My life is over. Why can't you all just leave me alone to die in peace?"
It took every bit of strength Gemma had to keep her own tears from falling. To see her aunt suffer like this… it was impossible to bear. She was more like a mother than the woman who'd born Gemma. She had to find a way to fix this—to ease her aunt's pain. "That's not true. You still have a lot of living left to do. You just have to make some adjustments."
Saxon's head appeared in the broken window. Next to him was an equally handsome man whose resemblance to Saxon was uncanny. Definitely one of the Grace men, though she wasn't sure if it was one of his brothers or cousins.
"Is everything okay here?" Saxon asked.
Aunt Beth averted her face so the men couldn't see her crying.
Gemma's eyes pleaded with him to leave and save her aunt's pride. "We're fine. Just a little accident."
Saxon stared for a long moment before he nodded. "Okay, then. Mason and I will find something to patch the hole for tonight so you ladies don't have any raccoons move in while you sleep. Be back in a few."
"Thank you," she told him, more for his understanding than for the temporary repair.
When they were out of earshot, Aunt Beth spoke. "If I can't live my life the way I want, what point is there in living at all?"
"What is it you want to do?" Gemma asked. "We'll find a way to make it happen."
"I want my bakery back. I want to be a part of the community again. I want to go where I want, when I want, and not worry about how I'll get around. I'm tired of needing help for every little thing."
"You're still healing. You have to give yourself some time. The doctor said it would take months for you to recover."
"It's already been too long. Memorial Day is around the corner, and if the bakery isn't open for the summer tourist season, I'll miss my busiest time of the year."
"Is this about money?" Gemma asked. "Because if it is, then—"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence, young lady. Walter was a good husband. He left me with more than enough to get by on. It's not about the money. It's about the people who are counting on me."
Counting on her? For baked goods? That didn't make any sense at all.
"I don't understand. I want to help, but I can't if I don't understand."
"I promised to make six wedding cakes in June alone. And do you have any idea how many children have their birthday parties at the lake? And what about all those family picnics that just wouldn't be the same without one of Aunt Beth's pies? It may not seem like a big deal to you, but I take my work seriously. These aren't just cakes and cookies I'm making. They're memories."
Gemma had never looked at it like that before, but her aunt was right. Every summer, tons of people would flood the bakery. The kids were always excited to be spending time at the lake, and the parents often had an air of relaxed contentment about them. They all looked forward to coming here, and a stop at Aunt Beth's bakery was part of that. It was a tradition. They'd stop by on their way into town, picking up treats as part of the weekend festivities.
Gemma knelt there for a long time, forcing the pieces of her life to shift to make room for the woman who'd made her feel like a blessing instead of an obligation. There was nothing she wouldn't do for her aunt, and it was time to prove it.
"We'll do it together," she said. "You may not be able to run the bakery on your own yet, but with my help, we can stock the shelves in time."
"What about your fancy chef job in the city? You worked so hard to earn that position. That's why I didn't tell you about my little mishap until this week. I didn't want you to come running to help me and lose your job."
It had taken Gemma years to work her way up the ladder, dealing with narcissistic, bitchy, cutthroat chefs. She'd ignored their bad attitudes and insults, keeping her head down and doing the best job she could. She was never late, never sick, and did whatever was asked of her without complaint. It had taken a long time and a lot of hot, sweaty work, but she'd managed to land her first real executive chef job at a new, upscale restaurant in St. Louis. She got to set the menu and unleash her creativity. The owner even put her name on the menu, giving her the credit she'd only ever dreamed of having. She owed her boss a lot for giving her a chance, but she never would have even had that opportunity if not for Aunt Beth.
She was the one who taught Gemma to cook and bake and gave her a love for the kitchen. She was the one who fostered Gemma's creativity and nurtured her desire to explore new foods and techniques. If not for Aunt Beth's patient guidance
and boundless support, Gemma never would have made it through her first few crappy jobs as line cook and sous chef. But because she knew what lay on the other side of all that work, she refused to give up, knowing that one day she would own her own restaurant.
If Gemma quit her job now, that dream would be delayed by several years. Possibly even destroyed. After all that hard work, could she really walk away from everything she'd fought to build?
There wasn't even a moment's hesitation. In her heart, she knew the answer.
Aunt Beth was worth it—whatever the cost.
She squeezed Aunt Beth's hands gently. "There will be other jobs. There's only one you."
"See? That's exactly what I mean. You're such a good girl, and I love that you're so loyal, but you have a career to think about."
"A career I only have because of you. Besides, it would do me some good to take a little time off. You know there's no place I'd rather spend the summer than here with you—just like when I was a kid."
"Will your boss hold your job for you?"
"I'm sure he will. I'm indispensable." It was a lie, but a necessary one if she was going to get Aunt Beth to cooperate.
"I've always thought so. But still, you can't mess up your big plans. I know you've got your heart set on owning your own restaurant someday."
Gemma waved her dream off as unimportant, even though everything in her screamed that her future was anything but. "It'll wait. The summer tourist season is almost here, which is a much more pressing concern."
"If it's going to hurt your career, I won't let you stay."
"My career will be fine. I'm much more worried about seeing you back on your feet again, singing while you bake up family memories."
Aunt Beth swallowed and wiped her eyes. "Do you really think it's possible I can have my old life back?"
"I don't know if it will ever be exactly like it was before your fall, and you have to have an open mind about making some small concessions—maybe hiring an assistant—but I promise you that your life will still be awesome. I won't leave here until it is."
"With you here, it's already one hundred percent better."
"So, is that a yes? Do you want to be partners?"
More tears overflowed her wrinkled eyes. "There's nothing I'd love more."
They hugged, and the frailty of her aunt became even clearer. Her body was thin and weak, but there was a core of steel running through the woman.
That was the part that Gemma had always admired. And that was the part that would grow stronger every day with the right care. All Gemma had to do was keep her aunt's hopes and dreams alive so that her body could heal.
With any luck at all, Gemma wouldn't lose too many years reaching her own dream in the process.
Chapter Four
The Rise and Shine Bakery was ruined.
Gemma had swung by the building at first light the next morning, eager to take stock of what needed to be done before they could open for the summer tourist season. But rather than finding a bit of dust and empty shelves that needed to be stocked, what she found was a nightmare.
For as long as Gemma could remember, the Rise and Shine Bakery had been a homey space made warm and cozy by the décor, the wonderful scents of bread and sweets emanating from the kitchen, and the absolute cleanliness that Aunt Beth always insisted upon.
Antique quilts and cooking gadgets lined the walls, dampening the echo of the high plaster ceilings and hardwood floors. Starched eyelet curtains framed the windows, serving to both keep out the worst of the hot sun and as a way to capture the fragrant scents of Aunt Beth's glorious treats.
A sparkling glass display case housing an array of golden pastries had always been the crowning jewel, tempting even the most diet-conscious tourists to come in and see what they were missing.
Now, however, what was once a warm, inviting spot to linger over a cup of coffee and a scone was now a moldering, dank cave.
Dark water stains covered the ceiling over the display counter. The antique plaster sagged under the weight of the last rain—maybe even more than one. Water had pooled on the floor behind the counter, gathering in a slight depression in the old floorboards. While there were signs that some of the rainwater had evaporated, it had been there long enough that mold was growing on the wooden cabinets nearby. The hardwood floors—which had been in the quaint old downtown building longer than Aunt Beth had been alive—were completely destroyed.
Gemma stood there in shock, taking in all the damage. It took several minutes for shock to turn to denial, to turn to horror.
Despair swept through her on razor wings, slicing apart her plans. All she could think about was how devastated Aunt Beth would be when she saw the damage that had been done to her beloved bakery. After the emotional toil she'd endured with her broken hip, the shock and loss of such a big part of her life might well be the death of her.
Gemma couldn't let that happen. She had to keep the damage a secret until she had time to make it right again. Once all the repairs were complete, then she'd tell her aunt what had happened.
As good a plan as that was, how the hell was she going to repair all of this damage and get everything ready to open in the next three weeks?
It was impossible. Even if she did have the money for materials—which she didn't—she didn't have the skill to do the repairs. She could clean, paint a wall or maybe even lay tile, but she had no clue what it took to rebuild a plaster ceiling or repair a roof so it wouldn't leak again.
All her grand plans of helping get Aunt Beth back on her feet shattered, leaving Gemma with a pile of dashed hopes and frustration. It was all she could do not to hang her head and cry.
Aunt Beth deserved better than this. Gemma's entire life, Aunt Beth had been the one who'd cared for her, taught her things, spent time with her. Wanted her.
Dad was a high-powered lawyer and Mom was a medical research scientist. Neither one of them had planned on having kids, and it didn't take long for Gemma to figure out that she'd been an accident. A mistake. A burden.
Sure, her parents had seen that she went to the best schools and that her basic needs were always provided, but not by either one of them. The closest thing she had to a real, loving, attentive parent was a string of lackluster nannies, and Aunt Beth, who had always made sure that Gemma knew she was wanted and loved.
And now it was her turn to repay her aunt for all those summers of love and fun.
Somehow, Gemma had to find a way to fix this bakery, even if she had to crawl into debt up to her eyeballs to make it happen.
She had some savings tucked away toward her dream restaurant. Now that would go to keeping Aunt Beth's dream alive. As far as Gemma was concerned, there was no better use for it. Hopefully it would be enough to get a good start on the materials she'd need for repairs—as soon as she figured out what those materials might be. At this point, she wasn't even sure how to figure out what needed to be done, much less do it.
And as far as her lack of repair knowledge went…she'd just have to figure it out. She'd learned a bunch of different cooking techniques on YouTube. Maybe she could learn how to fix the roof that way, too.
And if not, then she'd hire out the parts she couldn't do herself and pray that the local bank would give her a loan. Of course, she didn't own the bakery—or any other property—so she had no real collateral, but her car was paid for. She'd sell that if she had to. The modest little Nissan wasn't much, but it was worth at least a few thousand.
The brass bell hanging on the front door let out a cheerful tinkle, startling Gemma. It was hardly past six in the morning—too early for her to worry about customers. But apparently, she forgot how early some of the locals got up to go fishing.
She looked up to tell whoever had come in that the bakery wasn't open for business yet, but the words died on her lips when she saw Saxon Grace.
His big frame was silhouetted by the early dawn light, accentuating the strong lines of his lean body. He wore a pale green Grace Construction T-
shirt tucked into a pair of faded jeans that hugged his thick thighs. Worn boots completed his work uniform, which while not fancy, was definitely mouth-watering.
As distractions went, he was a sexy one.
"Morning, Gemma."
His deep voice sent a visceral thrill winging through her raw nerves, easing some of her anxiety.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"I saw someone moving around in here," he said. "Thought I should check it out and make sure it wasn't kids up to no good."
She'd forgotten how nice it was that people in small towns looked out for each other. Of course, that came with a heaping side dish of nosiness, but right now, she was simply glad that she wasn't standing alone in this ruined building.
"It's just me," was her lame response.
His gaze slid up and down her body, heating as it went. After a thorough perusal, he looked above her head, and his expression darkened. "What the hell?"
She let out a long sigh. "My sentiments exactly."
He held out his hand. "Step out from under that plaster, Gemma. It could collapse."
She looked up at the soggy, sagging ceiling, suddenly realizing that he was right. She hurried out from behind the counter. With the way her luck was running, she'd be killed by a wet plaster avalanche at the ripe, old age of twenty-six.
"What happened here?" he asked.
"Aunt Beth mentioned an ice storm a few months ago. She said a tree branch fell on the roof. I guess this was the result."
"No way. Aunt Beth called me when it happened, right before she fell. I was the one who cut that tree into firewood and hauled it out of the way for her. Since it’s hard to see damage on flat roofs like this one from the ground, I even got up on the roof myself and made sure the waterproofing was intact. Everything was fine then."
The way he'd looked out for Aunt Beth was so sweet she wanted to hug him, and not just because she needed to feel that hard, hot body against hers again. "I guess the damage wasn't visible."
"Like hell. I know what I'm doing. The branch just grazed the ledge around the roof, rather than actually landing on it. The only thing that was damaged was one window, which I repaired."
