A Baxter's Redemption

by Patricia Johns

  “I am!” She nodded quickly. “Isabel says I’m really good in the kitchen. She says I don’t have to help customers if I don’t want to.”

  “Do you really want to be kept in the kitchen?” he asked.

  “Oh, I can go out and help people choose chocolate if I want to,” she said. “I just don’t want to.”

  “Fair enough.” As much as he’d worried about this before, he had to admit that the job did seem like a good fit for Jenny, after all. His sister seemed more confident, somehow, more sure of herself.

  “Other people don’t think I’m very good at things,” Jenny said. “They think I can just do something small and that’s it. But Isabel thinks I’m good at making chocolate. She wouldn’t let Britney in the kitchen. She said that I did everything perfectly.”

  “Yeah?” He was curious to ask more about Isabel and Britney’s dynamic, but he didn’t want to put Jenny in the middle.

  “She says that I could even become a chef one day if I wanted to. She says that it takes a special kind of person to make candy, and that I’m that kind of person.”

  “A sweet person?” James teased.

  “Oh, stop it,” Jenny replied. “I’m being serious.”

  “Okay, sorry.”

  “Isabel says that even if her store doesn’t last too long, I could get a job in a bakery or something, but she says that she hopes I’ll stay working for her, because she doesn’t know how she’d do everything without me to help her.”

  “She said that she was worried about the store?” James asked quickly.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  James sighed. He refused to accept Izzy’s charity, and Izzy refused to accept his emotional support. He missed her—more than he should. More than he wanted to. He wanted to keep her at arm’s length, but give him time alone with her, and he always ended up a whole lot closer. She’d been creeping into his dreams at night, where he’d pull her into his arms and kiss those pink lips... But those were dreams and this was reality.

  “How come you’re sad, Jimmy?” Jenny asked softly.

  “Because I’m disappointed about something,” he said. “It’s okay. It’s nothing to do with you.”

  “I’m in the newspaper,” Jenny said with a hopeful smile. She pushed the Haggerston Chronicle toward him across the table. “And I look good.”

  James looked down at the picture on the third page—Isabel, Britney and Jenny standing in the store, smiling into the camera with the Baxter’s Chocolates sign behind them. The headline above said Isabel Baxter Opens Local Chocolate Store. Nothing terribly descriptive there.

  “You do look good,” he said with a grin. “Very pretty.”

  “Isabel says it’s better to be called ‘ma’am,’” Jenny replied archly.

  He had the sneaking suspicion that Jenny had just set him for that, and he chuckled. His gaze skimmed over the article beneath, and he stopped at a direct quote from Isabel.

  “I’m not doing this alone. I have help. A company is nothing without skilled employees, and what you’ve heard is right—one of my chocolatiers-in-training is a young woman with Down syndrome. Baxter’s Chocolates is about inclusiveness and respect. We’d be nothing without this community, and that includes people with disabilities.”

  It was smooth—well constructed. She’d thought out this response in advance. And there it was—the machinations he’d been waiting for. Jenny wasn’t a cause to be trotted out for newspapers. She wasn’t a box to be ticked. If Isabel was looking for a sympathy card, she’d have to find someone else, because while Jenny didn’t see it yet, she’d be devastated if she discovered that Isabel had used her. Jenny didn’t know how to swim with sharks.

  “Jenny, I’m going to head out,” James said, standing up. “You mind if I keep this paper?”

  “It’s my only one,” Jenny said. “You have to bring it back.”

  “I promise.” He forced a smile, anger pulsing through him. He knew that the anger was covering something more tender—something that ached like betrayal—but he wasn’t about to go poking around at his feelings.

  Isabel Baxter had crossed a line, and he was in no mood to step lightly. It was time they got a few things straight.

  * * *

  ISABEL HAD JUST gotten home from her second day of business, and she stood outside her tiny house, bathed in the warm light that flooded out the windows. The sun had slipped behind the jagged mountains, leaving the sky washed in coral pink and orange. This used to be her favorite time of day when she visited her dad—standing with him in the garden at sunset, listening to the whir of insects and watching the darkening twilight. Why did it still feel like that was a possibility?

  She could hear the truck’s engine before it turned into her drive, headlights bouncing along the gravel drive toward her. She crossed her arms, a cool breeze bringing up the goose bumps. She recognized it was James as he parked, and she turned toward the truck as he got out. He held a folded newspaper in his hand, and he didn’t speak.

  “Hi,” she said with a small smile.

  “Are you okay?” he asked after a pause.

  She must have looked as melancholy as she felt.

  “It’s a hard time of day to be alone,” she said.

  He nodded. “I get that. How was the grand opening?”

  “Excellent. Didn’t Jenny tell you?” She’d seen him when he picked Jenny up, just a wave through the window, nothing more. That distance had stung, reminding her that their earlier closeness had been purely professional. Warm looks and sweet words all part of the job. And the kiss? Maybe that had just been a mistake.

  “Yeah, she did...” He cleared his throat. “Speaking of Jenny—”

  She paused, waiting. Did Jenny want to quit? Was her brother going to negotiate a raise?

  “Is she okay?” Isabel asked.

  “She’s fine,” he said. “Me—not so much.” He passed her the folded newspaper, and she looked down at the picture of herself, Jenny and Britney standing in the store together. She had a copy of the article inside, and she was pleased with it. This kind of advertising was ideal.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked, looking up. “Did you not want Jenny in the picture? The photographer was there to take pictures of all of us. She wasn’t pressured, I assure you.”

  “It isn’t the picture.” Tension rippled along his jawline. “It’s your quote.”

  “I know what I said.” She handed the paper back. “What’s the problem with it?”

  “Why did you hire Jenny?” he asked, and she frowned. That wasn’t what she’d been expecting.

  “You know why I hired Jenny. She needed a job, and I thought she might be a good fit for my store,” she replied. “And I was right. She’s excellent. What’s the problem, James?”

  “One of my employees is a woman with Down syndrome,” he paraphrased. “Baxter’s Chocolates is about inclusiveness and respect.”

  Her words in his mouth sounded hollow and mildly self-serving, but that hadn’t been the way she’d intended them. That hadn’t been the way the article had spun them, either.

  “Are you seriously suggesting that I hired Jenny to make myself look good for a local newspaper article?” she demanded.

  “No.” The word was clipped, angry. “But I am suggesting that you used her for your own ends. You didn’t have to do that to her, Izzy. You could have just smiled for the camera and let Jenny be Jenny.”

  “Is she upset?” Isabel asked, worry building up inside her. If she’d offended Jenny, she would have to apologize and make it right. That hadn’t been her intention at all.

  “No!” James ran a hand through his hair. “No, I’m the one who’s mad!”

  “I don’t think you have a right,” she shot back, her own anger rising. Who did he think he was? “When I hired your sister
, I didn’t sign any confidentiality agreements. Jenny isn’t a dirty secret to hide. The photographer asked me about rumors that I was hiring employees with disabilities. I simply answered him and told him where I stood. Baxter’s Chocolates is mine, it’s my work, my vision. My personal views on the valuable contribution of my employees are mine to share whenever I please!”

  “Then maybe Jenny is working for the wrong person,” he retorted.

  “Are you seriously going to make her quit because I stood up for her in print?” Isabel demanded.

  “This reminds me too much of your gardener,” James said. “You used him to look sympathetic to get the beauty queen crown.”

  “I was eighteen!” Isabel threw her hands in the air in exasperation. “I thought I explained this to you! How on earth was I supposed to have any experience with human pain at that age? I was young, I was sheltered and I did my best to broaden my views. I’m no longer a teenager, and you can stop throwing that in my face.”

  “It isn’t that,” James said, and he swallowed hard, then looked away.

  “Then what?” she demanded. “What is it? Because I don’t understand why I’m suddenly the bad guy here!”

  “It’s Andrew!” James turned to face her, his eyes flashing. “Do you even remember him?”

  “Of course I remember him!” She shook her head. She was embarrassed about how she’d handled things with Andrew, but what that had to do with James’s sister, she had no idea.

  “You used him,” James said. “You needed a tutor, he had a crush on you, and you used him.”

  “That isn’t true,” she snapped. “I needed a tutor, I offered to pay him and he refused payment. We got to know each other and I really liked him—” Emotion choked off her voice.

  “You had a funny way of showing it,” James said. “Because you wouldn’t tell anyone you liked him, or that you were dating him. He told me all about it, and he’d fallen in love with you. He told me that I didn’t know the real you...”

  And she’d dumped him. She remembered that all too well. She felt her cheeks heat, and she hoped James couldn’t see that in this dim light.

  “Okay, I was cruel.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I could have handled that better.”

  “Do you notice that he didn’t come to the prom?” James pressed. “Because he wasn’t there. He left early for boot camp, and he never came back.”

  “He left early because of me?” she asked in disbelief. Somehow, she’d never really considered that her cruelty would have left such a lasting mark on the young man. She’d assumed that he’d brush it off, maybe be angry with her, but she never once dreamed that she’d broken his heart...

  “He did,” James said. “He was an eighteen-year-old kid, too, and he was humiliated. You told him that you cared about him, and the minute he let that slip and word got out, you called him a liar and walked away.”

  She was stunned. “James, I’m so sorry...”

  “Yeah.” He heaved a sigh.

  “I don’t know what to say—” She brushed a tear from her cheek. “I was young, stupid and thoughtless. If I could take it back...”

  “I’m not blaming you for his death,” James said, his voice tight with emotion. “That was the war, not you. I’m just saying that you have a track record for using people and tossing them aside.”

  “James, I’m not using your sister.” She looked up into his face, wishing there was some way she could make him believe her. “And I’m not using you.”

  “I couldn’t blame you for using me if you were,” he said, his tone dropping low. He ran a finger down her cheek. “I’ve been the idiot putting myself in your path...hoping for... I don’t even know what.”

  “I didn’t know,” she whispered.

  “It’s okay.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I’m no smarter than Andrew was. I knew what I was doing, I knew you were a shark, and I still let myself fall in love with you.”

  His words echoed through her mind.

  “You love me?”

  He slid a hand behind her neck, nestled it deep into her hair and tugged her closer until his lips hovered over hers.

  “Yeah,” he whispered gruffly.

  His lips brushed hers, and when she lifted her face to his, his mouth covered hers in a warm, bittersweet kiss. She leaned into his strong arms, and when he pulled back, he gave her a sad smile.

  “Sorry,” he murmured.

  “I’ve fallen for you, too,” she admitted softly.

  “We need to stop this now,” he said, releasing her.

  “Do we?” she asked. “Why?”

  “Because it can’t work,” he said, and the sadness in his eyes showed how hard this was for him to say. “I can’t fool around, Izzy. I’ve got Jenny to consider, and I’m not the kind of man who can keep his heart guarded forever. Look how successful I was with you.”

  “But why is Jenny a problem?” she pressed.

  “Because she’s my sister, and I have to take care of her. I need a woman who can do that with me—not grudgingly, but willingly. I need a woman to shoulder all those difficulties with me.”

  “And I’m not that woman,” she whispered, the realization hitting her in the gut. He didn’t think she could handle the hard stuff. He was a realistic man who knew that life was difficult, and he just didn’t trust her to have his back.

  “Besides, you might not have a fortune now, but you’re still a Baxter.”

  “Meaning what?” She frowned. “A Baxter without money, without her looks, still isn’t an ordinary person?”

  “Izzy,” he said quietly. “You still have all the power. You always did. You own the house my sister lives in, and you provide her with a job. One of these days, you’ll need a lawyer, and you’ll hire me. You’re George Baxter, in a prettier form.”

  Her father had never recognized their similarities, and now all those parallels were being thrown into her face.

  “I am just like my father,” she said, her voice shaking with emotion. “And I’ll build that store into something the entire state looks at with respect. And I won’t apologize for being my father’s daughter.”

  “Nor should you.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m saying it all wrong. You are a formidable woman, and I’m not sure that I’ll ever completely stop loving you. But I’m the kind of guy who needs a woman at my side—equals, partners. I’m no good at pedestals.”

  And Isabel realized he was right. She might be ordinary in her bank account and her lack of an estate, and she might be ordinary in her loneliness at sunset, but her father had very carefully made sure she had power over the handsome lawyer. Giving her that house had cemented that position, and she hadn’t even noticed it, because she was so used to being on top. Most men seemed to like the idea of either taking care of her or looking up at her, but James was the one, heartbreaking exception.

  “You have no idea how badly I wish it could work,” he said, a catch in his voice.

  “I know.” She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “Me, too.”

  James bent and kissed her forehead, then turned back to the truck. “Izzy, I’m moving Jenny into my place. It’s better that way.”

  She didn’t answer, and he didn’t wait for her to. He started the truck again and slowly pulled out. James wasn’t a man who could be led on a leash, and she realized that she didn’t want to. With his last gift to her, her father had set her up as a Baxter woman with some clout, and he’d effectively put her up on a pedestal—the loneliest place in the world.

  When James’s truck pulled out onto the main road, Isabel gave up fighting her tears. She’d fallen in love with a man who wouldn’t play the Baxter game, and she didn’t know any other way to be.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  THE NEXT EVENING, Isabel sat on the couch in her father’s living
room. His chair sat empty, the ridiculous orange chair mocking her from across the room. None of it seemed to matter quite so much now, and she looked over at Britney, who sat across the couch from her.

  “My parents want me to move back in with them,” Britney said. “But I said no.”

  Isabel looked at the younger woman in surprise. “You don’t want the extra help?”

  “Not really.” Britney smiled sadly. “I want to raise my daughter in her father’s house.”

  Isabel nodded. “It’s a good place to grow up.”

  “My family thought I was crazy to marry your dad, too,” she said. “They thought I was throwing my life away on an old man.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t more supportive,” Isabel said.

  “It’s okay, I get it.” Britney rubbed her hand over her belly. “I’m scared, though. For all the flak I got for marrying George, I’m now on my own.”

  “No, you aren’t.”

  “How do you figure?” Britney cast her a bland look. “Should I move back into my parents’ house?”

  “We Baxter women aren’t pushovers,” Isabel replied. “We might have acted the part at some time or other, but deep down we’re strong. We’re smart. We have what it takes to really make something.”

  “We?” Britney asked.

  “We’re both Baxters, Britney. And I meant it when I said that you could be a part of it.”

  Britney shifted her position and smiled that gentle, secretive smile that mothers had. “Do you want to feel the baby kick? She’s pretty active in there.”

  “Okay...” Isabel put a hand out tentatively, and Britney put it onto her stomach. At first she felt nothing, then there was a little tap, then another. She grinned. “I felt that!”

  “Yeah...” Britney laughed softly. “I feel that all the time now.” She was quiet for a moment. “Isabel, I always wished I could be more like you.”

  “No, you don’t...” Isabel shook her head.

  “You were strong, beautiful, confident,” Britney countered.