by Cynthia Swan
Her aunt touched her hand, her rings winking in the light coming through the windows of the tiny diner.
“A much needed break. I’m so happy you’re here and we’ve reconnected.”
Christy’s throat closed up. “I am too.”
She took a breath. “I love it here. I’ve been thinking about buying a house here.”
“I think that’s a lovely idea, though you know you’re always welcome to stay with me whenever you visit.”
Christy smoothed her hands on her jeans.
“I know and I appreciate it. But I’d like to have a place of my own that I can decorate the way I want.”
“Whenever you’re ready to look, let me know and I’ll introduce to a great realtor. She always finds jewels.”
They finished lunch, then wandered through the final antique store. Her aunt found a couple of pieces she’d been looking for, including an old stoneware crock and a folding bench wringer.
“I cannot imagine having to wash clothes with this. What are you going to do with it?”
Her aunt touched one of the galvanized tubs.
“I thought it would look pretty filled with quilts.”
She told Christy the trick was to keep a running list of what you wanted but then never expect to find what you were looking for. Eventually, you always found what you were looking for. It made sense in a trust the universe kind of way.
The huge wood cabinet stopped Christy in her tracks. It was an old apothecary cabinet made of pine with lots of cubbies and drawers. As she ran her hands over the scarred wood, she felt a longing to own not only this piece but to put down roots. Somewhere she could belong. A place to spend her life. She might be young, but she’d moved around more in her twenty-three years than most people did in five lifetimes.
“Look at these sugar cookies.” Her aunt came around the corner holding up her phone.
Christy took the phone, looking at the post. There were hearts, love letters, envelopes, and a few other designs, all Valentine’s themed and beautifully decorated.
“I’d love to try making and icing cookies.”
“You must meet Miss Trudy.”
Christy handed back the phone.
“Who’s Miss Trudy.”
“Only the best cook in town. She’s eighty-five and a bit feisty, but I think you’d like her. I could call her and ask if she’d give you a few lessons?”
Christy pulled her attention away from the beautiful cabinet.
“I’d love that, thank you.”
Her aunt looked over the cabinet.
“They’ll deliver.”
“What? Where on earth would I put it? I don’t have a place of my own.”
“Yet.”
Alice patted her arm.
“Don’t worry about that, there are plenty of folks who would store it for you until you find a place.”
She winked. “This is how it starts, you find a piece that speaks to you and it’s all downhill from there.”
Christy laughed.
“Let’s do it. And come see the antique linen press I found.”
“Come on in, dear.”
Miss Trudy opened the door to the cottage, an embroidered dish towel in her hands. The house was less than ten minutes from the beach.
She’d gone with her aunt the first time to meet the best cookie maker in three counties. This time, Christy came alone for the lesson.
The cottage had a bright purple door. The ceiling of the porch was light blue. There was a porch swing piled with pillows that looked like the same swing her aunt had.
Christy could imagine whiling the day away with a book on that swing. Maybe she could have a porch swing with plants and comfortable chairs of her own one day?
It would mean retirement or finding something else to do, and honestly, she’d done nothing else. Was she even good at anything other than modeling?
Miss Trudy had painted the trim of the house lavender and the house itself a dark purple. It looked straight out of a fairytale except instead of the witch that cooked the children; she was meeting the fairy godmother.
“Thank you again for giving me baking lessons.”
The first time they’d met, Miss Trudy had gone over the basics. Christy had quickly pulled out her phone and recorded what she’d told her so she wouldn’t forget anything.
“I’m so happy for young people to take an interest in baking.”
Miss Trudy’s gray eyes twinkled behind glasses with purple frames.
“After cookies, we’ll work on cooking basics.”
Then she chuckled.
“A good meal is the best way to win a good man, and I hear there’s one in town with his eye on you.”
She blushed. “Dalton is an excellent chef, there’s no way I’d impress him with a bowl of soup.”
Miss Trudy pursed her lips.
“Men are simple creatures, dear. A bit of food, a smile, and a kind word, and they’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”
She tapped her wooden spoon on the edge of a glass bowl.
“Did I tell you how I met my dear Harold?”
“I love a wonderful story.”
Christy could listen to Miss Trudy all day. The woman traveled all over the world with her husband. He’d been a doctor for Doctors Without Borders. He’d passed away ten years ago, and she’d never remarried.
They talked about their favorite countries, and sights as the day passed. Miss Trudy was exactly the person Christy would have loved to have for a grandmother. She was yet another friend, and someone Christy hoped would be a part of her life.
Didn’t we all want to connect? To belong?
Miss Trudy didn’t care what she did for a living or how she looked. All she cared about was passing on her knowledge. She and her husband never had children. He’d been in an accident as a child, and she’d been so happy living a nomadic life that they’d never adopted either. So this was her way of leaving a part of herself behind when she was gone.
“Let me put some music on and we’ll get started.”
Miss Trudy put on a seventies station. The voice of Karen Carpenter filled the kitchen.
Hazel helped her find the measuring cups, spoons, and other items Miss Trudy told her to bring. While she was happy to let Christy use her things, Miss Trudy believed it would be better if she brought her own tools and got used to using them. That way when she went home to make the recipes on her own, the tools would be familiar to her. It made perfect sense.
Unable to resist, Christy picked pink measuring bowls, pink measuring cups, and blue ceramic measuring spoons with baby goats on them to match the cookie cutters she’d gone nuts over. She’d selected several wooden spoons and a large glass measuring cup. The sifter was white and said SIFT in big letters. It was adorable.
To top it all off, her aunt made her an apron in a pretty floral print, and it had big pockets on the front which she loved. Aunt Alice made a matching tote bag for her to carry all her supplies back and forth during her lessons.
Miss Trudy finished setting out everything they’d need. The kitchen was the largest room in the cottage.
“Do you want to make notes as we go, dear?”
Christy swallowed.
“Would you mind if I made a video of us so I can watch it later? It’s easier for me to see what I did and to remember for next time.”
“An excellent idea. I always wanted to be in film.” Miss Trudy giggled.
Christy set up her tablet so it would record the counter and both of them as they worked. The inside of the cottage was as adorable as the outside, with plants in every room, overstuffed floral sofas and chairs, and lots and lots of books.
There were pictures on the walls of all the places she and her late husband had traveled. Seeing how happy they looked together and hearing her talk about him made Christy hopeful that one day she’d find the same sort of partner. What would it be like to spend her life with Dalton?
Nope. He’d drive her crazy. She pushed the thou
ght aside and focused on sifting the flour for the cookies.
After they’d finished the cookies and made the icing, they took a break, sitting at the red table in the kitchen, talking and drinking tea.
They spent the rest of the day icing the cookies. It was harder than it looked in the videos she’d watched. But after a few which she ate to hide the evidence, Christy was getting the hang of it. Icing a cookie was like meditating, focusing on the icing and nothing else, letting her mind go blank while she worked.
“Now, let’s wrap them up so you can take a few to Hazel and Alice.” Miss Trudy brought out cellophane, ribbon, and a few, wait for it, purple boxes.
There were goats, beach balls, hearts, a sun, and a flower. Nothing too hard to start. Next time she wanted to try an ugly Christmas sweater and a Valentine’s envelope.
“Thank you. I had so much fun.”
Christy dried while Miss Trudy washed the dishes. They’d talked the entire time, getting to know one another.
“I enjoyed our time together. You’re a natural with icing and color.”
The compliment pleased her. Full of cookie rejects, Christy dropped the cookie packages off to Hazel and her aunt.
She even left a package of cookies for Dalton. He was at work, so instead of bothering him at the pub, she left them on a small table outside his back door.
She’d taken several pictures of the cookies to show Jo and her aunt. When the text came in from her mom, Christy frowned, then groaned as the phone rang.
“Christy Evans, what on earth have you done?”
“Hey, mom.”
“Don’t ‘hey, mom’, me young lady.”
The fury rolled through the phone.
“Are you trying to give me wrinkles? You look horrible. What have you done to your beautiful hair? Did you hack it all off with a chainsaw?”
Before giving her a chance to ask how she knew about her hair, her mom continued ranting and raving.
“I know you ate those horrid cookies. How many did you eat? You look fat in the picture and you don’t have any makeup on your face. What has gotten in to you?”
Oh, no. Somehow she’d sent the photos to her mom and not Aunt Alice. They were next to each other in her contacts, but she’d hit the wrong one. Great. Just great.
“You listen to me. It’s time for you to go get that awful color changed and get a decent haircut. You need regular treatments. Lasers, injectables, fillers, anything to hold back time. I know models are working longer nowadays, but you have to be perfect. And this vacation nonsense, well, they’re going to forget you and then you’ll have nothing.”
She put the phone down and went to look out the windows at the ocean until she heard her mom wind down.
“You call me when you’ve come to your senses.”
“Yes, mom.”
Christy hung up the phone. When she looked next door, she saw Dalton was home and not only that, but he was lying on his stomach in the sand behind his house. What on earth?
“What are you doing?”
Dalton jumped.
“Ow.” He sat up, rubbing his head where the branch scratched his forehead.
“Sam’s under here. I think a car hit him. I heard tires screeching and then heard a cry.”
Christy kneeled down next to him.
“What can I do to help?”
“Would you get the chicken out of the fridge? It’s his favorite.”
“Of course.”
She reached out, wiping his forehead.
“I’ll bring paper towels as well. You’re bleeding.”
He rubbed his forehead on his shirt, glad she didn’t see him do it.
While Dalton waited for her to come back outside, he took a few minutes to call the vet and let them know he was coming.
The sound of a door closing had Dalton looking up. She was beautiful, even with the bad dye job. When he’d asked Colton what else he knew about her, his brother had been surprisingly evasive.
“Here.”
She handed him a paper towel. While he cleaned off the side of his face, she shredded the chicken.
“Do we make a trail of chicken?”
He shoved the bloody paper towel in the pocket of his jeans.
“Yep. Hopefully it will work. If you’ll lay down a trail, I’ll grab the cat carrier and see if we can get him to come out.”
Without a second thought to getting her white jeans dirty, Dalton watched as Christy kneeled in the sand, then laid on her stomach, talkings softly to the cat so she wouldn’t scare him.
He ran to the truck, grabbed the carrier he’d purchased last week and came back, holding it over his head, hoping the cat wouldn’t see it.
Dalton paused, his mouth hanging open.
Christy was holding the cat close to her neck, talking softly while she rubbed Sam’s ears.
He was jealous. Of. A. Cat.
“Here you go, big boy.”
She gently set him in front of the carrier.
To Dalton’s shock, the cat limped into the carrier, one paw held in the air, and curled up.
“There you go. We’ll get you fixed up.”
She closed the door to the carrier.
“Could I come with you? I don’t want him to be scared.”
In that moment, Dalton knew she was a good person. Someone he could trust. If she was keeping something from him, it wasn’t anything important. Christy was beautiful and guileless, someone he could care for a great deal.
The news from the vet was positive. Sam had a fractured leg and would be fine, though his partying days were over. Dalton planned to keep him inside until he healed.
On the way home, he turned to her at a light.
“What are you doing for Valentine’s Day?”
She shifted in the passenger seat to look at him.
“I don’t have plans.”
“Would you spend the day with me?”
“I’d love to.” Christy smiled.
“Dress for being outside and leave the rest to me.”
“My kind of date.”
A date. Dalton couldn’t stop smiling the rest of the way back to the house.
10
Christy couldn’t believe she’d already been in Magnolia Beach for two entire weeks. The quiet of the off season soothed her soul. The relaxed days had given her plenty of time to think about going back to work or retiring from modeling and trying something else. Something that would keep her here in town.
“Rose and Alex are so nice. Dalton said they’re getting married in a few months.”
“In May. They picked a weekday to avoid the crowds. Wait until Memorial weekend, that’s when things really start hopping.” Hazel bagged up the groceries she’d placed on the counter, the antique register clacking and ringing as she added each item to the running total.
“You know, I never thought Mabel and Earl would beat them to the altar.” Hazel’s eyes sparkled.
“Want to know a secret?”
Was it hypocritical to want to know other’s secrets when she wouldn’t tell a soul her own secrets?
Before she could decide, Hazel leaned across the counter.
“Mabel and Earl are going to elope.” She placed her hands flat on the counter.
“Isn’t it romantic? I think she’d given up on love and then BAM, there was Earl, patiently waiting until she was ready.”
Hazel let out a sigh.
It was romantic. The small moments made a relationship work. Christy added two bananas to her groceries.
“What about you? Is there someone special in your life?”
In honor of Valentine’s, Hazel dressed in a white sweater with red hearts on the front, along with dark blue jeans and red boots. She had tiny red hearts dangling from her ears and a bracelet full of charms that tinkled every time she placed an item in the bag.
“Me?” Hazel shook her head.
“No. There hasn’t been anyone for a long time. I think I’m meant to spend my life alone.”
The look on her face must have given her away because Hazel reached out and patted her hand.
“Don’t feel bad for me. I’ve gotten to a point in life where I like to do what I want, when I want. If love shows up one day, great. And if not, that’s okay too.”
Hazel finished putting the mixed greens in the bag and told her the total.
Christy handed over her card.
“Is Tim feeling any better?”
Christy tucked the card back in the pocket of her jeans. She’d put on jeans, a black cashmere sweater, and a pair of short black boots. As a nod to the holiday, she’d added a red bangle bracelet with white hearts and a couple of rings with red stones.
“He sure hated missing out on delivering your groceries this week, but his mama said he’s almost over the food poisoning and will be back to work next week.”
Christy pulled an envelope out of her other pocket and slid it across the counter.
“Give him this. It’s his tip for this week.”
“There’s no need. He didn’t work, so you don’t need to tip him.”
Christy shook her head.
“I know how much he wants a car. He’s been so thoughtful, bringing the groceries inside for me. Consider it a get well soon gift.”
Hazel took the envelope and put it under the counter.
“He’ll be excited. That boy has a crush on you, along with half the town.”
Hazel smiled when she said it, putting Christy at ease. She was only teasing, not trying to be mean. For so long she’d been used to snarky comments that it was hard to take a compliment.
Christy carried the bags out to the car. It was too cold and windy to walk today. As she turned around to go back in the Sip and Shop for the last two bags, Hazel met her at the door, bags in hand.
“You should tell Dalton who you are.”
Hazel carried the bags to the car and placed them in the trunk with the others.
“His ex, Mackenzie, really put him through the wringer.” She blew out a breath. “He doesn’t like secrets.”
Hazel shut the trunk.
“What are you going to do if y’all get serious? You can’t keep the secret that you’re a famous model from him forever.”
