“Sorry,” Bethany said, her cheeks turning slightly pink. “I like chocolate.”
“Totally understandable.”
She melted the chocolate with heavy cream and added a bit more peanut butter. Once it was smooth, Bethany retrieved the pies, and the chocolate was layered on top.
“It’s so shiny and silky looking,” Bethany said, her voice quiet, as if she worried she might disturb the atmosphere.
“The sign of a good ganache,” Charlie told her as she finished spreading. “There.” She surveyed her work, the swish marks from the spatula, the evenness of the crust. With a nod, she said, “Into the fridge for an hour or two and they’re good to go.”
“I hope Sandy lets us cut one. Where is she, anyway?” Bethany stood on her toes and craned her neck to see out to the front. Her eyes went wide and she turned to Charlie and mouthed, He’s here!
Charlie made the same opposite-of-subtle maneuver and saw the gentleman she’d noticed a while back. “The silver fox?” she whispered to Bethany, who nodded so enthusiastically, she looked like a cartoon character.
He’d been in several times since she’d started working at The Muffin Top, and he always took his time deciding. At first, she and Bethany thought he was just indecisive, but the third time? No. Much more than that. He wanted to spend as much time as he could chatting with Sandy. They’d nicknamed him the silver fox because of his gorgeous head of wavy silver hair and the fact that he was super handsome. Charlie wasn’t sure if Sandy had any idea or was completely oblivious to his moves.
She and Bethany each took a spot on either side of the open area so they could hear, even if they couldn’t see.
“I’d like to give the macarons a try today.” The man’s voice was deep, soothing. Charlie remembered his salt-and-pepper goatee and the kindness in his eyes.
“I think you’ll like them,” Sandy replied. Her voice held a slight and uncharacteristic tremble and Charlie looked at Bethany with a grin. She likes him! she mouthed, and Bethany did her crazy nod again as their question was finally answered.
Any further conversation was too muted for them to hear, until Sandy said, “Have a great day, okay?” and the gentleman said, “It’s already looking so much better.”
She and Bethany made tandem OMG! faces, complete with wide eyes and open mouths, and they waited until the bell over the door tinkled and they were sure the man was gone.
Bethany burst through the kitchen door first. “That man wants you.”
Sandy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What?”
“We were totally eavesdropping, and that’s the only possible conclusion.”
Sandy turned to Charlie, who simply shrugged and grinned. “Sorry not sorry.”
Sandy’s blush was immediate and very, very deep.
“Oh my God, you’re so cute,” Charlie said as Bethany walked to Sandy, wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“He’s very handsome, isn’t he?” Sandy said quietly as the bell signaled a new customer. When the three of them looked up, it was the man again, and he stopped as he realized there were now three of them behind the counter…all staring at him.
“Um…” Charlie looked at Bethany. “We’d better go check on…the stuff.” She jerked her head toward the kitchen.
It took a beat before Bethany caught on. “Oh. Oh. Yes. The stuff. That needs checking. Yes. We should do that.”
The two of them hustled into the kitchen and took their previous spots on either side of the opening.
“Hi again,” Sandy said. “Did you forget something?”
“I did.” Charlie fanned herself in response to his voice, and Bethany silently giggled. “Listen, um, this might be incredibly out of line. I hope not, but if it is, just tell me, okay? So, the Shaker Falls Summer Fest starts this weekend. I was wondering…” Charlie and Bethany looked at each other, fists clenched, eyebrows raised expectantly. “Is that something you’d be at all interested in going to? I mean, with me?”
“Like, on a date?” Sandy asked, and the confidence in her voice surprised Charlie, who made an impressed face and gave Bethany a thumbs-up.
“Yes. Yes. Like, on a date. Exactly like that.”
“I think I would very much enjoy that.”
“You would?” The man sounded so shocked that Charlie felt her heart warm for him, and she pressed a hand to her chest.
“Yeah. I would.”
“Oh, that’s fantastic. I’m Eric, by the way,” he said, and Charlie peeked enough to see him hold out his hand over the counter.
“Sandy,” Sandy replied and took his hand, shook it.
“You’re open on Saturdays, right?”
Bethany burst into action then, startling Charlie so much she jumped as Bethany headed to the front. Charlie cautiously followed.
“Hey, Sandy?” Bethany stopped as Sandy’s surprised face turned to her. “I almost forgot to ask you. I could really use some extra hours this week. My car needs new tires and my dad says I have to help pay for them.”
“Oh,” Sandy said. “Okay.” She drew the word out, clearly not seeing where Bethany was going. Charlie jumped in to help.
“Didn’t you say earlier that you wished you could work a longer shift on Saturday?”
Bethany looked at her with gratitude. “Yes! Yes. I said exactly that. Earlier. This morning, in fact. You may not have heard me.”
Sandy was catching on, as was Eric, who smiled. “So you want to work Saturday?” she asked Bethany.
“I do.” Bethany gave a nod. “All day.”
“And I do, too.” Charlie grinned. “And then there would be two of us here and that would mean that you could take a much-needed day off. And go do…something. Whatever.”
“Exactly.” Bethany pointed at Sandy. “When was the last time you had an entire weekend off?”
Sandy’s smile was beautiful, her dimples prominent. “It’s been a while.”
“Then you’re due.” Bethany smiled. “Me and Charlie will take care of the shop on Saturday and you can go do…whatever.” She shot a look toward Eric, turned on her heel, and headed back into the kitchen.
Charlie followed her, and they fist-bumped once Sandy could no longer see them. “Our work here is done.”
* * *
It had been a risk staying open on Mondays. Lots of restaurants closed Sunday and Monday to give their staff a proper two days off. And that’s how things had started for EG’s. Open Tuesday through Saturday, closed Sunday and Monday. Within a few months, though, Emma saw an opportunity. It seemed that most other restaurants in the area also closed on Mondays, the exceptions being fast food places and simple diners and cafés, and she wondered if it might be worth it to pick up the customers who wanted someplace nice to dine on a Monday night. So she’d experimented. And had been open on Mondays ever since.
Which, of course, made for a long week for her. She didn’t expect others to work the hours she did—it was her place. So Emma manned the bar herself until four, when Sabrina would come in. She didn’t mind it, but having only one day off a week could be a lot, and she was stifling a yawn behind the bar when Charlie walked in, arms full of pies.
“Wow,” Charlie said. “I’ve been here for four seconds, and already, you’re bored with me.”
Emma waved a hand and chuckled. “Sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night.” That was the truth. Her mind had been a whirlwind of thoughts after the barbecue, and she’d tossed and turned and remembered seeing 3:27 on the clock.
“No? Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” Charlie nibbled on her bottom lip and set the pies down on the bar. Then she looked around. “I really like this place, Em.” Her voice was quiet and sounded genuine. “It’s got a great atmosphere. It’s comfortable and inviting and you want to sit and just…hang out.”
“Thank you.” Somehow, the compliment worked its way into Emma’s heart and settled there, made her feel warm, as if it meant more than a compliment from any other person. The ice Charlie had created so long ago was star
ting to melt—Emma could feel it. She wasn’t sure what to do with that and so did her best to shake it away. Because ignoring things always worked best. “You bring me chocolate peanut butter?”
“As requested.” Charlie surprised her then by taking a seat on one of the barstools.
“Want a drink?” The question was out of her mouth before Emma could catch it.
Charlie tipped her head to one side as she said, “I would love a drink.” She glanced at the stool in the corner, and Emma knew instinctively who she was looking for.
“She’s at work.”
Charlie flushed a pretty pink, glanced down at her hands on the bar. “How is she?” Charlie asked, and her expression said she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to ask. But of all the people in Emma’s life, Charlie was still the one person who knew her best, and the desire to open up and talk to her simultaneously felt like relief and pissed her off. Again, not sure what to do with that.
Emma lifted one shoulder as she pulled a glass out and began to make a cosmo without asking Charlie if that’s what she wanted. She just knew. “She’s…” Emma shook her head. How to describe her mother? “She’s my mom. She’s a functioning alcoholic and we both know it. She should get some help and we both know that.” She closed the martini shaker, shook it over her shoulder, then strained the pink liquid into a glass. “We have some unspoken rules and do our best to follow them, but nothing will ever change until she wants it to. You know?”
Charlie nodded, her eyes filled with an understanding that Emma hadn’t seen from anyone in a long time, and took a sip of her cosmo. “That’s delicious,” she said. “Do you still live with her?”
Emma snorted. “God, no. I have an apartment upstairs.”
Charlie looked at the ceiling. “Oh, right. I think Amber mentioned you owned the building.”
“Well, the bank does, but yeah. It’s mine.”
“Is it hard to be so close to work? Like, do you have trouble separating work life and home life?” Charlie sipped again, those eyes watching her.
“When you’re the owner, I think it’s almost impossible to separate, you know? They bleed into each other. But it’s better than living with my mom.” Emma wiped down the bar, which wasn’t dirty, but she needed something to do with her hands. “I still worry about her. I still keep a close eye on her. But I just couldn’t live with that anymore, you know?” Charlie nodded. She did know. Emma knew that. Charlie might be the only one who knew. Nights of finding her mother passed out on the bathroom floor, cleaning up vomit from various surfaces, worrying when she wasn’t sure where her mom was. She’d had to grow up fast, and Charlie’d been there for the whole thing.
“Is that why you came back here?” Charlie’s voice was soft, hesitant, again as if she wasn’t quite sure she was allowed to tread this path.
Emma found she didn’t mind—and that was weird. She nodded, then decided to just address the elephant in the room. “I hate that I feel comfortable talking to you about this stuff. You know that, right?”
Charlie’s throat moved as she swallowed. “I know. Should I shut up?”
“God, I have hated you for so long.” Emma wasn’t sure she’d meant to say that out loud, but Charlie didn’t look surprised. Instead, she nodded.
“I know.”
“And now I’m standing here, talking to you about personal stuff over a drink, and I feel…” She looked away. Vulnerability was not her thing. She didn’t do it well, didn’t like the way it made her feel. Weak. Exposed.
“You feel what?” Charlie sounded shockingly calm with this discussion, but Emma knew by looking at her that she was bracing for an onslaught. One she deserved. One Emma had dreamed of hitting her with.
Instead, she blew out a breath that flapped her lips, draped the bar rag over her shoulder, and grabbed her order pad so she could count the bottles behind the bar. “I’m not sure what I feel.” With her pen, she pointed at each bottle, which wasn’t really necessary, as she wasn’t actually counting anything, but she wanted—no, needed—to look like she was busy with something other than the confusion Charlie was causing her.
“I get that.”
Emma entertained several different responses in her head before simply accepting Charlie’s words.
They were quiet for a moment, then Charlie said, “Hey, do you know who owns that shop next to the bakery?”
A change of subject. Thank God. “The empty one?” At Charlie’s nod, she told her what she knew. “It was a little boutique of some kind, then a Verizon store, I think. It’s been empty for a few months now.”
“But you don’t know who owns it?”
“I don’t. But I imagine the same person owns the whole building, right? The bakery, the hardware store, and the empty shop?”
Charlie nodded, turning to look out the window, and Emma could see the wheels turning. Her thinking face had always been very distinctive, and Emma tried—and failed—to keep a small smile off her face.
“You looking to open a store? Your own pie shop?”
Charlie grinned. “No. But Sandy has me looking into coffee for her and…” She shrugged and looked almost embarrassed. “My brain was running away for a minute there.”
“You could always ask Amber. She’s in real estate, after all.”
Charlie’s eyes went wide. “I didn’t even think of that. You’re brilliant.” She pulled out her phone and whipped off what Emma assumed was a text to Amber.
That light in Charlie’s eyes was so easily recognizable, even now. Even after so much time. It was a creative spark, and part of Emma felt warm at seeing it again after so many years. She shook her head quickly and forced herself to focus on the bottles of alcohol, even though she wasn’t actually seeing them. What was the deal with her? Why was she suddenly so much less…angry with Charlie? Questions about Charlie’s past few years, her time in New York, her decision to leave everything familiar behind, began to form in Emma’s head. No, that wasn’t quite true. They didn’t just form, because they’d been there for the past five years. But they began to glow in her mind, make themselves known, move to the forefront. She turned and opened her mouth to ask one of them, but Charlie was sliding off her stool.
“Thank you so much for this,” Charlie said, indicating the glass as she left money on the bar. “I need to scoot.”
Emma waved the money away. “On the house.”
“You’re sure?” Charlie squinted, another look Emma recognized.
She nodded as Charlie thanked her, ordered her to refrigerate the pies, and headed for the door. Her hand on the handle, she turned back, and there was a hesitation that Emma didn’t expect. “Would it be okay with you if I came in for dinner sometime?” Charlie sounded so small as she added, “I’ve missed your cooking.”
In that moment, Emma was so grateful to be far enough away that Charlie couldn’t see her eyes mist. She swallowed and said, “Sure.”
Charlie said nothing more, just glanced down at her feet, then pushed her way through the door.
Emma stood there, unmoving, for a long moment before giving herself a shake. Only one question was on her mind now, one she had no answers to.
What the hell is happening?
Chapter Thirteen
“Okay. Hear me out.”
Charlie went around the front counter into the dining area of The Muffin Top. It was midafternoon on Friday, and the tables were empty. Normally quiet. A usual time for a lull, but something that Charlie was sure would change if she could get Sandy to see her vision. Like an illusionist, she waved her hand at the pink wall that the bakery shared with the empty shop next door. “We open this up. Either completely open, or partway using, like, a fun arched doorway or something. Either would work.”
Sandy stayed quiet, but Charlie could see her thinking, almost hear the wheels turning already.
“Then…” Charlie gestured for Sandy to follow her. They went out the front door, a few yards down the sidewalk, and in through the door to the empty shop, where Am
ber was waiting. “This is the coffee shop part of The Muffin Top. You can see it’s not terribly big, so it’s not like you’d be adding a huge space to deal with. We paint it to match the bakery. We trade this front door for a window and enlarge the current door at The Muffin Top so it’s double. And we put the coffee counter in here.” Waving her arms from left to right seemed the best way to get Sandy to see her vision. Sandy followed the movement, squinted, nodded. Looked pensive. “I ran some numbers.”
The better part of the last three days had been spent putting her business education to good use. She’d researched, she’d made charts, she’d weighed pros and cons, she’d crunched numbers, done a cost analysis, calculated possible profit and loss. Now, she took out a spreadsheet she’d made last night. In fact, she’d gotten less than two hours of sleep because she’d worked well into the night and then had been so excited to share her idea with Sandy that her brain wouldn’t settle.
“Here is my business forecast. I also emailed it to you.” She handed the spreadsheet to Sandy and went through the whole thing, pointing out numbers, goals, and possible profit.
Charlie’s nerves were jangly, like she’d had way too much caffeine. Or speed. Which was silly because there was nothing riding on her work. She was simply doing a favor for her boss, giving her an idea, showing her one possibility. But she hadn’t felt so in her element since before she’d left New York, and there was something about getting back to it, about diving back into a subject she was so passionate about, that energized her. Gave her a purpose she hadn’t felt in far too long. She’d finally woken up—that’s what it felt like.
“This is impressive,” Sandy said, her voice low, not looking up from the paper.
Amber shot a huge smile toward Charlie, gave her a thumbs-up. “Mr. Robertson likes you and was thrilled at the idea of renting this part of the building to you as well and not somebody new. He’s also open to talking construction, obviously.”
Sandy was nodding as she flipped through the papers. Bright, excited eyes were not what Charlie expected to see, but that’s what she got when Sandy raised her head. “Can I take this to my financial guy? Get his thoughts?” Her glance darted from Charlie to Amber and back. “Do I have time?”
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