by Olivia Miles
She skirted a glance toward Robbie. Well, most things.
With that, she walked down the hall to the bright and sunny kitchen, where Keira was already standing with a wooden spoon in one hand and a mixing bowl in the other.
Robbie and Britt laughed. “I can see you’re all ready!” Britt said.
“She’s been looking forward to this all day,” Robbie replied, a little tightly. He set the grocery bags on the counter, and Britt helped him unpack the ingredients while she looked around the room. The fridge was covered with drawings and paintings, a picture of Keira down by the lake, another on a barstool that Britt recognized from the inn.
She pulled her eyes back to the counter before she saw too much. There was bound to be a picture of Stephanie in here somewhere, after all, and even though she was Keira’s mother, and even though she was gone, it still felt awkward to think that Robbie had loved another woman.
Especially when she had never loved another man.
“So, what are we making?” Robbie asked, looking at her expectantly.
Her voice caught in her throat as she stared back at him. She had naively assumed that it would be just she and Keira baking tonight, that Robbie wasn’t interested, not just incapable. But now she saw the eager gleam in his eye and the hopeful expression on Keira’s face, and she realized that, of course, this would be a family event. Not that she was part of this family.
She wasn’t really part of any family. Not anymore.
“Well, I thought we could make some strawberries and cream cupcakes. It’s a recipe that my mom always used to make for my birthday each year, at my request, even though strawberries were out of season by then.” She didn’t know why she had volunteered that information, or even mentioned her mother, when normally it hurt too much to even think of her, but she’d settled on the recipe because it was the best one that she knew, and one of the only things she’d ever baked, once a year, in the kitchen alone with her mother. Their special time.
“That sounds delicious,” Robbie said, walking around the kitchen island to wash his hands at the sink.
She swallowed hard and forced a bright smile. “I brought enough to make a double batch, for my cousin’s birthday party tomorrow night.” Though she could only assume that Amelia would have most of the food covered, she didn’t want to show up empty-handed.
“It’s my birthday this weekend too!” Keira said excitedly as she clambered onto a stool. “We’re having a tea party this Saturday, with pink sparkly crowns, and I have a pink dress to wear, and Daddy said he will even put my hair in pigtails that aren’t lopsided.”
“Try to put your hair in pigtails that aren’t lopsided,” Robbie warned.
“Can you come?” Keira blinked up at her with big eyes, and Britt skirted a nervous glance in Robbie’s direction. He looked as caught off guard as she felt.
“Oh,” she said, wincing back at Keira. “I probably have to work on Saturday, honey.”
Keira’s expression immediately fell, but she nodded her head. “Okay.”
Britt looked at Robbie, who had shoved his hands into his pockets and was frowning pensively at his daughter.
“You’re welcome to stop by,” he suddenly said. “After work.”
She hadn’t planned on going to work, and he knew it, of course. Although, she might have done, if Candy got out one more tub of that ice cream and sang out to her father that she had something almost sweeter for him than candy…followed by her trill of laughter at her own joke.
Besides, the plans for the Cherry Festival were shaping up nicely. She was excited for the changes. She could go to work… But the thought of going to Keira’s party sounded like a lot more fun.
Keira looked at Britt hopefully. “Can you?”
Britt shared a small smile with Robbie, telling herself that he was just trying to keep his daughter happy, that there was absolutely nothing more to it than that.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” she said.
After all, she’d missed enough already.
*
The cupcakes were frosted and set up on a cooling rack, with strict instructions from Britt to pack them in the container she had provided, so they wouldn’t get smashed en route to school.
“Yes, Boss,” Robbie joked, even though the truth of it was that he probably would have done just that. The only plastic containers he owned were left over from the various casseroles that Natalie liked to drop off. He knew that he should probably give those back. That she was no doubt hoping that he would give them back. That it would give them another chance to talk, an opportunity for her to invite him in, and he didn’t want to go in. He didn’t want to get inside another woman’s world.
But that wasn’t the case with Britt, was it?
She was in his world right now. And she fit in nicely.
“It was nice of you to share that recipe,” he said as she tucked away the book she’d brought with her.
“It was nice making it,” Britt admitted. She gave him a little smile. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had any memories of the past. Tasting those cupcakes, well…it was almost like having her here, just for a moment.”
“Sort of like Maddie’s pies,” he said.
Britt tipped her head. “Thanks for reminding me. I haven’t had a moment alone with Maddie, and I’m hoping to discuss things with her tomorrow night at the party.”
“You really think those pies are the way to turn the business around?”
“I think it’s a step in the right direction,” Britt said. “We need to expand our product line. Either that, or cut down.”
His eyes flashed on her. “You mean let people go?”
She shrugged. “What other choice is there?”
He shook his head firmly. “Your father wouldn’t allow it.”
“My father is planning to retire. Whoever takes over that business will need to make some major changes, if anyone wants to buy it as it now stands.”
“Some of those people have been with the business for longer than you and I have been alive.”
“And I sincerely hope it doesn’t come to that!” Britt sighed and leaned against the counter. “Look, I’m not trying to upset you. I’m just trying to be practical and think of a way to increase profits.”
“At the risk of losing the heart of the business?” Robbie frowned. He saw Britt’s point, of course he did, but it just wasn’t that easy. This wasn’t Chicago, or a big city, where you didn’t know half the people you crossed on the street. Dory was a prime example of someone who was more than just a coworker. She had brought him a casserole every single Sunday for eight straight weeks when he and Keira first moved back to town.
“It’s like you said the other day at the café,” Britt said. “It’s business. Not personal.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I suppose it isn’t.” But he intended to make her see that it was.
Keira had gone upstairs to put on pajamas when they’d started cleaning up the mess, and now Robbie took the opportunity to make an excuse and leave the room to check on her. Somehow, it was almost easier with his daughter present, serving as a buffer, as a reminder of his role in life and the stance that he had taken. But the more he saw how engaged Keira was with Britt, how she lit up in her presence, and giggled a bit more than usual, how Britt seemed to interact with her with ease, the more he also grew uneasy, thinking of how impossible it would be protect his daughter, and that he wasn’t so sure he knew how to anymore.
Keira’s door was closed, and he could see light coming through the space underneath. He knocked quietly before turning the handle, releasing a sigh when he saw that she was already sound asleep, on top of her cover, curled up next to her favorite stuffed animal.
It was late, he knew, and the excitement had no doubt tired her out. Carefully he pulled down her pink and purple floral printed quilt and picked her up before placing her head down on her pillow. She stirred for a moment before murmuring, “Thank you, Daddy,” and he knew, by the littl
e smile on her mouth, that she wasn’t referring to being tucked in under a warm blanket.
She was referring to Britt. He’d invited her into his kitchen. Into his home. But was he really ready to invite her into his life? To break down the shell that she had put up, even though he’d already seen some cracks in her armor…especially when she was with Keira.
Britt was admiring a photo of Keira on the mantle when he came back down, unsure of what to do next until he saw her, standing in his home, a home he had never shared with Stephanie. A home that had felt so lonely so many nights at this hour, when Keira was asleep and the rooms felt too quiet, the space too empty, and there was nothing but the sound of the television or his thoughts to keep him company.
But tonight that wasn’t the case. And as much he didn’t want to admit it, he felt better than he had in a long time.
“Wine?” he asked, before he had time to process what came next.
Britt set the photo back in its place and nodded. “That would be nice. But just one. I’m driving.”
“I suppose you don’t drive much in the city,” he said as he reached for a bottle from the cabinet. For a moment, his hands hovered over the special bottles, the ones he hadn’t dared to open just yet, the ones he was saving, for what day he wasn’t sure exactly, and he took one of the orchard’s favorites instead, their best seller, and grabbed two glasses while he was at it.
“No, but when I’m on the road I do.” She took her glass from him after he’d filled it. “Do you ever miss city life?”
He thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. “No. Can’t say that I do. And not for the reasons that you think. Stephanie…” Here he caught her eye and paused. It felt strange discussing his wife with Britt.
When her expression didn’t waver, he dared to continue. “Stephanie liked the city. She was a costume designer, and it worked for her, professionally. We argued about it, the trade-offs of a commute versus a life in the burbs. Then, after…Well, I wrestled with it. I wanted to be sure I was doing what was best for Keira. She’d had enough change in her life, and I didn’t want to disrupt things further. Boston was the only home she had ever known.”
Britt nodded as they settled onto the sofa. It was new—he hadn’t wanted to keep too much of the furnishings from their apartment in Boston. It was easier that way, starting fresh.
Starting over.
“Keira seems happy here in town,” Britt said.
“She is. Being around my family, making friends, having a yard out back…”
Britt gave him a little smile. “I sense a hesitation.”
There was a hesitation. A big one. One that he hadn’t considered before, because it had been easier then, to put up a wall, to tell himself he was better off alone. Happier that way.
And then Britt had to waltz back into town. And into his life.
“I want what’s best for her,” he said. “I thought if we moved back to town, close to family, and got settled into a routine, that everything would be okay.”
“But?” Britt gave him a little smile.
He swallowed hard. “I told myself that Keira already had a mother. That she didn’t need a new female figure in her life.”
“Is that what’s best for her? Or best for you?” Britt asked, arching an eyebrow.
He grinned at her ruefully. “You sound like my mother.”
Or like someone who cared about him.
“Or…like a friend?” Her tone was teasing, but the look in her eyes said something deeper was behind her words. That maybe, she felt the same things that he did.
He leaned forward, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and in many ways, it was. This was Britt. Britt whom he chased through the orchard, and Britt whom he held in his arms. Britt whom he stood by on her hardest days, holding her hand, saying nothing. Britt whom he watched drive away in the back of her father’s car that hot summer day.
She was there. The same girl she had always been, but it seemed she was fighting that nearly as much as he was.
“Daddy?”
Robbie stiffened and pulled back, turning to see Keira in the doorway, rubbing her eyes.
“I can’t find Cocoa,” she said, referring to the stuffed toy which, sure enough, was flopped on the arm chair.
“I should go,” Britt said a little breathlessly, setting her wine glass on the coffee table.
He wanted to protest, but she was probably right. She should go, because if she stayed, he might do something he shouldn’t.
Like fall for Britt Conway all over again.
11
The sun that shone all day Friday, keeping Robbie out in the fields, rather than at his desk, was replaced with clouds and the threat of rain by the time Britt arrived on Amelia’s doorstep that night, suddenly wishing she had driven over rather than walked.
It had been a quiet day, and Britt had kept busy sifting through the rest of her father’s files, jotting down strategies for paying off the loan and giving them a financial cushion, even though none seemed like an ideal option. The Cherry Festival was the biggest opportunity they had, and without much time left, she went through her notes from her meeting with Robbie and made a secondary list of all the tasks they would need to delegate or be responsible for in order to make this event the success she intended it to be.
Still, as she read over the bullet points of all the little things that were needed to bring this festival together, from the ponies for the rides, to the face painters, to the buckets of cherry pits, and the band, she couldn’t help but think how much more fulfilling it had been to plan it with Robbie. She was used to this kind of solitude, even enjoyed it in the past, but today she found herself restless and lonely and looking very forward to the promise of some company tonight.
Now, she shifted the container of strawberries and cream cupcakes to one hand and knocked with the other. The door burst open seconds later, and Amelia’s cheeks were flushed as she ushered her inside.
“You beat the rain!” Amelia took one glance up at the sky before closing the door firmly. She walked purposefully down the narrow hall to the kitchen, where trays and platters of food were all set up. Through the opening to the living room, Britt could see candles set up on the coffee table, and bunches of balloons on either side of the hearth. “I had plans to set up the back deck, but looks like we’ll be indoors instead. Maddie’s starting a fire. You never know if a cold front will blow through.”
It was true that the evenings could be unexpectedly cool through June this far north, and the lake effect didn’t help matters. Another thing that Britt had failed to consider when she set out for the evening. At least Amelia would happily lend her a sweater. And an umbrella.
“This is a lovely home,” she said, taking in the small but cozy quarters.
“It’s not much,” Amelia said, but Britt could tell that she was pleased.
“It’s lovely,” Britt said again, venturing into the living room, and she meant it. Looking around, she saw the personal touches that reflected Amelia’s style and warm personality. There were cheerful throw pillows on the couch, and a cozy blanket in a soft shade of blue draped over the arm of the chair, a pedestal table at its side that held a stack of books, a lamp, and a picture frame of all of the sisters when they were younger.
She glanced at Maddie, who was just rolling back onto her heels and standing. “Hey, Maddie!” She grinned at her sister, who gave a tight smile in return.
Pushing away her frustration, she held out her container to Amelia. “Strawberries and cream cupcakes,” she said, because she knew that Amelia was curious. It wasn’t like Britt to bake, but she didn’t want to show up empty-handed. Besides, she assumed that, like all the Conway girls, Amelia wasn’t running short in the wine or cider department. One of the perks of being in the family business.
“Mom’s recipe.” Amelia smiled warmly, and if Britt didn’t know better, she might say those were tears shining in her stoic sister’s eyes. “I’ll go set these up on my
best tray.”
Maddie lingered behind, frowning slightly. Britt licked her bottom lip, bracing herself for whatever Maddie was about to say. She got it. She had stayed away. Not called enough. Not visited. She’d paid the least amount of attention to Maddie.
“And here I thought that you’d be mad at me for carrying on Mom’s recipes,” Maddie surprised her by saying.
Britt blinked at her sister. Of all the things she could have come up with, this revelation was not one of them.
“Mad at you?” She replayed that first night in the kitchen, and later, at the dining table, where they also listened to Candy’s stories while Maddie served the pie.
“You didn’t seem very happy about me serving the pie that first night back,” Maddie pointed out.
“You didn’t seem very happy to see me the moment I walked into the kitchen.”
“Because I was afraid of how you would react!” Maddie said, her eyes pleading, and for the first time since Britt had come back to town, she saw the emotion that her sister had been holding in all this time.
“I was…surprised,” Britt admitted. She reached out and took her sister’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “In a good way. I never thought I’d taste that pie again. For just one moment, it was like she was there in the room with us.” Instead of Candy, she thought darkly.
“But then at the market, you came straight up to me, asking all sorts of questions, like you were leading into something.”
Britt now saw how everything could have been misread, and she grinned knowingly, preparing herself to discuss her ideas for those pies, when there was a commotion in the hall and Amelia started calling out their names.
“Sounds like the birthday girl has arrived,” Britt sighed, giving her sister a knowing smile. There would be another chance to talk. Maybe not later tonight. But soon.
“So you’re not mad?” Maddie repeated, giving her a concerned look.
