Just Desserts (Main Street Merchants Book 4)

by Amelia C. Adams

  A glance around told her that the shop was a disaster. The front of the display case was a solid mass of fingerprints and nose smudges—when you’re four, like many of her customers were, it’s hard to choose a cookie without studying it out carefully, usually as close to the cookies as you can get. Quinn hoisted herself up and grabbed a towel and squirt bottle, ready to attack the mess.

  A tap on the door pulled her attention, though.

  Jonah stood on the other side.

  “I know I’m an hour early, but I ran out of things to do at the art gallery, and I thought I could hang out here instead of going home and then heading back. Is that all right?”

  Quinn let him in. “You’re a terrible liar.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Worse. Why are you really here?”

  Jonah looked a little embarrassed. “Well, every time I drove by today, I saw a ton of people here, and I thought you might like a little help cleaning up after such a long day.”

  “You kept driving by?”

  “Yeah, I had to run a bunch of errands. You looked totally swamped.”

  Quinn tucked a lock of hair back in her ponytail. “It really was a crazy day.”

  Jonah took the towel and squirt bottle from her hands. She hadn’t realized she was still holding them. “Let me do the glass,” he said. “I’ve got make sure you treat that window right—I worked hard on it.”

  “When did you take the wooden supports down?” she asked. “I noticed they were gone when I got here this morning.”

  He shrugged with one shoulder as he crossed the room. “I took them down when I came in to work this morning.”

  “I was here at four.”

  He shrugged again. “I was at the gallery a little before then.”

  Quinn shook her head. This guy was something else.

  By the time the ladies showed up for class, everything looked really nice, and Quinn felt like she could move forward without distractions. She hadn’t counted on the distraction Jonah would be, though.

  “We missed you last week,” Helen said with a little pout.

  “It’s definitely boring around here with just us biddies,” Melba chimed in.

  “So where were you?” Helen asked.

  Quinn turned away, her face warming up. Jonah had every right to tell the class what had happened. She’d kicked him out, plain and simple—it was strange to realize that had just been the other day. So much had happened since then—so much that was life-changing for so many people. She knew her altercation with Jonah was in her past, but she deserved whatever he told the ladies.

  “I had something else I needed to do. But I’m back now, and I say, let’s decorate some cakes.”

  The ladies chattered their way over to the hand-washing sink, Jonah in the middle of the throng, and Quinn blinked a few times. He’d just diffused the entire situation with a few well-placed words. She didn’t know if she would have been so gracious in his shoes.

  Everyone had just taken their seats and were looking at Quinn expectantly when the shop’s phone rang. She ignored it—she never answered the phone after closing time. But then her cell phone rang, and a feeling in her gut told her that it wasn’t a coincidence. She excused herself and pulled the phone from her pocket.

  “Quinn, it’s Maggie. Is Marco down there?”

  Quinn could tell that Maggie was trying to stay calm, but her voice did carry a slight tremor. “I haven’t seen him.” She moved to the front door and opened it, looking up and down the sidewalk. There was no sign of him.

  “I’m so embarrassed,” Maggie said. “I fell asleep on the couch. I was so exhausted, I thought I could just close my eyes for a minute while he watched his favorite game shows. He loves solving the puzzles before the contestants. He always said he should go on one of those programs and win enough money to buy me a new house. That would have been nice.” She gulped. “Anyway, I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, he was gone. I’ve looked all over the house, thinking that maybe he went to bed or got in the shower, but he’s not here.”

  Quinn stepped back into the bakery. “It’s all right, Maggie. I’m on my way.”

  “But don’t you have your class?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Quinn flipped her phone closed. “I’m sorry, everyone, but I need to postpone tonight’s lesson.”

  “What’s the matter?” Melba asked.

  “It’s . . . just a little emergency. It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

  “What if there’s something we can do to help?” Kathy asked.

  Quinn glanced over at Jonah. His eyes were crinkled with concern.

  She sighed. Which was more important—maintaining confidentiality, or maybe getting some help? When she put it to herself that way, there really wasn’t much choice to the matter.

  “Mr. D’Angelo has gone missing, and his wife needs help looking for him.”

  “Oh, no,” Kathy said.

  “Does this have anything to do with the car that went through your front window the other day?” ReAnne asked, her first verbal contribution since she’d arrived.

  “Let’s just say that it’s been a hard week.”

  “Well, what can we do?” Melba asked. “Does he have any favorite places we could go check?”

  Within a matter of seconds, the ladies were throwing out ideas, and Melba pulled a little notebook from her pocket. ReAnne made assignments, Melba wrote them down, and the ladies bustled out the door after making sure they all had Quinn’s cell phone number so they could check in with reports.

  “Wow,” Quinn said, watching as they left. “That was amazing.”

  “It was.” Jonah nodded. “Now, where do you want me to look?”

  She knew better than to tell him he could just go home—if he’d proven anything about himself, it was that he was a doer. He was also strangely invested in this bakery, and she knew it—as soon as she’d asked for help, she’d known he would be there for whatever she needed. “Would you come over to the D’Angelos’ house with me? I think we should start in their neighborhood and work out from there.”

  “Done.”

  They each took their own cars so they could divide and conquer once they got there, but they began by meeting up at the house so they could talk to Maggie.

  “His shoes are missing and his slippers are here, so at least he’s got something decent on his feet,” Maggie said. “And I’m glad it’s not dark yet. It will be easier to find him, right?”

  “Definitely,” Quinn said. She wrapped her arm around Maggie’s shoulders and led her to a chair. “Have you called your children?”

  “I have, and they’re on their way. I don’t know exactly when they’ll get here, though. I mean, traffic and whatnot . . .”

  “I’m sure they’ll get here as fast as they can.” Quinn glanced at the clock. “Have you eaten dinner?”

  “No. I was going to make some soup and sandwiches after Marco’s shows.” Maggie’s hand flew to her mouth. “He’s out there without his dinner. He must be so hungry.”

  “We’ll find him.” Quinn spoke firmly, hoping that her belief would become reality.

  She made a sandwich and saw to it that Maggie was eating, and then she and Jonah headed outside.

  “Let’s work outward from the house. I’ll work out to the north and west, if you’ll take south and east,” Jonah suggested.

  They got into their cars and drove in opposite directions. Quinn echoed Maggie’s thanks that it wasn’t dark yet, but it would be soon, and this close to the mountains, the temperature dropped once the sun went down.

  Quinn drove slowly up and down each street, but she didn’t see Mr. D anywhere. She returned to the house to find Jonah on the porch of the house next door, chatting with a neighbor. She could have kicked herself—checking in with the neighbors should have been the first thing they did.

  “Nothing to report,” he said when he met her on the D’Angelos’ lawn.

  “How many neighbors have you spoken wi
th?” she asked.

  “Just the one so far.”

  They split the remaining houses on the street between them, but neither had any success.

  Tony, the D’Angelos’ son, had arrived by now, and he was inside sitting with Maggie when Quinn and Jonah came back to report.

  “None of the ladies from my class have seen him,” Quinn told Maggie gently, sitting down next to her on the old floral sofa. “We’re not giving up, though.”

  “The police should be here in a few minutes,” Tony said, a grim look on his face. “Mom, we need to talk about this. Dad’s just not doing well, and you’re worn out.”

  “I know, I know,” Maggie said impatiently. “I’ve been lecturing myself for the last hour.” She sighed. “I just thought he would have gone to the shop. That’s his favorite place in the world.”

  Quinn’s memory suddenly nagged at her, and she felt like an idiot. “I’ll be right back,” she said, darting out the door.

  “Where are you going?” Jonah called after her as she raced across the lawn.

  “Back to the shop.”

  He jumped in beside her, and she barely took the time to click her seatbelt before she sped down the street.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it,” she said, pounding one hand on the steering wheel.

  “Think of what?”

  “I heard a noise in the storeroom right before you got to the bakery tonight. I didn’t think anything of it—I thought it was a bag of flour sliding off a stack. I bet it was Mr. D.”

  Quinn was in such a hurry, her hands shook as she fumbled with the bakery door keys. Jonah reached for them. “May I?” She gave them over willingly, thankful he was so calm.

  He unlocked the door, and Quinn flipped on the light before heading over to the storeroom. “Mr. D?” she called out as she stepped into the dark area. The faint beam cast by the light in the front allowed her to see the switch and she flipped it, the dim bulb only making a slight difference. She’d never been in here at night before, and the large windows had always illuminated whatever she’d needed to see. “Mr. D?” she tried again.

  “I’m back here, Quinn,” he said, his voice sounding tired.

  Quinn tossed her phone to Jonah. “Call Maggie,” she said before she headed to the left of the storage area. Mr. D sat on some boxes of salt arranged on a pallet in the corner. They’d gotten a great deal on their bulk purchase, and apparently, it made for decent furniture, too. “Hey,” she said, walking up to him. “We’ve been looking for you.”

  He nodded, and she noticed that while his fatigue was obvious in the way he sat, his eyes were bright. “I’m an old man, Quinn.”

  “Oh, come on. You’re not that old.”

  He shook his head. “I’m serious. I’m an old man, and it’s time for me to realize it. One minute, I’m sitting there in the living room with Maggie, and the next minute, I’m here. I don’t know how I got here, or why.”

  Quinn crouched down in front of him and put her hand on his knee. “It’s okay, Mr. D. Maggie will be here soon.”

  The look on his face tore her apart. “Tony wants her to place me in a nursing home, but she’s fought it for a long time. I fought it too. But maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s time for me to go.”

  Quinn couldn’t form a reply to that. She felt tears gathering and blinked them away, trying to look brave. She wished there was another way, that Tony would take him in or that the D’Angelos could afford some kind of live-in help. But these weren’t her decisions to make, and the nursing home here in Aspen Ridge was one of the nicest she’d ever seen. This wouldn’t be an awful thing—except that it would be.

  Jonah stepped around the shelving unit, handed Quinn her phone, and smiled. “Hey, Mr. D’Angelo. Your wife says she’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  “That’s good.” Mr. D reached out and shook Jonah’s hand. “Are you the young man who fixed the front window?”

  “Yep, that was me.”

  “You did a good job.” Mr. D nodded slowly. “A very good job.” Then he retreated into himself and didn’t say anything else.

  Minutes later, he was reunited with Maggie and Tony, and Quinn and Jonah retreated to the front of the bakery to give the family their privacy. “Wow,” Quinn said, sinking onto one of the wrought-iron chairs while Jonah took another. “That was rough. Thanks for helping—oh, I need to let everyone else know too.”

  She reached for her phone, but Jonah held up his hand. “I called them after I talked to Maggie. They all know.”

  “Thanks.” She leaned forward and rested her forehead on her hands. “I can honestly say that I’ve never been so scared in my whole life.”

  “You’re close to the D’Angelos.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “I’ve never been closer to anyone, except my own family.” Quinn lifted her head and glanced around the shop, at the shelves and baskets and pictures on the walls, at the display case and cash register. “This place feels more like my home than my own apartment. I should just put a cot in the office and save money on rent.”

  Maggie and Tony emerged from the storeroom, Mr. D following them out. He looked sunken inside himself, a prune.

  “We’re going to take him home,” Maggie said, giving Quinn a wan smile. “I think we’ll stop at the diner for some takeout, though—I know I could use some pie.”

  “That sounds great.” Quinn stood up and wrapped her arms around Maggie’s shoulders. “You call me if you need anything,” she said into Maggie’s ear. “I mean that—day or night.”

  “I will.” Maggie returned Quinn’s squeeze. “Thanks again.”

  Quinn watched the D’Angelos walk out through the front door. Mr. D paused for a moment and rested his hand on the doorframe, turning and looking around the bakery much as Quinn had a moment before. His face bore a look of farewell, as though he had no intention of ever coming back. She held the smile on her face until he closed the door behind him, and then the tears started to fall.

  She’d forgotten Jonah was there until he handed her a napkin from the dispenser. She wiped her eyes and cheeks, then turned a little to wipe her nose. She hated wiping her nose in front of people.

  “Thanks,” she said when she felt a little more presentable. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me—seems like I’m bursting into tears every five minutes these days.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure you’re just a big bawl baby.” Jonah grinned. “You’ll be all right, Quinn. You don’t strike me as the giving-up type.”

  “No, I’m definitely not. This has just been a pretty rough couple of weeks.” Quinn glanced at the clock. “I’d better get home—morning comes early around these parts. Let’s go get your car.”

  “It’s okay. I can walk back.”

  Quinn raised an eyebrow. “This whole knight-in-shining-armor thing is great and all, but it can be taken too far. Come on—we’re going.”

  Jonah laughed. “All right, all right. Sheesh. Twist my arm.”

  As they drove back out to the D’Angelos’, Quinn asked, “So, you never did tell me more about that wiring issue at the gallery.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jonah make a face. “Yeah, that. Whoever built that place should be hunted down and shot. The electrical work was completely illegal—spliced wires all over the place, bad materials, you name it. I’m surprised the building didn’t burn down years ago.”

  “Oh, no. Hard to fix?”

  “Not hard, but time-consuming. We brought in another guy to help out so we can still open on schedule. Bryce is pretty stressed.”

  “I bet he is.”

  “Alex just keeps cheering everyone on, insisting we can do it. I think that guy takes a happy pill every morning or something.”

  “He did tell me he’s more of the dreamer type.”

  Jonah adjusted his seatbelt across his chest and settled in a little more comfortably. “He is, but not in a bad way. I’d say he’s more of a visionary.”

  “Is it possible to be a
dreamer in a bad way?”

  “Yes, when it costs a lot of money.”

  Quinn chuckled and turned the car onto the D’Angelos’ street. “I bet they’ll be having quite the family meeting,” she said, nodding toward the house.

  “I don’t envy them. Hey, thanks for the ride.” Jonah unbuckled his seatbelt as Quinn pulled the car to a stop.

  “And thank you for all your help.”

  Jonah looked like he’d just brushed her thanks aside, so she held up her hand. “I’m serious. Thank you.”

  He met her gaze for a long moment. “You’re welcome.” Then he climbed out of the car, and Quinn wondered, not for the first time, who this guy was.

  Chapter Eight

  “Hey, Quinn, I think I’ve got it.”

  Quinn wiped her hands on a towel and walked across the kitchen to the ovens, where Kenny was waiting for her with a big grin on his face. “Taste this,” he said, handing her a slice of bread.

  She bit into it and grinned as the flavors exploded on her tongue. “This is fantastic. What did you do differently?”

  “Well, you know how I was trying to get the rosemary right? Well, I kept adding more rosemary, and it just wasn’t working. So finally I thought, salt. Salt would perk up the rosemary that’s already in there. So I added another cup of salt to the batch, and boom! Here ya go—the perfect rosemary olive oil bread.”

  “It really is perfect. In fact, I want the rest of this loaf.” She snatched it from his hands and laughed at his look of surprise. “Hey, I’m hungry. Consider it a compliment.”

  “Well, I was going to cut it up for samples out front, but okay.” Kenny turned back to the oven and bagged up the other loaves. This was why Quinn was so glad he was on board—she’d been so distracted lately, salt hadn’t even entered her mind, even though she knew he was struggling to perfect his recipe. He had what it took to persevere even after several failed attempts.

  She decided to take a break and sit down to enjoy more of her pilfered bread. She grabbed some butter from the cooler and settled onto the stool in the corner, enjoying the quiet of the bakery before it opened. Last night had taken a lot out of her, but sitting here now, listening to the timers on the various ovens counting down the remaining minutes and the hum of the large stand mixer, she felt soothed and comforted. Somehow or another, everything would be okay. She had to believe that.