A Gingerbread Romance

by Lacey Baker

  Table Of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  Gingerbread Cake With Lemon Butter Sauce

  About The Author

  Sneak Peak of An Unforgettable Christmas

  A Gingerbread Romance

  Copyright @ 2019 Lacey Baker

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereinafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Print ISBN: 978-1-947892-43-9

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-947892-58-3

  www.hallmarkpublishing.com

  For more about the movie visit:

  www.hallmarkchannel.com/a-gingerbread-romance

  Prologue

  Eight year-old Taylor Scott brushed small fingers over the soft fabric of her favorite red dress. Tears filled her eyes and the Christmas tree in front of her blurred. Her father had selected a great tree this year. It was taller than last year’s, and so wide her mother had to move one of the end tables into the dining room so it would fit in the corner.

  Taylor had hung most of the bulbs on the bottom half of the tree. Now, almost all of those were gone. She reached out to touch the only one that was still hanging. The white bulb that looked like it was frosted with snow was her favorite.

  “Come on, Taylor. We’re almost done packing,” her mother said. She lifted the final white bulb off the tree and folded it into a piece of tissue paper.

  Taylor was in awe of how her mother moved so gracefully in high-heeled shoes while carrying Taylor’s favorite bulb across the room. The moment that bulb was stuffed into a box and that box was sealed with thick tape, Taylor wanted to sigh. Today was moving day.

  Christmas was in one week, and instead of bubbling over with excitement for Santa’s appearance and all the gifts she might receive, Taylor fought back tears. She shouldn’t be sad. This wasn’t new. Her parents were very busy with very important jobs. So what if that meant they had to travel a lot? It was for a very important reason. Even if it was right before Christmas.

  Her mother closed the lid on the white box, and Taylor stared down at the word “Christmas” written in green marker.

  So they were really leaving. All the wishes she’d sent up, on everything from the evening star to tossing at least a dollar’s worth of pennies in the fountain at the mall, had been for nothing. The house was mostly packed. Everything in her room was boxed and waiting in the hallway for the movers to pick up.

  They would not be in this house tomorrow. They were going to Washington…or France, or it might have been Australia. It didn’t matter; they probably wouldn’t stay in the next place very long, either.

  Her steps were slow and heavy as she walked across the room to the mantel where her stocking was still hanging. She reached up and slipped it off the metal hook before carrying it to where her suitcase sat open on the coffee table. The memory of her mother folding clothes had her flipping the bottom half of the stocking up to meet the top and then stopping to rub her finger over the script letters that spelled her name. Her eyes blinked a few times. She was too old to cry. She slammed the top of the suitcase down and was about to zip it closed when she noticed her sketch pad, pencils, and crayons on the other side of the table. Taylor couldn’t go anywhere without them.

  Her latest picture wasn’t complete, and since her mother had left the room, she knelt down to finish it quickly before they had to leave. This picture was just like her dream, the one she’d had about her future. She’d drawn the house from that dream, the stockings hanging for Santa and the family—a mother, father and a little girl—who lived happily ever after. Something felt heavy in her chest and she shook her head, concentrating more on what the picture still needed, rather than the dream. More red. The little girl’s dress in the picture should be a deeper red, so she grabbed a crayon and pressed it harder to the paper.

  “Taylor. It’s time to go.”

  Hurrying to finish the dress and stay in the lines she’d drawn was tricky. But Mama was back in the room now, moving boxes, so she knew it was really time to leave. When the dress looked just the way she wanted it to, Taylor stuffed the crayons into a box and asked the question that had been weighing heavily on her mind.

  “Mama, what if Santa doesn’t find us this time?”

  Carolyn Scott, wearing one of the nice business skirt suits she always wore, knelt down until she was eye level with her.

  “Remember what I told you before our last move? Wherever you hang your stocking is where Santa will find you. And he did, didn’t he?”

  That was true. It was the year she’d received her first pair of ice skates. So she could believe her. Santa would find her in just a few days, and moving wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe this time they’d stay in the next place long enough for her to make friends. That way Santa wouldn’t always have to look for her stocking to find her; he would just remember her house.

  “Oh, let’s see today’s creation.” Her mother picked up the sketch pad, and that swishy feeling Taylor got in her stomach whenever somebody looked at her drawings began.

  The bright smile on her mother’s face as she set it back onto the table made Taylor smile, too.

  “Sweetheart, I think it’s your best yet!”

  Still grinning, she fell into her mother’s open arms and enjoyed the warm hug.

  “Hey gang, the airport limo is here!” her father called into the living room.

  Her mother pulled back from their hug. “So, you ready for our next adventure?”

  “You bet!” Mama was right: Santa would find her, just like he always did.

  She stood and put her sketch pad into her suitcase before grabbing her coat. In minutes, her parents had their coats on, too, and her father had zipped her suitcase. Taylor took the handle of the suitcase in one hand and walked beside her mother as they headed for the door.

  That heaviness was no longer weighing on her chest. Her mother’s smile and warm tone were reassuring. Maybe moving wasn’t going to be so bad, after all. Maybe their new house would be like the one in her drawing: the one that the family stayed in forever.

  Yeah, that’s what was going to happen. This move was going to be their last, and they’d live happily ever after.

  Chapter One

  Twenty Years Later

  Crisp winter air greeted Taylor the moment she stepped out of the taxi and onto the sidewalk. A line of juniper shrubs alongside it served as the fence to her end-unit townhouse. The wheels of her hard shell suit
case rolled across the ground and she looked up to the driver who’d removed her bag from the trunk.

  “Thank you,” she said. Even bone-tired, she managed to smile and sound cheerful.

  With a half bow and tip of his Santa Claus hat, he replied with a robust, “Merry Christmas!” and headed back to the car.

  Of course she didn’t want to seem lacking in holiday spirit, so Taylor called after him, “Merry Christmas!”

  There was a quick beep of the car’s horn and then the cab pulled away from the curb. Taylor turned to grab the handle of her suitcase. This was definitely familiar: dragging a suitcase behind her as she walked either to a destination or from one. Tonight, it was from: her four-and-a-half month assignment was complete, and she was returning to her company’s home base in Philadelphia.

  After being with Ogilvy & Associates Architecture for seven years, Taylor figured it made sense to purchase a house here. At least that way, she had a familiar place to stay in between assignments. And she absolutely loved the upscale Northern Liberties neighborhood, conveniently located ten minutes from her office downtown. It was the closest she’d managed to settling down in one place. While she probably didn’t sleep in the queen-sized bed in her large master bedroom more than ten times out of the year, her name was still on the deed, and owning the property gave her a deeper sense of meeting some of the goals she’d planned for her life.

  At the moment, however, having this house was also a good thing because her feet were begging for mercy. She still wore the leopard-print pumps and navy suit she’d put on for her last meeting. There hadn’t been time to change before she’d needed to be at the airport, so not only had she just taken a seven-hour flight which included a three-hour time difference, but her toes were screaming to be set free.

  As she walked up to the front door, Taylor couldn’t help admiring her neighbor’s endless strands of multi-colored twinkle lights and the cartoon Christmas family statutes adorning the yard. It had obviously snowed recently because the lawn was covered in a blanket of white, giving the statues a perfect winter wonderland backdrop. Her keys jingled as she pulled them out of her bag.

  “Hey, stranger!”

  Taylor jumped and almost dropped her keys as Wendy—one of the two friends she had, who also happened to be her neighbor—popped up from behind the bushes. It appeared she was stringing more lights.

  With a wave, Taylor stepped away from the door. “Hi, Wendy.”

  “Merry Christmas. How was Tucson? Or was it Seattle? I’m sorry—with all the kids’ activities and dates to remember, I don’t know if I’m coming or going. But I did remember to grab all your mail from the box and any packages that came.” Wendy was married to an advertising executive and had two children, a boy and a girl: the perfect pair.

  She helped out tremendously when Taylor was away by keeping her up to date with all the drama from their home owners’ association meetings and directing the landscaper to take care of her lawn.

  “It was L.A. this time…I think,” Taylor joked. “And thanks, I appreciate your help.”

  “Girl, don’t worry about it. So you’re in town for Christmas?” Wendy clapped her hands together hopefully. “You’ve got to come by.”

  Taylor had enjoyed a cookout and birthday party with Wendy and her family, but never a Christmas. A long time ago, that day had been designated for spending time with her parents. And once she’d become an adult, they’d tried to keep the tradition of celebrating together wherever they were in the world.

  But lately, their schedules wouldn’t even accommodate that. Case in point: Taylor couldn’t travel to meet her parents this year because she had to return to Philly for a big meeting with her supervisor. A meeting she hoped would result in the promotion she’d been dreaming about.

  “Um, I’m not sure yet, but I should know soon. And thanks for the offer.”

  “The standing offer,” Wendy corrected. “Go on in and put your things down. As soon as I finish with this, I’ll grab your mail and bring it over.”

  “Great. Thanks again, Wendy.”

  Taylor unlocked the door and rolled her bag into the foyer. She switched on the lights and sighed while stepping out of her shoes. In a few minutes, she’d carry them and her luggage up the stairs. She took her laptop to the dining room table and turned it on. She left it there because, right now, she really wanted to reacquaint herself with the place. Maybe it was silly, but for some reason she’d thought a lot about getting back here in the last couple of weeks, and now she had an urge to make sure it was everything she’d recalled.

  It was. The clean, yet warm contemporary design of her personal space was a huge contrast from the bland corporate penthouse where she’d stayed while in L.A. Or anywhere else she’d been on business.

  The artwork she’d selected during an impromptu trip to a gallery show hung in thick cherry wood frames on the wall. She’d been so impressed by the local up-and-coming artist that she’d purchased three of his portraits, which captured African-American families at different gatherings—Sunday morning church service, first day of school and a holiday dinner. Her fingers moved easily over the soft, bark-brown leather of the couch while she continued to stare at those paintings.

  Growling from her stomach that sounded more painful than it actually felt echoed in the quiet room, and she frowned before heading to the kitchen. Her feet moved quietly over the glossy hardwood floors of the living room and onto the cool gray tile of the kitchen where she immediately opened the refrigerator.

  “Well, that’s helpful.”

  A lone bottle of water graced the top shelf, and as if in response to her blasé comment, her stomach grumbled again.

  She grabbed the bottle just as there was a knock at the door. Wendy really didn’t have to bring the mail to her tonight, but it was just as well; that way, Taylor could go straight to the office tomorrow morning.

  “It’s a lot.” Wendy came through the door carrying a medium-sized box in one hand and two packages under the other arm.

  “I see. Here, let me take that. You can set the box on the dining room table and I’ll go through it later.” Taylor grabbed the packages from under her arms, looking down at the return address as they walked into the dining room.

  “Oh! This is from my parents.” Giddiness bubbled inside Taylor as she tore into the first box.

  “What is it? Your Christmas gift?”

  “My Advent calendar,” she announced after tearing off all the paper. “My mom makes sure to send me one every year.” And this year, Taylor was so hungry she opened it and took out the first piece of chocolate.

  Wendy chuckled. “Yeah, I thought you’d be hungry, and it’s too late at night for you to be ordering food from any of those menus you have stuffed over there in your drawer. So I brought you some leftover spaghetti.”

  Taylor was already chewing the chocolate and reaching for another piece when she groaned. “Oh, Wendy, you are the best!”

  That was the truth. In all her travels as a child, Taylor hadn’t been able to form many connections with girls her age. The bond she’d formed with Wendy had started as cordial and eventually turned into a real friendship.

  Wendy pushed the box of mail closer to Taylor and went into the kitchen to set the bowl on the counter. The first level of Taylor’s house had an open floor plan, so Wendy could still see and talk to her even though she was in another room.

  “I’m just used to preparing three meals a day, and you’re not used to grocery shopping on a regular basis. We match up well that way.”

  Taylor skimmed through some of the mail. “You’re absolutely right. I’ve got to get better at basic things like that.”

  “Well, you could if you’d stay in one place long enough,” Wendy said and then chuckled. “I know, I know what you’re gonna say. But as your friend and neighbor whose kids would love to come over here for sleepovers and birthday part
ies too, I’m just tossing these things out there: get married, have some kids. They’re wonderful at settling you down immediately and encouraging scheduled and unscheduled grocery store outings.”

  Taylor’s first response was a grin because Wendy was always trying to get her to join the Mommy club. But Taylor was a realist.

  “You know that’s not in the cards for me right now. I’m still trying to get settled in my career.”

  “You’re twenty-eight years old and a senior architect or something like that at one of the city’s largest firms. How much more settled in your career can you be?”

  That was a good question…with an even better answer.

  “I’m a senior project manager, but my goal is to become a department head at Ogilvy. Hopefully in the international department. And I think I’m really close to claiming that. So to answer your question, I’ve got a little more settling to do.”

  Wendy was nodding as if she’d heard all this before. “Yeah, I know. And hey, you’re entitled to your own dream. I’m probably just projecting, anyway, since my kids drive me crazy a good percentage of the time. But I wouldn’t change a thing. For me, my family is my dream.”

  Those words replaced the giddiness Taylor had been feeling with a heaviness. Maybe it was just because she was tired and hungry. After Wendy had gone, she continued to stack her mail in organized piles and took the box over to the trash can. She knew she should warm up some of that spaghetti, but she was really tired. A hot bath to soak her feet and every other aching muscle in her body would help lift her spirits.

  Her laptop buzzed. Taylor pulled out a chair, sat at the dining room table, and pushed a button on the screen to accept the incoming Skype call from her mother. Then she grabbed a couple more pieces of chocolate from the Advent calendar.

  “Hi, Mom,” she said when Carolyn Scott’s face came into view on the screen.

  “Taylor, sweetheart. I hope it’s not too late, but I wanted to catch you before we went to breakfast.”

  It would never be too late to talk to her parents. Since they always seemed to be in different time zones, Taylor looked forward to anytime they could link up. She missed them so much, especially around this time of year.