A Gingerbread Romance

by Lacey Baker

  “I don’t want another job, Ma.” Angie turned from where she stood on the threshold. “‘That man’ is my boss. And in many ways, he’s a good one.”

  “Ha!”

  “I mean it,” Angie insisted. “He pays me well, and the hours aren’t bad.” She winced at her amendment. “Normally.”

  “Maybe if you explained you have a family—”

  “I can’t risk being unprofessional,” she countered. “Not with so much at stake.” Her gaze flitted to the refrigerator crowded with magnets and a combination of Pepe and Alma’s artwork. Pepe’s latest report card hung there, too, and he’d received very high marks. They were all settling in here. What’s more, Pepe was thriving.

  “Besides, Sam’s not really that awful. Not really. Not once you get to know him.” Angie shrugged. “He has potential! You know, like a diamond in the rough.”

  Elena studied her daughter and then her tone took on a teasing lilt. “And just who do you suppose will do the shaping and polishing? You?”

  Angie blushed hotly. “Me? No! That’s…that’s not how I look at Sam. He’s my employer. I wouldn’t dream of—” She paused and drew in a breath, surveying Elena. “Just what are you hinting at?”

  Elena’s mouth dropped open. “I can’t believe it. You actually like him.”

  “Of course I like him. As a person. In a way,” Angie stammered. “The way any person would like another individual. Person to person. Not that we’re really that personal with each other. Sam and I, I mean.”

  Elena’s eyebrows arched and she got that sage look in her eyes. “You never mentioned that he’s handsome.”

  “I’m not saying that now,” Angie added, feeling weirdly caught out. Naturally, she’d noticed Sam’s good looks. Who wouldn’t? The guy was tall and built, with short, dark hair and deep blue eyes.

  That only made Angie observant, not interested. The thought of adding one more item to her already crammed to-do list, like becoming romantically involved with someone, frankly made her exhausted.

  She added, “It’s not like that, okay?”

  Even if she had had time for dating these days, which she didn’t, she clearly wouldn’t entertain notions of going out with Sam. He was her boss, for goodness’ sake.

  And no matter how Angie defended him to her mom, Sam was also a little stuffy. Although he was just three years older than she was, with his firmly set jaw and that determined stance, Sam gave the impression of being much older.

  Angie couldn’t begin to imagine him on a date. The man appeared to have absolutely zero interest in fun, which was fine with Angie. She wasn’t angling to have fun with Sam, anyhow.

  “Anyway, I’ve got to go!” Angie tugged the door open, shaking off Elena’s weird suggestion. Me and Sam. Ha, ha. Not happening. Then, she scurried down the stairs and out into the blustery cold.

  Sam Singleton strolled down the sidewalk through the drifting snow, the crisp morning air adding an extra spring to his step. Holiday garlands circled the lampposts lining the road and each held an green pennant, decorated with holly sprigs and joyfully welcoming folks to Hopedale, Virginia. On each pennant, two fluttering white doves held an unfurled banner in their beaks showcasing the town’s motto: Where love springs eternal. This was partially in reference to the thermal springs in the nearby Hopedale Valley Springs Ski Resort. The slogan was also meant to inspire greater business among couples visiting the area on romantic getaways.

  When the Hopedale Chamber of Commerce first proposed the new motto, Sam had privately considered it hokey. Nonetheless, he’d grasped its marketing potential. Since love and the sale of elegant diamond engagement rings went hand in hand, Sam had been among the first to vote in favor of the change from the old town saying: Home of the Hopedale Honey Bee.

  Sam ambled along, passing shuttered storefronts. Only the Main Street Market had its interior lights on. He could see a few folks milling about through its big front window. The quaint grocers had a café section selling fresh-baked breads, muffins, and pastries, and offering an assortment of imported coffees to early birds. Mostly, those patrons were individuals like him: people with jobs downtown who were on their way into work. Sam prided himself on being the first to arrive at work each day and the last to leave in the evening. Although his staff was small, as the boss, it was fitting for him to set the example.

  He crossed the street at the corner before reaching Harris Hardware. Pete Harris’s granddaughter, Hannah, ran it now. She took over the place right around the time Sam’s dad, David, retired from his long career as a clerk there. David had never aspired to a higher education than high school. He’d reserved ambition for his one and only child, Sam. Precisely why Sam had been shipped off to Ashton Academy as a boy. Those were times he preferred not to think about. What Sam enjoyed was focusing on his current goals, including his typical checkerboard trajectory to work. This customary path gave him a keen appreciation for all of Hopedale, a quaint Blue Ridge Mountain town with a high walkability score.

  One could live quite well here and accomplish most daily errands getting around on foot. He did just that, as he lived in a cool condo complex beyond the historic area. Local residents had kicked up a fuss when the sleek five-story chrome and glass building had gone in, but he truly hadn’t understood what the hubbub was about. The building was eco-friendly with many green initiatives in place, such as solar panels on its roof, and it didn’t stand out all that much against the thicket of woods it bordered.

  Sam traversed Main Street again before reaching the library. The red brick building with a low tin roof had been fashioned from the small train depot, which was once operational in town back in the day when westbound passenger trains still stopped there. The cozy reading area inside, comprised of a semicircular stack of carpeted steps, was positioned by a plate-glass window overlooking the tracks. When Sam was small, his dad used to take him there sometimes to pick out books and watch the trains rumble by. That was all before Ashton, when he got too grown-up for train watching anyway.

  Sam passed the post office and tamped down his hat, hunching his shoulders against the wind. He hoped the weather wouldn’t deter shoppers today and, as he drew nearer, he saw he had no worries. A healthy crowd had gathered outside Singleton’s Jewelers with its impressive front window display and that stunning marque hanging overhead. Sam loved the way the dot in the letter “i” in Singleton’s was shaped like a glistening diamond.

  His new television commercials advertising Sam’s Signature Diamond Collection were doing especially well. A Singleton’s Signature Diamond Says Forever. Sam grinned to himself, envisioning the way that line rolled across the television screen: stylized gold font shimmering against a darkened background, with the diamond-shaped dot of the “i” in Singleton’s giving a little twinkle. He and his advertising director had designed a total of five ads, each one featuring a touching marriage proposal.

  He’d requested Angie’s input on that, since he had very little idea what women considered romantic. His past relationships had been companionable rather than affectionate, as neither he nor his former partners had entertained much interest in forming a bond that was too deep. His last girlfriend, Rebecca, was a banker and no-nonsense like Sam. When they’d broken up due to her job transfer out of state, neither one had shed a tear.

  Sam approached the crowd gathered outside his shop, giving a cheery wave. “Morning, folks! Thanks for coming out.”

  People nodded and smiled, taking cover from the pelting snow under open umbrellas. Sam gauged the crowd to number roughly thirty individuals, and he was encouraged to see so many eager shoppers anticipating the store’s opening. This could be his most profitable sales event—ever.

  He grinned at the expectant faces as he edged his way through the crowd. Sam recognized several patrons as regulars, but there were newcomers as well. There was a time when he knew almost everyone in Hopedale by name. Then, the fancy
ski resort had gone in nearby, and the tiny mountain town had boomed. Not just during tourist season, either. People were discovering what Hopedale’s residents had known all along: This was the ideal, picturesque place to settle down and raise a family. The excellent reputation of the school district served as an additional draw. Due to Hopedale’s fine medical facility and its adjacent hospital, retirees were discovering Hopedale, too. All this growth had been good for business. Sam’s business, in particular. He’d had to hire an additional sales associate just last week.

  Sam stood under the awning outside his shop’s front door and slid his key into the lock as happy anticipation skittered through him. He could just feel it. Today was going to be a memorable day.

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