by Laura Brown
Hannah and I were silent as the new information sunk in. Mom and Dad hadn’t fought much. They were the cold-shoulder type to each other. But never would I have guessed the fire had been connected. All of this led back to that asshole. I should have figured out where he lived, so I could grab Carter and go beat the crap out of him.
“Jake, you look like you’re going to break the molding.”
I took a breath and released my grip from the doorframe. “Sorry. Thinking about Dad.” I should have told them he was here, snooping around, intruding on random soccer games. But I needed to protect them. I took on that role when he left, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to stop now. They didn’t need to go through the emotional turmoil of seeing him. Not until I had a better grip on what the man wanted.
Mom sighed. “It’s been over twenty years. Holding onto anger doesn’t help anyone.”
Hannah straightened. “Right back at you. It’s been over twenty years. It’s time to go away. It’s not like Dad’s sniffing around and about to pop back in and set another fire.”
I dug my nails into the palms of my hands and did my best not to react. He wouldn’t cause any problems. I’d make sure of that.
“It’ll be good for you,” I said. “And you know damn well we’re not going to rest until you do this.”
Mom leaned back. “I did raise you two as stubborn as me. If I go on this one trip, will I be immune from further discussions like this?”
Hannah and I exchanged a glance.
“You’ll get another year or so,” I said.
Mom laughed. “Oh, is that all?”
“And that’s Jake being nice,” Hannah said.
I left Hannah working out details to capture Mom in a plan she couldn’t back out of. On instinct, I scanned the front area, half expecting to see my father making an unwelcome appearance. It was empty. And I was going to drive myself into a rage if I kept this up. I snuck out back and pulled out my phone. Carter answered on the second ring.
“I need a favor.” I kept my eyes on the back door, making sure the people inside wouldn’t overhear me. Any of them.
“That sounds ominous. Is this a bury a dead body or hide the engagement ring sort of favor?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m not in the market for a ring.”
“Shame. Avery’s a catch. Should I make a move?”
“Over my dead body.”
“So it is a bury the dead body favor.”
I grunted and paced. “You finished?”
He laughed. “Sure. What’s up?”
“I need you to scope out the area around the park.”
“Why? Find a lost puppy?”
More like a bulldog. “My father caught us playing.”
Carter’s laughing voice faded. “You fucking kidding me?”
“I’m afraid not. I don’t want that asshole poking around the bakery or any of my family. He was out for a walk. He lives close to there.”
“So you want to do a stakeout?”
“You used to do that all the time when you were fawning over Naomi.”
“I was a stupid teenager.”
“And now those skills will come in handy. Just do what you can. I don’t trust him.”
“Okay, I’ll see what I can figure out for you.”
I took a breath. “Thank you.”
I put the phone into my pocket, some of the tension fading. At least I had Carter to keep an extra eye on my family, even if he couldn’t track down Dad.
“Were you really going to leave without saying goodbye?”
I started at Avery’s voice. She stood by the closed bakery door, in only her short-sleeved shirt, khaki pants, and apron.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long.”
“What did you hear?”
Her eyebrows lowered. “Since when do I hear things?”
I shook my head. “Sorry, still trying to get used to the Mom and Kirk thing.”
Not what I should have said. But mentioning my dad to Carter was hard enough. Avery didn’t need this shit as well.
“Maybe food will help.” She held out a brown paper bag.
I took it. “What’s this?”
“Lunch. You always forget, and if you’re here, then you’re missing time you could be eating. Maybe if you ate better, you wouldn’t be so paranoid.”
I caught the concern in her eyes and felt like a prick. The other night I’d canceled on her and now she made sure I had lunch. I didn’t deserve her. I gave her a kiss. “Thank you.”
She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me again. Her vanilla scent swirled around and, for the first time since I saw Dad, I truly relaxed.
“There you are. Now eat and get back to work.” She released my neck and slapped my backside.
“Who let Wrong Number out?”
Her eyes turned into a heat-seeking missile. “You did.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Avery
The heat of the oven enveloped my already sweaty body as I placed a batch of marble cupcakes in the oven. I wiped the back of my palm against my forehead and set my timer, grateful on busy days like this I let Jake cut my hair. No more flyaways and a nice breeze hit the back of my neck. When I turned, Nell stood behind me.
I jumped, not expecting her presence, then placed a hand on my chest, laughing at myself. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear you.”
Nell reached out to steady me. “I didn’t intend to startle you, dear. Do you have a few moments?”
I’d learned that the smile she wore meant nothing serious. Nell gave off a strong stern look when necessary.
I checked my station. “Yeah, I should be good for a few.”
I followed her to her office and we both took a seat.
Nell smoothed out her pants. “I’m sure you know about the vacation.”
I smothered a laugh. “Yeah, but from Hannah more than Jake.”
Nell looked up. “Oh?”
Uh oh. Was this not something I was supposed to say? I had already dipped my foot in the water. There was no turning back now. “He’s a bit protective over his mother.”
Nell laughed. “Oh that boy.”
“He cares.” One of the reasons I liked him so much. He had a big heart and wasn’t afraid to use it.
“That he does.” Nell studied me for a heartbeat too long, and I resisted the urge to squirm. “Hannah’s said that you’ve already agreed to step up if I go.”
“That’s right.” I nearly added, “I’d do anything” but caught myself. Would I? The Rubens meant a lot to me, but I had my own plans away from here. That didn’t fall into the “anything” category.
“I trust you, Avery. You’re one hell of a baker and much like Jake, you care.” She opened a drawer and thumbed through the items inside as I contemplated escaping.
I forced myself to breathe easy. This was just my head getting wrapped up in silly logic. Nothing to fret over.
Nell pulled out an index card and leaned into me. “There are a lot of recipes that only Hannah and I handle. Some are more for the fun of it and will be easy to pass on to other bakers for the week. But there’s one that we are known for, and Hannah will need help making it while I’m gone. I won’t let just anyone see it. And more than anything, it requires a certain skill set. I’ve seen your work. I know you can handle it.”
My heart thudded against my rib cage. I’d been here two months. That was it. In none of my wildest dreams did I think this could happen so quickly. Nell handed an index card to me. One deep breath and I looked.
Ruben Rugelach Recipe.
I forced my hands not to shake and scanned the card, trying to see if I needed to ask any questions for clarification.
“No one outside of Hannah and I know this recipe.”
I forgot about the directions and glued my eyes to Nell.
“Not even Jake. And not because he can’t know but because that boy wouldn’t understand a thing on that card.” She chuckled
and I forced myself to smile. When I really needed a large glass of water.
“You trust me with this,” I said.
She placed her strong baker’s hand over mine.
“I do. And not because of Jake. That would be foolish. I’ve seen you here. You’ve put your all into everything. You treat this place as if it were your own. So yes, I trust you.” She turned to her computer. “Now go check on your cupcakes before they burn.”
I nodded and left without saying a word. I didn’t think I could form words if I tried. The kitchen bustled with noise and activity like always. Instead of feeling invigorating, it lacked oxygen, suffocating me. I found my timer, checked the oven, and raced outside for a breath of fresh air.
The cold wind chilled me, but I welcomed it as a contrast to the adrenaline shot Nell had given me. I clutched the recipe tight in my hand. The reason I took this job. After Nell’s vacation, I’d be free to leave, to head back home and open Erik’s bakery.
I squeezed my eyes shut and lifted my head to the sky. I’d gotten exactly what I wanted. Only this felt a hundred times more than I had hoped for, and with that huge jump came way too many complications. If they depended on me and I left…
I couldn’t finish that thought. They did depend on me. I would leave. And I’d leave Jake in the process. The double whammy thereby burning the bridge I worked so hard at building. For the first time, guilt slid in that had nothing to do with Erik. I had been wrong to make this move. The Rubens would never forgive me.
My throat squeezed tight. I’d gotten what I wanted. And I felt like absolute shit. All three Rubens would one day hate me. I hadn’t expected that thought to hurt like a wound that wouldn’t heal.
*
“What am I going to do about you?”
The index card had yellowed from years of use, complete with stains and smudges—the sign of a much-loved recipe. The kind of recipe where one took it out for sentimental reasons, even though every step, every measurement, had long been engraved in the mind.
This particular recipe represented family. I didn’t get that when I first set out to copy it. Erik didn’t realize that either. We visited because even three hours away we knew of her rugelach. We figured we could do something similar, with my own flair, without causing problems and put our bakery on the map. I came here because I fell in love with Nell’s baking. Because I needed to get away from where Erik had been alive, and I needed to learn from the best. It was just a job. A stepping-stone.
Now it was family.
Nell and Hannah, they put blood, sweat, and tears into the bakery. It was home. Jake, even though he only helped out a few nights a week, it was his home too. I’d be taking the recipe far enough away that it wouldn’t be a competition. I didn’t sign a non-compete; there were no legality issues.
Only moral ones.
My phone vibrated. Jake. I turned the recipe facedown as guilt crawled up my spine.
Jake: Want to come over?
His words twisted at my soul. Yes. I wanted to come over. No. I couldn’t see him like this. I needed Dick Guy again, someone impartial who would understand.
I needed Jake not to understand.
Me: I need to get some work done tonight.
Not a total lie. Conflict or not, the recipe still called my name. A trial run was needed. No way could I do that with Jake here.
Jake: Tomorrow?
Me: Tomorrow.
My stomach churned. Did he know I had the recipe? Did he know what that meant? No, he couldn’t. Maybe he sensed it in the air. My pending departure.
I shook my head. Don’t be an idiot. So I had the recipe. So what? Nothing said I had to head back home right away. Staying a few years didn’t mess up my plans too much. More time to learn from Nell and Hannah.
More time with Jake.
Music, I needed a distraction. I put on some classic rock and grabbed a bowl, ready to tackle the recipe. Only to stop cold at the index card.
There was writing on the back.
Not part of the recipe.
I took tentative steps closer, looking at the loopy cursive.
To Nell, love of my life. Together we make some good magic. Sweets for sweethearts. Can be filled with bitterness on those rough days. And a hard shell to keep it all intact. So what do you say? Let’s make it real. Marry me.
My bowl clanged to the floor as my hands covered my mouth. I had no idea if this was Jake’s father or not. I’d bet on yes. I understood now why the recipe was so important, so special.
My legs gave out and I crumbled to the floor. Tears slid down my cheeks. They shouldn’t have trusted me with this recipe. I didn’t deserve it.
I had to give it back.
First, I needed a drink.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Jake
Avery: Why did you have to be Dick Guy?
I blinked at the text and pushed away from the computer screen. Several browser tabs were open, all set to search for the whereabouts of one Steven Ruben. All I found was my childhood home—pre-fire—and a cell phone with a Pennsylvania zip code. At least, I thought that was his. Damn common name.
Me: What’s wrong?
Avery: Nothing’s wrong. Why do you think something’s wrong?
I scratched my neck, my computer search forgotten and a hint of worry creeping under my skin.
Me: Look above.
Avery: I liked the anonymous person. Occasionally, one needs to talk with someone outside of their bubble.
The worry was a lot more than a hint now. But was she talking about herself or me?
Me: What’s wrong?
Avery: You already asked that.
Me: Yeah, and you’ve confirmed there’s a problem. How can I help?
Avery: By being Dick Guy again.
Me: Fine. Done. Take off your shirt.
Avery: Jake!
Me: I can’t be Dick Guy if you type my name.
Avery: You can’t be Dick Guy anymore.
Avery: I miss Dick Guy.
The worry pulsed through my veins. She’d never been like this, even on her bad days. I checked my pockets, searching the area, trying to remember where I put my damn keys.
Avery: Sorry. I had too much wine.
Me: How much wine have you had?
Avery: I think this was open.
Me: Think?
The worry morphed from a pulse to a current. Where were my damn keys?
Avery: Or did I open it?
Me: I’m coming over.
I scanned the room, sure my keys were somewhere nearby, when my phone beeped.
Avery: No! Dick Guy doesn’t come over!
I shoved my hands through my hair in frustration.
Me: What do you want?
Avery: Isn’t that the million-dollar question. What do I want? What does anyone want?
She was delirious and causing a nervous pulse to tick in my neck. I had to see her. To make sure she was okay.
Me: You shouldn’t be alone. Not like this. I’m coming over.
Avery: I’m fine. Honest.
Me: Liar.
Avery: Okay. I’m not fine. But I need to be alone. I’ll get some sleep.
Me: Now I really know you’re lying.
Avery: I mean, I’ll try and sleep off the alcohol. Got too heavy handed. That’s all.
It wasn’t all. I knew it. She knew I knew it. But whatever it was, she didn’t want to share. And for a moment, I wished I were still Dick Guy as well, because she would have told him. Fucking shame. I wanted to know what went on in her head. I wanted to be her confidant. And she’d prefer a stranger to her boyfriend.
I should go over there anyway, knock down some of her walls. Maybe get her to start opening up more. My phone rang and, for a second, I hoped it was her, but Avery rarely called. Instead, it was Carter.
“I think I found him.”
My back straightened. “You’re shitting me? That was fast.”
“Shit you not. I got lucky. My buddy knew of a boarding type hous
e in the area. Says there’s always new guys coming and going. I’m parked out front and a guy that looks a lot like Daddy Dearest just left.”
Fuck. I collected my shoes. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“What are we going to do?”
I froze with my bad leg over my good one. Good question. “I have no clue.”
I hung up and put my second shoe on before picking up my phone again.
Me: Maybe I wish you were Wrong Number as well.
Avery: See. The universe messed us up.
Me: Or did it make it better?
Avery: Depends on the day. What’s wrong, Dick Guy?
Me: Right back at you, Wrong Number.
Avery: We can’t go back, can we?
I sighed and looked up, catching sight of my keys on the couch.
Me: Doesn’t look like it. Might as well share.
Avery: If only it were so simple.
Me: It should be.
Avery: Yeah? What’s wrong?
Her words trapped me. I didn’t want her to know about Dad. Didn’t want to worry her. Or worry about her telling Hannah and Mom. I wasn’t sure which. Carter was a no brainer. He’d have my back, help beat the bastard up. Avery would have my back as well, but I wanted all my loved ones as far away as possible.
Which led to keeping my trap shut.
Me: You win.
Avery: I tried to type “yay” but it didn’t feel good.
Me: No, it doesn’t.
I shoved my phone into my back pocket and finished getting ready to meet up with Carter. My right fist wanted to take out some aggression on my father’s face. Another reason I needed Carter; he might actually let me.
*
I parked at the field and walked to Carter’s car. The night was dark and cool, with a cloudy sky obscuring most of the moon. A few flickering streetlights were the only source of light in an otherwise depressing night. It fit my mood. Heck, it fit my father.
At Carter’s passenger door I rapped my knuckles against the glass then slid inside.
“Any luck?” I asked.
Carter leaned back against his seat and stretched. “Don’t think so, but it has been a few years since I’ve seen the asshole. How does he look?”