by Beth Ciotta
“It got worse after Mom died. She used to push family time, Sundays were our special day, and although he always groused at first, once he relaxed into it…”—she reveled in a hundred memories, smiled—“we always had a great time. Anyway, after … he withdrew. From me, from life. I spent more and more time with my Grandma Madison, who was nice, but kind of distant and conservative. As for me, instead of withdrawing from life, I attacked it with a vengeance. As I got older I spent the majority of my time at friends’ houses, especially Monica’s. I joined every club imaginable—Girl Scouts, Four-H, choir, drama. I took extracurricular classes—dancing, horseback riding, ceramics.”
“Squeezing as much into life as possible. No dreams or goals unachieved.”
“Exactly.”
“And your dad indulged your activities because it kept you busy and scarce and because it’s how he showed love—by buying you things. Instead of affording you his time and affection, he supported you financially.”
She was surprised by how well Devlin understood and pleased that he didn’t seem to be taking sides. “It became our way of life. Totally dysfunctional really, because we were both hiding from our fears instead of addressing them. I know why I kept my emotional distance.”
Devlin arched a brow. “Because every time you tried to get close, he pushed you away?”
“Right again. What I didn’t know was why he kept me at arm’s length. No special trips together. No family time at all. He even made it a point to work every Sunday. I assumed he wasn’t interested in being a single parent. That, without Mom around, he didn’t know what to do with me, how to be with me.
“Today, after I shared my fear of dying with him and explained about the compulsive need to explore every passion, he confessed that the reason he pushed me away was because he couldn’t stand the thought of losing me the way he’d lost Mom. Emotional disconnect was his lifeline to mental stability.”
“There are few things that rank with the loss, or fear of loss, of one’s child,” Devlin said in a thoughtful tone.
“That’s very tolerant of you. Most people would call his behavior cowardly or at the very least selfish.”
“I’m not most people.”
“So I’m learning.” She studied him a moment, conscious of a wisp of melancholy. Did this subject conjure painful memories relating to his own life? Again she wondered about the former wife no one talked about. Did he lose her in an accident? To disease? Childbirth? For his sake, she prayed deep down that they’d simply divorced.
Maybe she was pushing, but she couldn’t help giving him the opportunity to reveal his past marriage and the lingering effects. “Do you know my dad still mourns my mom to this day, as in he can’t imagine remarrying? Ever?”
“He must’ve loved her very much.” Devlin reached across the seat and squeezed her hand. “Something tells me he loves you just as deeply—in spite of his efforts not to.”
Okay. So maybe he wasn’t taking this conversation personally. Just now he seemed entirely focused on her and her dilemma. Relaxing a little, she smiled at his observation because today she’d come to the same conclusion. “He flew out here because our last phone conversation had ended so badly. Like you with your dad, he wanted to confront the situation face-to-face. You can imagine how upset he was when he arrived and couldn’t reach me by phone, nor could he find me at Daisy’s. That’s when he reached out to Monica, who put him in touch with Luke. Knowing I’d been in an accident and then stranded … he wanted to see for himself that I was all right. He didn’t expect to find us … you know.”
“Awkward for everyone. So,” he said, glancing over. “What did you tell him about us?”
“I told him we click.” Which was true, but her actual words had been, I think he’s the one, the man I’m destined to be with. She’d confessed that her father had been right about Ryan—a lapse of judgment on her part but not a total mistake. Because of Ryan she’d enrolled and graduated from culinary school, an accomplishment she cherished and one her dad applauded as well. “And I promised I’d take it slow.”
“A challenge for someone who attacks her passions with reckless abandon,” Devlin teased.
“Yes, well, that was the old me. The new me intends to hone the art of savoring.”
He cast her a look that spiked her libido. “Sounds like we’re on the same wavelength.”
Meaning he intended to cut back at work? To slow down and smell the roses? To commit more time to his personal life? To her? She knew he wanted to pursue their relationship, but to what level? Could he imagine marrying a second time? Did he ever want children?
She buzzed with a dozen questions, only she didn’t know which one to ask first. Asking him if he loved her wasn’t exactly taking it slow, and it wasn’t fair. He’d known her less than a month. Just because she’d fallen head over heels in the blink of an eye didn’t mean he had.
Just then the wilderness gave way to civilization, saving her from bobbling the conversation. Devlin took the lead as they hit the main highway and neared town. “You realize that between what Gram saw of us in the backseat of the Caddy last week and what Luke and your dad saw today we are now, like it or not, an item.”
Another cryptic insinuation. “As in a couple? As in … dating?”
“Sounds kind of archaic, but yeah.”
“Exclusively?”
“I’m old fashioned that way.” Staring straight ahead, he added, “Do you mind?”
She sensed vulnerability in his tone. Did it have something to do with his former wife? Dammit. The longer he kept that part of his life quiet, the greater her curiosity. “I think it’s sweet,” she said. “For what it’s worth, I’m not keen on sharing you either.”
That coaxed a smile out of him.
Heart skipping, she thought about them stepping out in Sugar Creek as a committed couple. “Tasha won’t like it,” she blurted.
He clenched his jaw, brushed aside her hair. “I’ll handle Tasha,” he said, frowning at the discolored goose egg. Then he noticed the stubborn set of her own jaw and laughed. “Right. We’ll handle Tasha. Although she’s already taken a beating from my sister.”
“What?”
“Touched base with Rocky this morning and got an earful.”
Chloe settled back in her seat, absorbing the story, wondering what effect this fallout would have on the ongoing Monroe/Burke feud, and having an epiphany about Cupcake Lovers. By the time she and Devlin reached the hospital, she couldn’t wait to run her idea by Daisy.
Unfortunately, Devlin steered Chloe straight to the emergency room. “My girlfriend was involved in a minor car accident,” he said to the nurse. “Just some bumps and bruises, but I’d feel better if she was examined.”
Without looking up, the uniformed woman passed them a clipboard. “You’ll have to fill out these forms.”
Knowing it was useless to argue, Chloe nabbed a pen and took a seat.
“What are you grinning at?” Devlin asked as he eased down beside her.
She leaned over and, feeling like a besotted teen, brushed a playful kiss across his lips. “You called me your girlfriend.”
* * *
While Chloe was being checked out by a doctor, Devlin had words with Daisy’s attending physician, Dr. Beane, then slipped into her room. “Hi, Gram.”
“It’s about time you got here,” she grumbled, pressing a button to raise the top half of her bed. “Where’s Chloe?”
“I asked a doctor to look her over.”
“Is she all right?”
“Seems to be. Just wanted to make sure. What happened to your hair?”
“Is that your way of saying you don’t like it?”
“It’s purple.”
She smiled. “A candy striper did it for me.”
He pulled a chair up to the edge of the bed, smiled back. “I don’t think they’re called candy stripers anymore.”
“Whatever. She was young and peppy and had bright purple stripes in her hair. I asked if she could make me
look hip. Told her I needed to look glitzy and special for a publicity photo. She left and came back with a can of spray-on hair color and a bunch of sparkly makeup. I looked fabulous, if I say so myself.”
“I’m sure you did.” He pointed to the yellow headband with purple stars, strategically placed over her bandaged forehead. “She bring you that, too?”
“Clever way to hide the bandage, I thought. I washed the makeup off last night, after I knew Chloe wasn’t coming. But I’m thinking about keeping the hair color for a while. What do you think?”
Purple curls. Pink eyeglasses. He thought she looked ridiculous. “Does it make you happy?”
“Delirious.”
“Then I love it.”
Her smile widened. “Rocky said the same thing. She’s around here somewhere. Ran down for some coffee. Did you hear about how she beat the stuffing out of Tasha?”
“I did.” He reached for his grandmother’s hand, trying not to fixate on how fragile she looked, hooked up to an IV, a cast on her ankle and a camouflaged bandage around her head. “Gram, I know about your heart attack last year. I need to talk to you—”
“So what’s going on with my son?”
He froze, blindsided by the change of subject. “What do you mean?’
“You told me he and your mom booked a spontaneous Caribbean cruise and that’s why he didn’t fly straight up after hearing about my accident. Because he’s in the middle of the ocean.”
The lie hadn’t come easily, but it had come from the heart.
“He’s called numerous times to check up on me,” she continued. “In two days he’s sent a flower arrangement, a plant, and a basket of baked goods.”
“I’m sure he’s feeling guilty—”
“Guilty, schmilty. I suspected something when he retired early. Jerome’s a chip off his father’s block. J.T.’s is in his blood. He lives and breathes that store and he wouldn’t walk away—not at his age—unless something was terribly wrong. At first I thought it was a midlife crisis. Maybe he’d had an affair and he and your mom went away to work things out in private. But now … I think different.” She squeezed Devlin’s hand and looked him dead in the eyes. “What’s wrong with my son?”
Christ almighty. Devlin’s heart cracked with the knowledge, the burden.
“Lie and I’ll know, Devlin. I always know with all of my grandchildren.”
Dammit. “I promised I wouldn’t tell.”
“Then I’ll guess. Affair?”
“God, no.”
“Financial problems?”
“No.”
“Heath issues?”
He didn’t answer.
She licked her lips. “Your mom?”
“No.”
“Your dad then.”
“I can’t—”
She squeezed his hand harder. “It’s serious then. Terminal?”
Jesus. He couldn’t take it. “He’s seeing a specialist, Gram. The prognosis is promising.” She didn’t gasp or cry or fall apart in any way. She merely opened her scrawny arms to him. Weary with the secret, the fears, Devlin, a grown man, a man who always assumed the role of caretaker, took solace in his grandma’s embrace.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Chloe had raised her knuckles to announce her arrival just as Daisy’s door swung open and Devlin stepped out. They looked at each other, asking at the same time, “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” they answered in unison, then laughed.
Shaking his head, Devlin lowered his voice, “Why would you ask me that?”
“I don’t know. You look a little … wiped out. Did Daisy give you a hard time?”
He scraped a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Actually, she went out of her way to make me feel better.”
“So she agreed to ease up on her Errol Flynn escapades?”
“I didn’t ask. Instead I invited her to join us for a hot-air balloon ride with Nash as soon as she gets out of here.”
Chloe smiled. “Seriously?”
“Dr. Beane assured me he’d made Gram understand about mixing meds and I decided to broach her fondness for cocktails subtly, after she’s home. As for the reckless stunts, I took your suggestion about nurturing the positive. Figured if she’s desperate to experience some thrills in life, why not join in so I can at least ensure a modicum of safety?”
“That’s almost contradictory,” Chloe teased, “but I get what you mean. It’s a sweet gesture.”
“Yeah, well, I haven’t been spending as much time with family as I should. I intend to change that. According to almost everyone I know, I need to get a life.” He gazed into her eyes. “Last night was a start.”
“Keep looking at me like that and I’ll have to find a private place and … take advantage of you.”
“Tempting.” He moved in just as two interns pushed a cart past them, short-circuiting the charged moment. Expression intent, Devlin brushed her hair from her face. “So what did the doctor say about this head bump?”
“He saw no reason for concern. Came to the same conclusion regarding my other bruises. He did, however, give me pills and instructions to reduce the swelling of my ankle.” She smiled. “I won’t be running any races this week, but other than that, I’m fine.”
“Good to know.”
“So, is it okay if I visit with Daisy?” Chloe was anxious to see for herself that her friend was on the mend. She was also bursting to share her new dream. If anyone could help to put her vision in perspective, it was the woman who shared her love of cooking and had a long history in Sugar Creek.
“Sure. In fact, she’s anxious to see you. I need to step outside, make a call. Rocky’s in the building, so don’t be surprised if she drops in.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She coordinated her thoughts as she moved quietly inside, hoping she could run her idea by Daisy before Rocky or any other family member showed. As Chloe peeked around a partially closed curtain, the first thing she noticed was the cast that covered Daisy’s foot and rose to mid-shin. At least it was colorful—pink—which made Chloe smile. She would’ve been bothered by the IV drip, but she knew it was helping to ease the woman’s discomfort. Knowing she’d suffered a gash to the forehead, Chloe had prepared herself for ugly stitches or a bloody bandage and instead saw a bright headband with stars.
Daisy opened her eyes and, seeing Chloe, grinned. “Hi, kitten.”
“Oh, my God,” she blurted, loving the whimsy of it all. “Who did your hair? I love it!” What she loved was this woman’s confidence and, dammit all, her sense of derring-do.
“I knew you would,” Daisy said, eyes sparkling behind her pink blingy glasses. “Hey, are those my boots?”
“Hope you don’t mind. What with the weather—”
“Speaking of, what did the doctor say about your injuries, kitten?”
Blushing, Chloe raised a hand to her bruised temple. “I’m fine. Which is more than I can say for the Caddy. I’m so sorry, Daisy.”
“Bah. It’s just a car. If Leo can’t fix it, I’ll get a new one.” She patted the edge of the mattress. “Sit. We need to catch up. Did you hear? Rocky’s the new president of Cupcake Lovers!”
Chloe nodded. “Heard she gave Tasha a black eye.”
“Yes, well, Rocky’s got a shiner, too. But it was worth it, she said. Now the club will get back on track with our charity efforts.”
“About that,” Chloe said, her stomach fluttering with nerves. “Did you hear Gemma’s Bakery went out of business?”
Daisy’s bandaged face lit up. “I did. Don’t tell anyone yet, but I’m thinking of buying it.”
Her fluttery stomach dropped. “What?”
“I’ve always wanted my own business.”
“J.T.’s—”
“My husband’s passion. My son’s. Not mine.”
Chloe noticed she didn’t mention the store as Devlin’s passion, but didn’t comment. Her brain was stuck on Gemma’s.
“Anyway,” Daisy said, “it’s the perfect venture for us.”
“Us?”
“You and me. The Soul Sisters. Can’t you see it? Our own bakery!”
Her enthusiasm danced back to life, albeit an altered life. Going into business with Daisy? There was something fantastically inspired about that. “I was envisioning more of a coffeehouse café. I mean … You’re not going to believe this, but I was thinking of buying Gemma’s.”
“Really?” Daisy’s eyes grew wide with amazement, then crinkled with humor. “Adventurous minds think alike. It’s a sign!”
Chloe laughed. “It has to be.”
“I toyed with the idea as soon as I heard the news, which was this morning. What about you?”
“Yesterday, when I was stranded in the woods, pinned under that tree, I racked my brain for new goals, a new dream. One of the things that popped into mind was Gemma’s. I could see it. Sugar Creek’s first Internet café, with a twist.”
“A what?”
“A place with wireless Internet access. Where people can come in with their laptops and PDAs and go online. Check their e-mails, the news, and weather. Surf blogs and Web sites. Cybershop.”
“Greek to me, but go on.”
“This is a tourist town and yet there’s no public place for visitors to go online except the library. And no one offers wireless. Another thing: How do people function around here without a Starbucks? A place to hang out and drink gourmet coffee? To enjoy specialty snacks and sweets while reading a book or newspaper. Picture it, Daisy. A quaint café with oversized cushy chairs and maybe a sofa. Mismatched antique tables with unique collectibles and art.”
“I can see it!”
“Maybe some sort of logo that goes with an overall theme. A mascot. Like … a moose.”
Daisy scrunched her silvery brows. “A moose?”
“I saw one when I was in the woods and…” She shrugged. “It inspired me.”
“A moose makes sense,” Daisy said. “Indicative of the area. Tourists love them. We’ve got a whole table allotted to moose souvenirs at J.T.’s.”
Chloe smiled. “I know. I saw. Oh! And I was thinking … why not have a special display featuring cupcakes made by members of Cupcake Lovers? All proceeds for those sales could go to a charity of the month. Also, if anything ever happened with the Cupcake Lovers recipe book, we could sell copies in the café.” She fidgeted, feeling as though she’d maybe overstepped. “Bad idea?”