The Truth in Tiramisu (A Poppy Creek Novel Book 2)

by Rachael Bloome

  “Deal.” Luke flipped open his red pocket knife, ready to continue his engraving.

  Grant returned his attention to the gnarled wood, grateful for the distraction. “I got in a fight with my dad this morning. And it was… pretty ugly.”

  Luke’s hand stilled a moment, but he quickly resumed carving, not uttering a word.

  “I might have called him a bad father.” Grant cringed with the admission, reliving the awful moment all over again.

  “And…” Luke prompted.

  “And what? I called my dad a bad father. It doesn’t get much worse than that, does it?”

  “I mean, did you apologize?”

  “He didn’t give me the chance. At the first sign of conflict, he skulked out of the room. Like he usually does.” Grant flinched. There he went again…. It was like a mean-spirited reflex. And he hated it about himself. He never used to be so caustic. But after years of carrying around the pain in his pocket, like a trinket commemorating his unhappy childhood, certain trains of thought had become an unwelcome habit.

  Luke didn’t respond right away, and feeling self-conscious, Grant filled the gap. “You and Colt were lucky. You could buy one of those World’s Greatest Dad mugs and it wouldn’t be ironic.”

  Deep in thought, Luke kept his gaze glued on his task, digging the blade into the wood, flecks of sawdust flitting to the ground as he removed the excess to expose the beauty underneath.

  Swish, swish, swish.

  Grant raked the sandpaper over the coarse beam, the muscles in his fingers clenched, waiting for Luke to end his deafening silence.

  “Yeah, we were lucky,” Luke said at last, a slight catch in his throat. “I’d give anything to have one more day with him. Even if it was our worst day.”

  At Luke’s words, the sandpaper slipped from Grant’s fingertips and drifted to the floor. This time, he didn’t bother to pick it up. “I never got a chance to say this in person. And I should have.” Grant paused, realizing whatever he said next would never be enough. “I am so unbelievably sorry about your dad.” His apology escaped in a hoarse whisper, barely making it past the emotion constricting his throat.

  Luke met his gaze from the opposite end of the arch, the spark of pain in his hazel eyes evident in the glow of the overhead light. “Do me a favor, Parker.”

  “Anything.”

  “Try to patch things up with your dad. You never know how much time you have left.”

  Sitting on Maggie’s kitchen counter with a mixing bowl poised on her lap, Eliza felt like she was five years old again. Which was fitting, considering her immature outburst that morning at Ben’s school. The devastated look on Grant’s face still haunted her. How could she have been so cruel?

  Tears pricking her eyes, Eliza watched Maggie crush walnuts for the top of her world-famous cinnamon rolls, taking a mental picture of each subtle movement. The way Maggie’s strong yet graceful hands moved with the rolling pin as though they were molded together. And the streaks of silver peppering her dark curls, coupled with how she brushed them from her forehead using the back of her wrist. Eliza even wanted to remember the soft crunch of the walnuts and the sharp scent of yeast and buttermilk. She wasn’t sure how many more times she’d have the opportunity to bake with Maggie in her bright, sunny kitchen. And she didn’t want to forget a single detail.

  Maggie had been offering to teach Eliza her special recipe for months, but Eliza kept putting it off. The cinnamon rolls were Maggie’s final link to the bakery—a coveted connection Eliza wasn’t ready to sever.

  Although grateful for the opportunity to run her own business, Eliza had practically raised Ben in the bakery. It was a part of her—of them. And it wasn’t lost on Eliza that she still called it the bakery, and not the café, despite its new name and menu.

  Eliza gripped the wooden spoon until her knuckles turned white, wrestling with a lifetime of regrets. Nothing had gone the way she’d planned. And she only had herself to blame.

  “Maggie,” Eliza said softly. “Why did you hire me?”

  “What do you mean, dear?”

  “Over seven years ago, when I asked you for a job at the bakery, why did you hire me? I had zero job experience. No formal baking skills. And at the very least, being an unwed, teenage mother showed I had terrible judgment.”

  “Show me a person without sin, and I’ll show you a catfish that barks like a dog.” Maggie recited the strange words as though they were a common expression.

  “What?” Eliza frowned, uncertain she’d heard correctly.

  A smile hid behind Maggie’s hazel eyes as she explained. “It’s something my father said when he caught my sister, Sandy, and I gossiping about a girl in our school.”

  “A girl who was pregnant?” The cinnamon rolls forgotten, Eliza let the wooden spoon rest against the side of the mixing bowl.

  “Yes.” Maggie gave a short, remorseful shake of her head. “And I’m sorry to say my sister and I weren’t very kind to her. After overhearing our hurtful gossip, our father sat us down and asked us an important question: ‘When we bring our sin to the Lord, does He remove it as far as the east is from the west?’ Of course, Sandy and I agreed that He did. ‘So,’ he asked us. ‘Why do you two insist on looking for it?’” Maggie’s eyes misted over at the memory.

  Dropping her gaze, Eliza stared intently at the flour dusting her hands, a tightness in her throat.

  Gently taking the bowl from her grasp, Maggie set it on the counter. “Do you want to know what I saw the day you showed up at the bakery and asked me for a job?”

  Blinking back tears, Eliza nodded.

  Maggie took Eliza’s hands in hers, her eyes glistening with motherly warmth and affection. “I saw a young girl who’d taken the wrong path. But rather than continue down that road, she made a difficult choice. She changed her entire life for a child she hadn’t even named yet. To me, that made you incredibly brave. And exactly the kind of woman I wanted to hire. Not a day goes by that I’m not reminded I made the right decision.”

  Sliding off the counter, Eliza wrapped her arms around Maggie’s neck, her silent tears dampening the ruffled collar of her apron.

  With a soothing hand, Maggie stroked Eliza’s hair, cooing softly. “Oh, sweet girl. Living with shame is a lot like baking with arsenic. The cupcake may look beautiful on the outside, but inside…”

  Maggie’s unfinished thought touched Eliza’s heart where it had never been reached before. And Eliza gave herself permission to cry without reproach for the first time in years.

  “There, there, sweetheart. It’ll be okay,” Maggie purred.

  Sniffling, Eliza lifted her tearful gaze to meet Maggie’s. “Thank you,” she whispered, hoping those two simple words could carry the weight of her gratitude.

  Wiping her damp cheeks with the hem of her apron, Eliza asked, “Do you mind if we come back to the cinnamon rolls later? There’s something important I need to do.”

  “Of course, dear. I’m not going anywhere.”

  A smile broke through Eliza’s tears as she realized Maggie was referring to far more than the cinnamon rolls.

  Chapter 16

  With a purposeful stride, Grant headed for his father’s office. After finding the rest of the house empty, he figured it was worth a shot, and crossed his fingers his dad hadn’t left for Mac’s already.

  Grant had gone over his apology a thousand times on the drive home from Luke’s, even reciting a few phrases out loud. While he’d expected some resistance, or a bitter taste in his mouth, the words rolled off his tongue easily, as though they’d been waiting for Grant to summon the necessary courage. He only hoped the same would hold true when he looked his father in the eye.

  The late afternoon sun filtered through heavy wooden blinds, casting strange shadows across the vacant room. Discouraged, Grant turned to go, when a flickering ray of light reflected off one of the marble chess pieces.

  Grant hesitated only a moment before spanning the short distance.

  While
the idea seemed ludicrous, or foolish at best, Grant couldn’t keep his fingers from curling around the smooth marble pawn, moving it forward one space.

  Then he scribbled a note on a Post-it and secured it to the chess board.

  Grant’s lips spread into a slow smile as he read the two simple words that spoke volumes.

  Your move.

  Backing out of the driveway, Grant decided to head to Jack’s for dinner. After an emotionally exhausting day, he could use the light banter and good-natured ribbing.

  Prepared to pull onto the main road, Grant slammed on the brakes when a Honda Accord cut him off, turning down his parents’ driveway.

  Coming to an abrupt stop, Eliza leaned out of the window and shouted, “Get out!”

  Grant blinked in confusion. “What?”

  “Get out of the car,” she repeated, gesturing for Grant to pull off to the side and park.

  Grant obliged, his heart hammering as he climbed out of his Tesla. What in the world was she doing here? “Is this a carjacking? Because you should know, this car is a pain up here. I have to stop in Primrose Valley to charge it.” He attempted a joke, but his voice fell flat thanks to the nervous jitter in his stomach.

  Reaching over the console, Eliza popped open the passenger door. “Get in.”

  The magic effects of her infectious grin set Grant’s erratic pulse at ease. “So, it’s a kidnapping?” he teased, hopping inside.

  “I prefer to call it luring you to an undisclosed location with the promise of your favorite foods.”

  “Well, why didn’t you say so?” Grant chuckled as he secured his seat belt, marveling at the magnetic charge between them.

  How was it that no matter how much time had passed, or what transpired between them, they so easily fell into a place of comfort, like coming home after a long journey.

  “Are you a better driver than you were in high school?” he asked with a grin.

  “What do you mean?” Eliza shot him look as she lurched onto the main road. “I was a great driver.”

  “Sure you were.” Still smiling, Grant leaned against the headrest, relishing the crisp, cool breeze whipping through his hair. “Didn’t you put Mrs. Locan in the hospital during your final road test?”

  “No! She got stung by a bee and went into anaphylactic shock. If anything, I’m a hero. I got her to the hospital in record time.”

  “And who opened the window that let in the bee?” Grant raised one eyebrow, suppressing a laugh.

  “Fine.” Eliza smirked. “I see how it is. Better be careful, then.” She eyed Grant’s open window with a mischievous glint.

  “Good thing I’m not allergic.” Grant sank deeper into the frayed upholstery, at once relaxed and uncertain. Would they talk about their argument that morning? Or pretend like it never happened?

  As if reading his mind, Eliza murmured, “I’m so sorry, Grant.”

  She kept her eyes on the road, but Grant noticed the way her fingers clenched around the steering wheel and the slight tremor in her jaw.

  “I shouldn’t have said those things to you earlier.”

  “It’s okay.” He shrugged. “You were right, anyway. Ben’s not my son. I shouldn’t have taken it so personally when you asked me not to speak in front of his class.” Grant wasn’t sure if his words were meant to console Eliza or himself.

  She stole a quick glance in his direction before refocusing on the road, her grip tightening until her knuckles blanched.

  For the rest of the drive, they rode in silence, save for the radio turned on low to an oldies station. Grant didn’t mind the absence of chitchat and was reminded of countless drives in the countryside when they’d play all their favorite songs, seeing where the road led them.

  When Eliza turned into the entrance of Willow Lake, Grant smiled, recalling fond memories of their childhood spent around summer bonfires, racing on paddle boards, and holding rock-skipping competitions.

  “We’re here,” Eliza announced with a dramatic flourish.

  “What exactly does this kidnapping entail?” Grant’s stomach flipped as his mind jumbled with possibilities. Although, simply being in Eliza’s company already made this the best evening he’d had in years.

  “A picnic dinner comprised of your favorite foods and a chance to win back your title of rock-skipping champion.” Eliza slid out of the driver’s seat, turning back with a heart-stopping smile. “I hope you’ve been practicing.”

  As the sun dipped behind Lupine Ridge, the golden sky mirrored across the still water, drenching everything in soft sepia tones.

  Eliza released a contented sigh, digging her toes into the cool blades of grass. While she’d had no idea what to expect when she picked up Grant earlier that evening, the night couldn’t have turned out more perfectly.

  She’d managed to keep her rock-skipping crown, with an even dozen skips on her fourth try.

  Grant had peaked at six. Eliza giggled at the thought.

  “Are you still laughing at me?” Grant pushed the picnic basket aside, making more room on the faded plaid blanket.

  “Six? Really?” Eliza giggled again, the giddiness bubbling out of her uncontrollably. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so… happy.

  “Hey! That’s not bad considering I don’t skip a lot of rocks in San Francisco.” Even in his protest, Grant’s words carried a teasing, playful lilt that sent Eliza’s heart soaring higher than the flock of sparrows overhead.

  Grant sprawled out on the blanket, tucking his arms behind his head for support. But not before tugging Eliza’s elbow to join him.

  Her breath came in short, fast spurts as she settled beside him, being careful not to lie too close. Already the heat between them made her cardigan unnecessary. Skin-on-skin contact would put her over the edge, for sure.

  Silently, they stared up at the sky as gold diffused to pink, followed by indigo; wispy clouds trailed past them, led by a gentle breeze.

  Eliza closed her eyes, reveling in how the wind still carried the same scent of evening primrose and pine like the last time they’d visited this very spot. Or was the air sweeter?

  The soothing chirp of crickets celebrating the onset of dusk threatened to lull Eliza to sleep. But even her most vivid dream couldn’t compare to the sensations surrounding her. And she didn’t want to miss a single whisper of wind or croak of a bullfrog.

  “Lizzy,” Grant murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Mm-hmm….”

  “Why do you call Ben ‘Bug’?”

  Eliza’s eyes fluttered open, the coveted moment shattered by her complicated reality. Eliza loved Ben more than anything in the world. But he’d forever be a reminder of the life she longed for, forever out of reach.

  Shifting on the soft cotton blanket, she kept her gaze fixed on the sky. With the sun now hidden, a chill rippled through her.

  “When I saw my first ultrasound,” Eliza started, picking at a blade of grass, “I told the technician that Ben looked like a tiny bug on the screen. It sounds silly now, but I was nervous, desperate for something to say. I’d never been more terrified in all my life. And strangely, I’d never felt more alone.”

  Grant stirred, his hand finding hers.

  Eliza didn’t pull away, relishing the comforting connection of their entwined fingers. “At that point, I still hadn’t decided on a name, so I wound up calling him Bug for nine whole months. I guess it stuck.”

  “How’d you finally decide on Ben?”

  “Benjamin. My grandfather’s name and my dad’s middle name. I ultimately settled on family tradition. Go figure,” Eliza laughed softly.

  “So, what’s Ben’s middle name, then?”

  Shifting position, Eliza slipped her hand from Grant’s, wariness worming its way around her heart. “Why all the questions?” She stole a sideways glance in his direction, grateful for the concealing shadows of twilight.

  “You have a child, Lizzy. He’s a part of you. Is it so weird that I’d
like to get to know him?”

  Eliza’s heartbeat fluttered at the earnestness in Grant’s tone. Oh, how she’d longed for and feared this moment.

  “Okay, one last question….” Grant rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow.

  Her pulse quickening, Eliza shut her eyes again, squeezing them tightly as though she could block out the world.

  “Did you love him?”

  Eliza’s breath slowed, stalling in her throat.

  When she didn’t answer, Grant added, “Ben’s father, I mean. Did you love him?”

  Even with her eyes closed, Eliza felt Grant watching her, waiting for her response.

  But what could she say?

  He’d asked for an answer she simply couldn’t give him.

  No matter how badly she wanted to.

  Chapter 17

  No matter how hard he tried, Grant couldn’t stop dwelling on the events of last night. The look on Eliza’s face when he’d asked her about Ben’s father still gave him chills. She’d turned ashen, the change visible even in the twilight. He hadn’t been able to breathe, waiting in agony for her response.

  But none came.

  Only a single tear trailing softly down her cheek. Which could only mean one thing….

  Eliza was still in love with Ben’s father.

  The realization gutted Grant, causing his chest to compress around his heart, as though she’d rolled one of the nearby boulders on top of him, leaving him gasping for air. What kind of man would abandon Eliza? And his own son? Did he even know what an incredible kid Ben was?

  Anger ripped through him, and he tore the page from his sketchbook, crumpling it in his fist. He’d come out to the garden to concentrate and make some progress on Landon’s project. But he struggled to think about anything other than Eliza. And the promising future that had slipped through his fingertips.

  For a moment, Grant had dared to hope, encouraged by the perfect evening they’d spent together. But what chance did he have if Eliza’s heart belonged to someone else?