2142 Green Hollow RD

by Katie Winters

  But did she have the strength to fight for her own happiness? She wasn’t so sure anymore.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Connie called Jennifer in the wee hours of the morning to announce her illness. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I can’t make it. I feel like I got run over by a car.”

  Jennifer was groggy from the many glasses of birthday wine, the cups of sugary cake, the cheesy lasagna. She rubbed her eyes and blinked through the darkness of her bedroom.

  “It’s okay, Connie. I can manage it.”

  “Are you sure?” Connie burst into a fit of coughs after that, a clear sign that she wouldn’t darken the door of the bakery that morning and maybe not the morning after that either.

  This was enough to make Jennifer’s head spin. Just after four-thirty, she forced her feet to the cold floor below, rubbed her eyes, and then slowly made her way to the shower. She stood beneath the hard needle-like spray for much longer than she should have. Come on, Jen. Get yourself going. You’re forty-one years old, for goodness sake. It’s up to you to keep this bakery going. As long as it stays upright, that is.

  Once at the bakery, Jennifer began the heavy, soul-crushing process of the first round of baking. She knew that Hannah would arrive just after five-thirty, but she needed back-up in the form of one of her sisters. She scrunched her nose, which was already coated with flour, and drummed up Olivia’s number. She texted her first, then called her. The phone rang six times before Olivia answered. When she finally did, she breathed, “Don’t tell me you need me to get out of bed. It’s so warm here.”

  “I promise I won’t ask you again,” Jennifer said as she peered in the oven at the glowing croissants. “But it’s one of the last Saturdays before Christmas, which means we’re about to be in the middle of a storm.”

  Olivia heaved a sigh. “And you really think I’m your girl?”

  “That’s right,” Jennifer said. “You’re it for me, baby doll.”

  “Good grief. You just took four steps back from the feminism movement, I think,” Olivia joked. “Okay. I’ll be there in thirty. But I won’t look good. That’s my punishment to you. You’ll have to peer at these horrible caves beneath my eyes...”

  “Lucky for you, I have them, too. And they are deep!” Jennifer said with a laugh.

  With Olivia and Hannah by her side, Jennifer found a way to calm herself down. Slowly, they pierced through the immense amount of work required for the morning ahead — baking cakes, and several different types of custard-filled tarts, frosting the donuts, cleaning the front of the house, and arranging the delicate pastries in the big glass counter. With every next step, Jennifer tried to convince herself not to think about the torrential nature of time — that very soon, maybe, they would have to latch the doors of the Frosted Delights Bakery and end three generations of beautiful work and commitment.

  “Have you decided what you’re going to do about that developer?” Olivia asked as she adjusted several glazed donuts on the counter.

  Jennifer buzzed her lips with annoyance. “No.”

  Olivia gripped an apple turnover from the bottom of the glass counter, splayed it on a plate, and said, “I just don’t think he would want to talk to you if he didn’t have some kind of good news, right? Maybe there’s a way around what he plans to do.”

  Jennifer scrunched her nose. It all seemed too difficult to deal with. She wanted this guy to abandon the island and all his meaningless pursuits. She wanted to turn back the clock so that her mother never had her stroke. She wanted Nicholas to be little, for her and Joel to be in love, for her mother to be behind the counter at the bakery, and most of all, to see her twin sister smile just one more time.

  Finally, they turned the sign to OPEN. Immediately, a stream of guests rushed in from the frigid temperature outside, hungry, with cold bright eyes and red cheeks. They went through donuts like lightning, poured lattes with reckless abandon, and still managed to find time to joke with customers they’d known their entire lives. A few even sang along with the Christmas songs on the radio while they waited for their orders.

  Around noon, Olivia collapsed against the counter and blinked down at the apple turnover she had selected for herself hours before. “I’ve only had time to take three bites of this thing! I don’t know how your mother did this all these years. My knees are screaming.”

  Jennifer poured herself a cup of black coffee and furrowed her brow as more customers funneled toward the front door. “Brace yourself for another few hours of this.”

  Olivia shuddered. “You owe me big time, girl.”

  “Oh, I know I do. There’s a massage with your name on it,” Jennifer winked at her.

  “I hope it’s from a professional and not from you,” Olivia teased. “That time you tried to massage my shoulders, you gave me a muscle spasm. Way too intense.”

  “Always so ungrateful,” Jennifer said with a laugh.

  They planned to close the bakery at around four in the afternoon. Around three, they began to really run out of supplies. The only donuts available were the glazed ones that nobody really fell for, a spare chocolate one that had a bit of rough icing, and a figure-eight donut with two Oreos stabbed in the holes.

  “We might have to close up early,” Jennifer said. “The people of Edgartown ran us dry.”

  Olivia headed into the back of the bakery to check on Hannah, who’d alternated between several states of anxiety throughout the busy morning. This left Jennifer out by the counter alone. She glanced at the register’s total revenue for the day and made a mental note to tell her mother. She knew she’d be pleased.

  That moment, a young woman appeared in the bakery. She looked to be around twenty, maybe a tiny bit older; her eyes were light green and her dark blonde hair fluttered across her shoulders beautifully. Her eyes were a tad too big, as though she’d just been surprised by something, and she looked around the bakery as though she’d never seen it before. This wasn’t customary for most guests who entered the bakery. Most people were regulars.

  “Hello! Can I help you?” Jennifer asked, flashing the girl a welcoming smile.

  The girl blinked at her, surprised, somehow, that Jennifer had greeted her. She stretched a hand over her scarf and exhaled slowly. “I don’t know. I guess so. Yes.” She laughed lightly to herself and then added, “I’m sorry. I’ve just had a pretty long journey, and I think I’m a little zonked.”

  “Sugar always helps that problem,” Jennifer affirmed. “Although I have to admit, we’re pretty low on treats.”

  The girl leaned down to analyze the little cakes in the bottom half of the glass counter. “My gosh. I haven’t had a cheesecake in, what? Six months? And you have pumpkin cheesecake. Phew.”

  “You only live once,” Jennifer said, delivering the girl a big, overzealous smile. “I should know. My birthday was last night, and I had not one, but two slices of cake.”

  The girl laughed. Her eyes scanned over Jennifer’s flour-covered apron. “You look fantastic. You obviously don’t dip into these treats too often.”

  Jennifer shrugged. “It’s tempting, though. And I think any good life has a little bit of sweetness to it. Don’t you?”

  “Fine. You’ve convinced me,” the girl said. “One slice of pumpkin cheesecake. And a large coffee. Black.”

  “Perfect.” Jennifer looked at the girl again as she headed toward the register. There was something about her that reminded Jennifer of herself. Something “defeated” about her look. As she hovered over the register, she said spontaneously, “Actually, the register isn’t working right now.”

  “Oh.” The girl stood anxiously with her wallet in her hand.

  “Yeah. So I guess the cheesecake and coffee are on the house,” Jennifer said. “If that’s okay with you.”

  The girl blushed. “Oh my gosh. I couldn’t possibly. Can’t I just leave some cash with you?”

  Jennifer shook her head. “No way. In the spirit of Christmas and because of your long journey from God know
s where I want to give it to you.” Jennifer hurriedly placed a slice of cheesecake on a plate, then brewed up an Americano for her. As the beans ground up, she shooed the girl toward a table. “Sit down and rest your feet. I’ll bring this over for you.”

  “You’re way too kind,” the girl said. “Seriously. I actually came from New York, and this—this kind of hospitality—it isn’t anything I’m used to.”

  Jennifer nodded knowingly. “I imagine so. Every time I go to the city, I’m a little overwhelmed with how cold everyone is. But I guess you have enough other stuff to make up for it. All that art and culture and life...”

  The girl gave a nervous laugh as she sat. She folded one leg over the other and bobbed her beautiful boot through the air. “Usually, I think that. Right now, I’m not so sure. I’m not so sure about anything.”

  “Welcome to the club,” Jennifer said. “Although, aren’t you a little young to be so unsure? My son is around your age, and he seems like he has the whole world figured out.”

  “Have him tell me his secret,” the girl said. “I really need some guidance.”

  Jennifer appeared over the girl’s table moments later. She placed the gooey pumpkin cheesecake before her, along with the cup of steaming-hot coffee. The girl blushed again and said, “Thank you. You don’t know what this means to me.”

  There was something about this girl. Something that endeared Jennifer to her. She couldn’t fully place it. She glanced back toward the kitchen, where Olivia looked to be in intense conversation with Hannah.

  “Do you mind if I sit here with you for a sec?” Jennifer said. “I’m exhausted. We had such a long shift, but it doesn’t look like we’ll get many more visitors. Thank goodness.”

  “Of course!” the girl said. “Please do. I’d love the company. I haven’t been able to track down my dad yet. He’s in a few business meetings this afternoon and is meant to meet me afterward. He hasn’t checked his phone yet. To tell you the truth, he’s pretty bad about it.”

  Jennifer chuckled. “I guess my son would say the same about me sometimes. I like to be free of technology every once in a while. It reminds me of the good old days.”

  “Fair enough.” The girl stabbed a fork into the corner of the pumpkin cheesecake, then splayed a bit of it over her tongue. She closed her eyes as she enjoyed the flavor of it. “Oh, my goodness. New York seriously has nothing on you guys. This is insane.”

  “It’s my mother’s old recipe. And she got it from her mother, who got it from her mother. It’s an old traditional recipe with some secret ingredients,” Jennifer said, flashing her smile.

  “As it should be.” The girl paused for a moment, her smile electric. “I’m Emma, by the way. I feel like I want to tell you that.”

  “I’m Jennifer. It’s wonderful to meet you.” Really, it was. Jennifer exhaled softly. She felt at-ease around the girl. Maybe it was the sadness in her eyes, which seemed to reflect her own feelings.

  Emma continued. “This is probably too much information, but I’ve been sobbing all day long. My fiancé just called off our wedding. He said he doesn’t know if he’s ready for marriage and has cold feet.”

  Jennifer’s heart sank. “Emma, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  “Yeah. Me too. It was a really big shock to the system. I’ve been dreaming about marrying him for years. But it’s true that he’s changed in the past few months. He—he got this job on Wall Street, and he seems really focused on his career. I think he’s worried that marrying me will take him away from his straight track toward success, or whatever.”

  “Success, or whatever,” Jennifer said, her nose scrunched. “It sounds like the kind of mistake he’ll look back on and regret for the rest of his life.”

  “I think so, too. But I’m left with all the broken pieces of a life I wanted to live with him,” Emma breathed. After a moment, she squinted and then said, “I can’t help but think that maybe he was cheating on me. Maybe he got bored of me. Maybe I—”

  “I don’t think you should think about it like that,” Jennifer replied. “It’s obvious to me, even though you’re a perfect stranger—that you’re intelligent and beautiful and on top of the world. Whatever he’s feeling, it has nothing to do with you.”

  It was exactly the kind of thing Jennifer would have wanted to hear at that age. Heck, it was the kind of thing the girls had told her when she and Joel’s marriage had crumbled to pieces.

  Emma’s smile widened as her eyes shimmered. “Thank you for saying that. Really. I can’t even explain how much it means to me.”

  Jennifer stayed with the girl until she finished up her pumpkin cheesecake and finally received a call from her dad. Emma rose and gave Jen a big hug, then said, “Merry Christmas, Jennifer. I hope you have a beautiful one.”

  The bell jangled as the girl departed. Jennifer crossed and uncrossed her arms as Olivia appeared beside her to watch the girl saunter down the road.

  “Who was that?” Olivia asked.

  “A girl just about as lost as me, I guess,” Jennifer said. “I hope I gave her some kind of hope. But to be honest, I don’t have very much of it left myself.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jennifer slipped hoop earrings through her ears and tilted her chin toward the mirror. The soft light of her lamp eased the small wrinkles and illuminated her skin. For the previous decade, she’d watched the looks of her twenties and thirties fade slightly into something else. Mila told her that aging was something she should be proud of, to embrace it, that the light lines were proof of time passed, experience and love, motherhood and all that jazz. Still, on the verge of meeting with Derek Thatcher — something she’d finally agreed to — Jennifer couldn’t help but take a second and a third glance and wonder, ‘Am I even beautiful enough to be wanted anymore?’

  Of course, her girls would have smacked her around if they knew she even gave power to such a thought. She looked at herself one last time and smiled before saying to her reflection, “You got this girl. You are smart and beautiful and will not let this bully take our bakery away!”

  It wasn’t that she wanted Derek Thatcher to be into her, exactly. She wanted to intimidate him in some capacity; that was for sure — wanted to declare her right to the Frosted Delights Bakery in a way that made him think twice about his plans to demolish it. He thought he was better than the Vineyard, thought he could knock them all around. Well, he didn’t know what or who he was dealing with.

  They had agreed to meet at a little Italian restaurant off of Main Street in Edgartown. He’d been the one to suggest it, once Jennifer had finally given word that she would attend, and this had given Jennifer immediate pause. Italian restaurant? That was a date-spot if anything. Wasn’t it?

  Jennifer wore a black dress. It was one of her classic ones, with the slightest cut down the center of her breasts. It hugged her hips beautifully and highlighted her feminine shoulders. She’d picked it out with Mila once, about five years before, but hadn’t found many reasons to wear it. Not as a wife and mother.

  But she supposed she wasn’t really either of those things anymore. Not day-to-day, anyway.

  Jennifer arrived at the restaurant about three minutes after their agreed-upon time. She felt uneasy on her heels, and her hair was slightly damp with the recent snowfall. She announced herself to the hostess, who said, “Of course. He’s right this way.”

  The restaurant was bustling. It was only a week before Christmas, and families were in full celebration mode. Husbands and wives toasted the year they had spent together; children ate clumsily, with spaghetti sauce across their lips. Everyone seemed about two seconds from gut-busting laughter. All of it reminded Jennifer of long-ago Christmases — not the one she currently found herself in.

  A dying bakery. An ill mother. A drunken father. A divorce.

  She spotted Derek Thatcher before he saw her. This gave her some kind of upper hand, she thought, although the moment he drew his eyes toward hers, she felt as though she’d been punched in the stom
ach. Gosh, he was handsome. His dark hair was swept behind his ears, and his dark eyes seemed to drop back into infinity, like black holes. He stood, like a gentleman, and greeted her with a warm handshake.

  “Good evening, Jennifer,” he said. “Thank you so much for meeting me.”

  His voice was deep, broad, the kind of thing Jennifer could have fallen into. She made sure her lips didn’t curve into any sort of smile as she said, “Hello,” and dropped his hand like it was a cold piece of fish.

  She sat across from him and watched as he ordered them a bottle of wine, one he said was his favorite from the Tuscany region of Italy. Jennifer had never been to Italy; how could she have managed that? She’d had a kid at eighteen; Nicholas had only just aged out of her life a few years ago.

  “Impressive you know so much about Italian wine,” she said as the waiter poured them each a glass.

  “I can hear the sarcasm in your voice,” he said. “I get it. It was an arrogant thing to say.”

  Jennifer heard herself laugh — a betrayal of what she really felt! But still, there was something refreshing about this guy’s admittance to his arrogance. She hadn’t expected it.

  Suddenly, there was another voice, off to the side.

  “Jen. Hey.”

  Jennifer’s eyes flashed to the right to find none other than Max. Her heart dropped along with her smile. Nothing about this man — not twenty-three years after the fact — gave her an ounce of pleasure. She felt as though she had entered some kind of horrible nightmare.

  After all, he’d been the guy driving the boat the night of the accident. He had only been seventeen, just like the rest of them. He had been drunk, just like most of them. But Jennifer had never really managed to look at him, let alone speak to him since it all had happened.

  And he seemed to be there with his wife and daughter. How pleasant for him.