by Scott, D. D.
“It was too a date,” Gemma said ignoring the necklace. “I think you just don’t want to admit it because you bombed so miserably.” For added emphasis, Gemma clucked her tongue before contorting her face into a grimace.
“Even if it was a date, which I insist it wasn’t—we merely went out for a drink—that was over three years ago. He’s not going to ask me out, and even if he did, I’m still getting over Kevin.” Draping the necklace around her wrist, Wynn moved onto a table of Christmas figurines. She picked one up and inspected it.
Gemma took the dancing Christmas bear out of Wynn’s hand and gave her a look that said, “no.” Among the many things Gemma despised, she harbored a particular hatred for animated animals dressed like people. “Zane likes you, I can tell. You’re just too clueless to notice. What did he say the other day? Once you find the best, you keep coming back for more. Everything else dulls in comparison? He was totally talking about you.”
Sighing, Wynn eyed the long line at the check-out and made her way to the back, resigning herself to wait more than twenty minutes. “He was not talking about me. He was talking about my pie.”
Gemma shook her head and looked at Wynn like she was insane. “You, your pie, what’s the difference? Anyway, the point is, he wants you.”
Wynn laughed in response as she leafed through the armload of clothes and other gifts she was readying to purchase.
With one hand perched on her hip, Gemma glared at her. “You know what your problem is? You’re so scared that someone like Zane would be, even remotely, interested in you.”
“What? That’s ridiculous.”
“No, you are. Let me see.” She counted off her fingers. “You think he’s too good looking for you, too charming, too successful, and just all around, completely out of your league. Am I right?”
“Well, yes. But he is, and that’s okay. There’s a difference between the ‘I-can-always-dream man.’” Wynn made air quotes with her fingers. “And the ‘real-love-of-your-life man.’”
A frown replaced Gemma’s smug smile. “Okay, that’s complete bullshit, but even if that’s true, Kevin was certainly not the love of your life. He was a schmuck—with bad hair.”
“I liked his hair,” Wynn mumbled.
Gemma ignored her and continued. “You like Zane, really like him. Hell, what bakery makes pumpkin pie year round? That’s just weird,” she said, scrunching up her face. “But you do because its Zane’s favorite. In fact, now that I’m assessing your infatuation for him, I would even say your head over heels crazy about him…and not just because he could pose for the cover of a Calvin Klein underwear ad—which I would totally pay money to see, by the way—but because, for the last five years, you guys have participated in some kind of weird, flirty, get-to-know-you relationship. The only reason you’re all freaked out now is because you just broke up with Mr. Pecker a couple months ago and you’re back on the market. You’re available for Zane to pick you up.”
Wynn started to speak, but Gemma interrupted, raising her finger. “In fact, your dating Mr. Pecker right after your failed date with Zane is quite the coincidence. You were running then, and you’re running now.”
“Would you please stop referring to Kevin as Mr. Pecker?” Anxiety gnawed in Wynn’s gut. Wynn opened her mouth for a moment then closed it. Was Gemma right? Had she really just been scared all this time? No, she couldn’t be. Before she had the chance to further analyze her feelings, however, her gaze froze on something in the distance.
Wynn’s breath caught in her throat. Zane was here, and next to him stood a woman who rivaled a young Cindy Crawford. The woman stopped and sniffed at a bottle of Gucci’s latest perfume. Figures.
Wynn let her shock roll off like rivulets of stale water. She could use this to her advantage. She nudged Gemma, who was meticulously applying a fresh coat of lip gloss, then pointed to the couple. “See. I told you he wasn’t interested in me. He’s already got a girlfriend.”
Gemma tucked her lip gloss back into her purse and stared at them with shrewd eyes, analyzing their every movement. “Hmm.”
The victory Wynn expected to feel at proving her point never came. Gemma’s response confirmed Wynn’s worst fears—that Zane wasn’t interested in her. The churning in her gut solidified the bubbling notion that deep down she really did care. She was just too scared to admit it for all the reasons Gemma had said.
Wynn’s stomach sank. She watched Zane lean in and give the woman a hug before leaving the department store, and, as a result, taking all the holiday cheer in Wynn with him.
Chapter Three
Zane plopped into the brown, leather sectional and twisted off the cap of his much needed Heineken. He took a deep drink, his eyes closed, thankful to be home from his meeting with Meredith, his ex-girlfriend. Seeing her brought back too many memories better left in the past. He couldn’t stand the sight of her any longer, let alone the sound of her high pitch laugh when she got nervous. Most of all, being around her reminded him of wasted time.
Popping a Frito into his mouth, he grabbed the remote and flicked on the television. He searched the guide, but nothing caught his attention. The programs barely even registered as his eyes grazed over the listings.
He recalled Meredith’s odd behavior at the mall, the way she kept touching his arm and gazing into his eyes, as if she were waiting for something—as if they were still a couple doing their holiday shopping. He shouldn’t have gone, he saw that now. But when he called to get the last of his things back from her apartment a week ago, she insisted he meet her out somewhere instead of just dropping them in the mail. Reluctant at first and trying to avoid any sort of face-to-face with her at all costs, he evaded her requests. But with the president of the firm breathing down his neck to retrieve files for a major client, he had no choice. Forced to acquiesce to her demands, he met her at the mall.
Zane shook his head and took another pull from his beer. How did he ever fall for her in the first place? She was selfish, conceited, and above all, disloyal. He had known that about her when they started dating, yet he went forward anyway. Why? What he really wanted back then, before he started seeing the self-righteous model, was someone down-to-earth, someone kind, a woman that enjoyed the little things in life. All he wanted was someone to talk to, spend lazy, rainy afternoons with, go to a movie, and share the holidays with. Zane wasn’t like most of the unmarried men at work. A string of one night stands and short lived, shallow relationships held no interest for him. He was ready to settle down. What he needed…what he wanted most, was someone like Wynn Murphy.
The salty chips scratched Zane’s tongue as he crunched on another handful. Though tasty, the snack provided little distraction from the analysis of his empty relationship with Meredith and the nonexistent one with Wynn. He had met Wynn five years ago, when she opened up her bakery and coffee shop right across the street from his office building. He had been swamped with work; files were piled high like skyscrapers on a desk devoid of free space. Hoping to win the executive position up for grabs had become a daily routine. Otherwise, he probably would have joined his coworkers at the local Starbucks, instead of taking a chance on the new shop.
His head pounded and his eyes screamed from staring at a computer screen all morning. With only a minute to spare, but desperately needing a caffeine jolt, he hurried out of the office and across the street.
He remembered his astonishment upon entering the first time. He walked in, hands in pockets and waited in line, glancing at his watch, monitoring the passing time and loss of productivity with growing agitation. When he stepped to the counter and glanced up, his breath caught in his throat. The woman’s glowing smile, her creamy skin, and gentle features caught him off guard.
He managed to break out of his momentary stupor and order his coffee. A commendable feat.
She retrieved the hot java and nodded to the pastry counter and display window. She brushed her long, brown hair out of her face, every time their eyes met. A nervous habit? He wasn’
t sure.
A smile spread across her soft features. “All baked goods are half off for our opening week,” she said.
Concentrating seemed a chore of Herculean effort, as he found himself incapable of coherent thought. “I’ll take a piece of pie,” he said, pointing to the first thing he saw.
While she wrapped him up a piece to go, Zane continued to stare at her like a love struck teenager. She was of average height, but small boned, with a delicate face—a small forehead, leading to a stub of a nose, and small pouty lips (reminding him of the baby dolls his little sister used to play with). The only thing prominent was her large blue eyes.
It wasn’t until he paid and she said, “The pumpkin pie is going fast today. Must be because of Thanksgiving,” that Zane realized what kind of pie he had chosen. “It’s my favorite,” he mumbled, unable to think of a more clever response.
He left the shop in a daze, the image of her soft smile warming him against the November chill. He admonished himself for his inability to make conversation with her. Next time, he promised himself, he would ask her name. He would find out something about her.
The beer warmed Zane’s stomach, along with the memory of seeing Wynn for the first time. He rose and went to the kitchen to retrieve another Heineken. He hated pumpkin pie, completely loathed it. But ever since that first day at the shop when he ordered it and told her it was his favorite, he didn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. He wanted to please her, which was why for the past five years, he had choked down too many pieces of pumpkin pie to count.
Chapter Four
The dimly lit bakery and the dark backdrop outside indicated the early hour. Traffic had not yet begun to accost the city streets, and the sidewalks were devoid of pedestrians.
After the last pedestal was cleaned, Wynn sat it back down on the counter in-between the tiered cupcake holder and a pewter tray, usually used to display an assortment of scones.
“There, all we need now is to fill them,” Wynn said to herself. The buzzer went off, signaling the baked goods for the display were finished and the gingerbread cakes and Christmas pie were ready to bake. Wynn hurried into the kitchen, mentally checking off an invisible “To-do” list for the day. It was the twenty-third of December, the last day open before they closed for Christmas and returned the twenty-seventh. They would be slammed. But over the course of the last five years, Wynn had learned what to expect for sales and baked accordingly. Christmas cookies were obviously a huge seller, as were any kind of pie and holiday flavored cakes, and even her gourmet cupcakes. Other items, like scones and muffins didn’t do as well, only selling to people who wanted a treat with their coffee on their way out the door to give them sustenance to finish their last minute shopping. The bulk of the work came from the holiday orders they took and doled out, but combined with the list of usual store front items, it was certainly a challenging task.
Wynn reached the kitchen and opened the large, stainless doors of the industrial oven, and began removing the hot trays of muffins and scones, placing them on a rack to cool. The back door creaked, opening with a blast of icy wind and a flurry of snow. Wynn glanced in the direction of the chill where Gemma rushed in, stomping her boots on the black throw rug to knock off the packed snow.
“Late as usual,” Wynn said, turning and handing her a cup of coffee.
Gemma screwed up her face and took a drink, then removed her heavy winter coat, better suited for the Michelin Man, and hung it on the rack by the door. “Only a sadist gets up at four in the morning to come to work and bake all day.” She blew her bangs out of her eyes and glared at Wynn, who chuckled and waved her away.
“We have a ton of orders this year, even more than the last. We have to get them done, along with the stuff to display and sell in the store to last minute customers expecting to be able to walk in and buy desserts for Christmas. And since you made me agree to catering the desserts for Zane’s work party, we have double the usual work load,” she said through a tight smile.
Gemma scoffed. “Oh, come off it. Like you don’t want to see Zane outside of this place. He’s not going to come here forever you know. Someday, he’s going to find himself a wife, one that’s not afraid to go after him and admit what she really wants. Since you’ve ignored his advances all these years, he’s going to eventually stop trying and succumb to said woman, which will then, consequently, cease his visits here. How do you explain why you, so religiously, come to a bakery with two of the most attractive women in town and flirt with the owner with lust-filled eyes?”
Color rose to Wynn’s cheeks. “First of all, he doesn’t look at me with lust-filled eyes…” The thought of Zane married, however, sat in the pit of her stomach like rotted fruit.
“Your opinion only,” Gemma said, her eyes downcast below arched brows. “Besides, business is business. How can you turn down a good gig? He paid you in advance, and now your name will be out there for all of the big wig’s attending this party to see. Chances are you’ll get more work from it down the road.”
Wynn sighed. Gemma was right.
With a knowing smile, Gemma stepped forward and rubbed Wynn’s arms, her voice softening. “We’ll get it all done—don’t stress—we always do.”
Wynn brightened. On a regular basis, Gemma was the epitome of a slacker, but when it came down to crunch time, she was the best person to have on your side. A work horse when she wanted to be, Gemma had a way of keeping her cool like no one Wynn had ever seen before. A prime example was the Bethany wedding. Wynn had spent all day and night preparing a seven layer wedding cake of exquisite detail—adorned in an array of gum paste flowers and fondant ribbon—only to find in the morning that the window next to the work table in the kitchen had been left open. Needless to say, they had a heavy rain the night before, and the cake looked far from the confectionary masterpiece it once was. Wynn had been a frantic mess. She envisioned calling a weeping bride to share the news. But Gemma came in and salvaged the cake, saving Wynn from the impending nightmare.
Gemma tied a black apron around her waist, and then clapped. “Okay, let’s get this show on the road. We have a Christmas party to attend.”
A groan rumbled in the back of Wynn’s throat, but she bit it back. She had given the incident in the mall last week, and the things Gemma said about her, a lot of thought. If she was being honest with herself (admittedly a struggle for her), there was a lot of validity to what Gemma said. Since the day Zane first walked into her store, she had been awe struck. Okay, maybe that wasn’t entirely true. Sure, she had been stricken by his gorgeous ice blue eyes, his raven hair, and the chiseled features of his face, but it was the exchanges throughout the next few weeks and following months that impressed her. Zane seemed to be that illusive creature women pined for, dreamed about. His charm endeared people to him, but in a subtle way. He was driven in his career and really cared about people.
Although they never dated, Wynn learned more about him in one short month than most couples after a year of dating. Their conversations over the span of five years ranged the gamut, from his career, to family, and weekend plans. Every other Thanksgiving, he donated his time to a local soup kitchen. He watched his nieces and nephews a week before Christmas, so his sister and sister-in-laws could do all their holiday shopping. And as if that wasn’t enough, he donated his professional services to local charities, helping them create effective advertisements to garner donations. Zane was the, quintessential, perfect man.
One year had passed before Zane asked Wynn out for drinks. He had been hinting at asking her out for months. Still, when he did, Wynn couldn’t believe it. She insisted to Gemma, that it wasn’t a date. That he merely wanted to have drinks with a friend because that was what he had become to her in the past year. But Wynn had been a ball of nerves, unable to force herself to relax the entire time. She had been sure she ruined her chances with him—if there were any chances to be had in the first place. Following their “outing” together, he had been absent from the bakery for over
a week, a sure sign to Wynn that he wasn’t interested. He probably thought she was neurotic. She pushed the hurt away, telling herself it didn’t matter to her, that it never mattered. One month later, Wynn found herself in a full-fledged relationship with Kevin—a liar and a cheat as it turned out.
So much for men. Who needed them anyway?
Wynn shook off the memories and focused on the task at hand. A giant sack of chocolate chips sat on the counter to her right. She grabbed them, along with the other needed ingredients, stacking them in a large metal bowl, and set them on the stainless steel work counter. “Okay, I’ve already got the dough for the sweet rolls mixed up, so I’m going to knead it again before the second rise, then I’m going to start baking the holiday cookie orders. Why don’t you start on the chocolate chip? I have a list of the different cookies and how many batches we have to make here,” she said, pointing above her head to a list taped to the supply racks.
Gemma, hands on hips, leaned forward and snatched the list. “Alright. I’m adding a batch for me though.”
“Whatever gets you to work and shut-up,” Wynn said with a saccharine smile
She removed the ring from her left hand—the large square Opal Kevin had given her. The one she had hoped someday would be replaced by an engagement ring. She placed it on the counter, off to the side of where she was working. The sheen of the gold winked at her in the light and had her hesitating. How could she ever have hoped for a proposal from him? Looking back, she realized she had never truly loved him. She should be grateful he cheated on her; otherwise, she may have ended up married to a man she didn’t really love.
“Do you think I should get rid of Kevin’s ring?”
“Um yeah, hello?”