Baking From The Hart

by Laurie LeClair

  “My dad’s not like that. He’s all about family, keeping it together, making it work, and passing it down to the next generation.”

  That sounded like a slice of heaven to her. “My dad. Not so much. Stepmother. Nope. Even my sister-in-law. Walked away.”

  “Seriously? From Lola?” Shock vibrated in his voice.

  “Hard to believe, isn’t it?” How were they going to break it to the little girl when she started asking questions in a few years?

  He cursed.

  It made Gretchen smile. “Thanks. I wish I could say that.”

  “Who could do that?”

  “Seems impossible.” This time she sighed, long and heavy. “No matter what, I’ll always be here for her. Pretty great reason to get up in the morning and keep trying, don’t you think?”

  Noah sucked in a sharp breath. “God, you’re brilliant, Gretch! Has anyone ever told you that before?”

  “Not lately.” She chuckled.

  “Listen, I’ve got to call my sister back and tell her.”

  “Tell her what exactly? That I’m brilliant?” She sat up in bed, held the phone away, frowned at it, and then pulled it back to her ear.

  “See you in a few hours. Gotta go, sweetheart.”

  Sweetheart?

  The line went dead and the buzz blasted. Gretchen groaned. That’s not the only thing that’s buzzing right about now!

  Chapter 10

  “Why hadn’t I thought of it?” Noah muttered as he patiently waited for Bethany to answer. In the plush hotel room with amazing views of downtown Dallas, Noah stared out at the city lights and quiet streets.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Bethany’s voice mumbled over the line. “Are you dead? Hurt?”

  “No, sis. I’m better than ever.” He was. That surprised him. On little sleep and a shot of adrenaline, he felt like burning off some pent-up energy.

  “That’s disgusting. Go back to bed, brother, and then call me back after you figure out the rest of us need our sleep.”

  “Who’s that? Noah?” his brother-in-law mumbled in the background. A baby’s cry pierced the line. “Daddy’s here. Come on…”

  “Thanks, babe.” Her sigh rushed down the line. “And no thanks to you, the babies are awake.”

  “You still doing that family bed thing?” He shuddered, wondering how any of them survived a night compressed together. Never mind the lack of privacy and romance. God only knew how she was going to get the third baby like that or the army of kids she’d planned on creating.

  “Unlike you, who claims he’ll never marry…”

  “Talking about that—”

  “What?” She seemed to come fully awake now. “And I haven’t even told you yet women are emailing the winery like crazy and proposing to you. No need now, right? You’re getting married? Tell me you’ve come to your senses.”

  “Whoa! Slow down. Not mine. Mom and Dad’s.”

  Bethany grunted. “That’s nonexistent. Don’t you recall the last ten agonizing years of our lives?”

  “All right, it’s more of a solution to the nagging problems of their post-divorce wars.”

  “Do tell!”

  “Trust fund.”

  “Huh? Wait, I need to shake some sleep out of my head so I can take in this enormous newsflash that couldn’t wait until a decent hour of the day. Oh yeah, they’re already in place.” Her sarcasm dripped over the line.

  “Does Daryl know you have an evil side to you in the mornings? Surely he doesn’t if he tied himself to you for life.”

  She snorted. “He actually loves me just the way I am.”

  “Wow! Who knew he was a saint?” He chuckled when she gave him a raspberry. “Back to the trust fund. We set it up for the heirs—specifically the grandkids and great-grands and so on of Mom and Dad. How can she refuse that? She adores your two rug rats. She’d look petty and greedy if she refuses to tuck away the bulk of the assets for them. And instead of siphoning off money from the vineyard to use as capital in a rival winery as she threatens, we at least keep it in the family.”

  “Noah, I can’t believe she wants to strike at the heart of Blackstock’s.”

  “More like at Dad’s heart.”

  A blanket of silence rained down for a few seconds. “It will take more attorneys and money to get that set up. I’ll talk to Dad first thing.”

  “It’s only fair.”

  “Not if you don’t have kids. A true Blackstock needs to be one of the heirs. You, brother mine, need to start procreating. And fast.”

  “Not going there with you, Bethy.” But what she said did hit home.

  A flash of Gretchen tenderly holding Lola came and went. She’s always there. On the fringes of my thoughts.

  Being around the King family these last days, a sense of duty had beamed bright. Carrying on a name wasn’t the objective. However, continuing with a dream for the family had.

  After generations of passing down the winery, Noah remained the last male Blackstock. Could he break with tradition? Something hard and sharp stabbed him behind his ribcage. Did he dare squash age-old family dreams?

  ***

  Gretchen’s movements were slow and awkward. “Operating on less than five hours of sleep a night, girl,” she mumbled, putting a fresh tray of cherry Danish in the top oven.

  Her thoughts dashed to Noah. Well, what was new with that anyway?

  “You could just not call, not look so darn sexy, and quit making me like you.” Okay, was she sleep-talking now?

  The sound of the key in the lock made her jump. “Harrison?” The back door of the bakery squeaked open.

  “Hey.” Jana, her baking assistant, avoided her gaze. Her rumpled short hair and puffy red eyes gave it away.

  “What’s up? Feeling better?”

  She shrugged. The petite, dark-haired woman grabbed her apron hanging on a hook near the door and quickly tied it around her small waist.

  “You take the cookies today?” All Gretchen would like to do was bake, not talk. Having someone obviously upset didn’t bode well for her quiet time. The vibe pulsed in and around them. She groaned inwardly.

  Jana set up the cookie station, pulling bowls in front of her and the ingredients for coconut macaroons within hand’s reach.

  Jitters raced in Gretchen’s veins. The hairs on the back of her neck stood. She bit her tongue as she stirred the glaze for the Danish treats.

  The sounds of Jana mixing should have soothed them both. It didn’t. The air crackled.

  Gretchen could never recall a time in the last two years since she’d hired Jana that this awkward tension sat between them. Even in their silences, it had been easy and companionable.

  Minutes stretched to a half hour. Like a bow about to break, Gretchen halted. “Okay, what gives? You’ve beat that sugar cookie dough to a pulp.”

  A sob burst out and then Jana choked it back. “I didn’t…mean to.”

  “To what?”

  “Gretch, you know me, right? I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

  Her tear-streaked face gave Gretchen a kick in the chest. “Jana, what is it?”

  “I’m…I’m in the baking contest.”

  “King’s?” Okay, her heart did stop for a beat. “But, when? How?”

  “I entered. I did it for Just Desserts. I swear I did. Harrison doesn’t believe me. He…he’s so mad at me he’s spitting nails.”

  She shook her head. “How again?” And her brother knew about it and didn’t tell her?

  “The ad. It was sitting there on the counter for days. I figured you wouldn’t have the guts. Sorry, Gretch, but you’re not the most adventurous person.” She cried again, took a deep breath, and then went on. “So I went and submitted my entry form in my name. I made the amateur individual cuts.”

  Blinking, Gretchen tried to take it in. “That’s great, Jana. You’re a terrific baker.”

  “I’ve been at the warehouse, the overflow entries, in competition. They’ve whittled it down to seven of us, s
o we get to join you guys at the store.”

  “The finals…” Her lips were numb; her mind, too. Then dawning struck. “You haven’t been sick, have you?”

  “Nooooooo.” Big, fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “Sick with guilt over doing it. Then they called to tell me I made it and—I feel so horrible, Gretch, I couldn’t face you.”

  “Until today.”

  “I still can’t. But when I called last night, Harrison told me how bad it was here, how shorthanded you were and the van is going to cost a small fortune to fix.”

  Her insides shook so bad. Or was that the outsides making the insides quiver and quake? Either way, Gretchen had all she could do to keep standing. “I need a few minutes.” Holding onto the cool surface of the island, she moved away. It felt like ages before she collapsed in her worn-out chair and nudged the door closed. The tiny office walls closed in on her.

  Shock reverberated in her head. Over the years, she’d been careful of who she let into her world.

  Being lied to growing up caused her untoward hurt. Harrison and she clung together as they were shipped from their father and to their stepmother’s nasty aunt’s house. Years later, they may have left that all behind, but the pain of losing faith in others was still harbored in a deep-seated place inside her.

  Someone always let them down.

  Trust no one, they’d vowed as kids.

  When they slipped up and went against it, they paid dearly. Look at Harrison’s ex-wife. From sweet and loving to unrecognizable in a few short months. She’d changed. Or perhaps that was her true colors and he didn’t bother to look closer.

  Now Jana.

  Had she been conniving? Or was she telling the truth?

  Blowing out a breath, Gretch watched as the papers on the corkboard shifted at the sudden rush of air. The order sheets settled and blared back at her. The dates and times mocked her. So many treats, so little time.

  “Never gonna get this done on my own,” she muttered. “And Harrison can’t bake, so that leaves him out.”

  The obvious answer struck her over the head. “No choice, right?” Hefting herself out of the creaky chair, she took one teeny step, and then opened the door. Tight, angry voices in the kitchen stopped her cold.

  “Save your apologies, Jana,” Harrison spat out. Metal pans and racks jarred together.

  “I should have said something before. It’s just…well, I didn’t think I was good enough. I figured I’d be out before the first round was over.”

  He snorted. “You? You’re almost as good as Gretchen.”

  “You think?”

  “Oh, now you’re fishing for compliments?”

  “She taught me everything I know. I owe her, all right? I did this for Gretchen and Just Desserts and Lola and…you.”

  Silence yawned.

  Gretchen peeked. Harrison stood stock-still, gripping the edge of the counter, drilling Jana with a fierce glare.

  “It’s true.” Jana’s whispered words seemed to dance in the air.

  “You lie.”

  “I don’t know why I feel the way I do, but I…care for you, Harrison.”

  Another wave of shock washed over Gretchen. Jana? The girl adored Lola and offered to babysit every chance she got. But her brother? Now, that was news to both of them. Or was it? Harrison moved to Jana, swiftly and surely.

  “It’s that kiss, wasn’t it?” His hands landed on her upper arms. “That was a mistake.”

  “Not for me,” Jana insisted. “That’s when I knew for sure.”

  “You’re just a kid, barely able to know the difference between—”

  Jana pressed her lips against his, stopping the flow of words. Someone groaned.

  Ew! Gretchen slid back in the office and gingerly closed the door. She rested her shoulders against it, waiting for some kind of noise or something to let her know the coast was clear. Nothing. Ugh!

  In the meantime, she folded her arms over her chest and took stock. Reality meant the bakery couldn’t sustain itself like this. In-store sales were sluggish, to be kind. Free coffee and tea did not draw in the customers. And one small purchase added to another small one did not make for great business.

  The big orders, from companies and for events, were picking up steam. However, she barely had the manpower to fulfill the demand now. How could she grow Just Desserts if she couldn’t pay for more help?

  She had to admit being a part of the baking contest did get the bakery attention. During store hours, the phone rang nonstop with people begging for her to bake for their parties. Too little too late! Many had overlapped and she’d had to turn them down.

  “Time. If I only had more time. Or if only I could clone myself.”

  There was a commotion beyond the barrier of the door. Jumping, she scooted around, flung open the door, and marched out.

  Harrison was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Jana yanked back and scurried around him to get the pastries from the oven.

  “Everything good?” Gretchen halted, sensing a third party. “Noah?!”

  He smirked from the open doorway. Slowly, he came all the way in and closed it behind him. “So Harrison, how about you and me grabbing some coffee and finally catching up?”

  Her brother muttered something under his breath and headed toward the front of the bakery.

  Noah drew near her. He slowed to a crawl. “Good morning.” He dropped a featherlight kiss on her forehead. “Again.”

  A rush of sweet wonder washed over her. Gretchen touched the spot and watched him depart, taking in the strong shoulders, nipped-in waist, and sexy butt in his well-worn jeans.

  Jana giggled. “At least I’m not the only one infatuated.”

  Turning back, she said, “Men are dangerous creatures. Bad for the heart.” She meant it.

  “I’ll say.” The wistfulness echoed in her words.

  “You hid that, too.” How could she stay mad at Jana if the girl had feelings for Harrison and Lola?

  The huge sigh bounced around the room. “Don’t worry. He thinks I’m too young and impressionable. And a liar. Three strikes against me.”

  That brought Gretchen up short; hadn’t she said she had three strikes with Danny, Max, and then Noah? “Look, Jana, it’s going to take some time to adjust for me.” You think? “I can’t fault you for wanting more and entering the contest. Who would sneeze at ten g’s?”

  “And the show.”

  “Show?”

  “Yeah, you get your own show on King’s YouTube channel. Didn’t you know that’s part of the prize?”

  Gulping hard, Gretchen’s blood chilled. She shook her head. Somehow she’d skipped over that part; she’d focused on the money, not the other obligations included.

  “I’d love that part.” Jana gushed. “Teaching people. Connecting with them. Just like you did for me, one on one, but now it would be thousands at a time, maybe millions.”

  “Mill…ions?”

  “Isn’t that cool?”

  Not in the least! Her slip of stage fright just grew by leaps and bounds.

  Fear at messing up again—this time bigger and more humiliating for her and Charlie, King’s owner and the woman who’d given her the exemption into the contest—blasted through her pounding skull.

  Oh, crud!

  Chapter 11

  Noah approached the tiny white table with caution. He slid the freshly brewed cup of coffee Harrison’s way. Taking a seat across from the brooding man, Noah stirred a teaspoon of sugar in his own cup.

  “Not talking?”

  “What’s to say?”

  “Good. Women were simpler to understand back in our college days—studying, partying, having fun, right? And I hate hashing this kind of stuff out with my sisters, too, so let’s call it done—”

  “She’s impossible.”

  Uh oh! “So I have this job I’d like you to do for me.”

  “But Lola adores her.”

  “It’s for the winery.”

  He fisted his hand and p
ounded it on the tabletop, causing the cups to jump. “Two years! How can someone show you one side for so long and then another?”

  Repressed anger didn’t seem a problem here. “I thought maybe use a couple of aged wine barrels for the ends.”

  “Gretchen took her under her wing. Brought her in and showed her the recipes, how to bake, everything. And this is how she repays her—by going behind her back and entering the baking contest?”

  His chest clutched for Gretchen. Competition from the home front! That’s got to hurt. He glanced to the back, but only caught a glimpse of Gretchen moving about. He pressed on. “With the Blackstock logo in the center.”

  “And me? She practically threw herself at me the other night.” He rubbed a hand over his tired features. “So happy I was back home. How could I not kiss her?”

  “You can make it here or come out to the winery and do it. It might do you good to get away to the hill country. Your choice.”

  “God, I liked it, too!” Harrison eyed him. “How could I? You’d think I’d have learned the first time with a wife who vanishes two weeks after Lola’s born, only to get Dear John divorce papers in the mail. I’m not the rich guy she assumed I was. No money. Not hanging around.”

  Something cold and hard stuck in Noah’s throat. “So you’ll do it, then?”

  “If you don’t have anything to say, then what are you doing here?”

  Confronted, Noah met his sturdy gaze. “I’m sorry you’re going through this, Harrison.”

  He dropped his head in his hand and blew out a breath. “Get me the measurements and I can start on some designs for you.”

  “You shouldn’t compare them, you know?”

  “I can get the logo off your winery website.”

  “Ever think it may be you? Expecting the worst from women?” With a vindictive mother like yours, you should know, Blackstock! Her actions had been his compass with gauging all women. Wow, talk about a dose of icy realization crashing down on you! His hand shook as he reached for his coffee. Too bad it wasn’t some Blackstock wine!

  “Just let me know the timeframe. I’m assuming sooner rather than later.”