Snowflake Sweethearts

by Turansky, Carrie

  Alex glanced at Annie and back at Jason. “I’m not sure we’re ready for that yet.” The idea of working with Jason on the project didn’t sit right with him.

  Jason held up his hand. “There’s no obligation. I’ll just take a look and run some numbers. It won’t bother me if you decide to go with someone else.”

  “We’re still working on the business plan, and we don’t have all the financing in line yet.”

  “That’s okay. Maybe if you show me what you’ve worked out so far I can help you finalize your plans and give you an idea how much it will cost to finish the project.”

  “That’s certainly a nice offer,” Irene added, sending Alex a pointed look. “Thank you, Jason.”

  “I’ve got some time tomorrow afternoon if you want me to stop by, say one o’clock?”

  “Wonderful!” Irene clasped her hands under her chin. “I’ve been praying God would send us some help and keep us moving in the right direction.”

  Annie nodded. “The sooner we get started, the sooner we can reopen.”

  Jason sent Annie an appreciative smile. “Great. I’ll see you tomorrow at one at the bakery.”

  “We’ll all be there,” Irene added with a cheery smile.

  Alex stifled a groan. Jason seemed awfully eager to offer his advice on the project. Maybe he was short of work and hoping for a contract, or maybe it had more to do with the way he was eyeing Annie. Either way, it looked as if Alex had been outvoted and outmaneuvered by his grandmother and Annie—again. Whether he liked it or not, they’d be meeting with Jason tomorrow.

  Chapter Ten

  Annie took Irene’s arm and watched Alex pull away from the curb in front of the bakery. He had dropped her and Irene off, saying he’d drive around the block and park in back since there were no parking spaces close by.

  Something was definitely bothering Alex. He’d been quiet and tense all morning, and that slight crease between his eyebrows was beginning to look like a permanent feature.

  Was he worried about the unknown factors in their business plan? Did he think his grandmother was taking on too much too soon? Or was it something else? There was no way of knowing unless Alex decided to confide in her, and so far he’d kept whatever it was to himself.

  A pang of disappointment shot through her heart. She thought they’d been growing closer, but apparently she was wrong.

  Fine. She could deal with that. In fact, it was probably for the best. There was no sense opening up to each other and deepening their friendship when he would be leaving soon for San Francisco.

  She put those thoughts aside, pulled open the door and escorted Irene into the bakery. The bell jingled overhead,

  and the aroma of fresh-baked bread and coffee brewing greeted them.

  Janelle Crandall, Irene’s assistant at the bakery, placed a tray of doughnuts on the counter. “Oh, my goodness, look who’s here!” The plump redhead rushed around the bakery case and wrapped Irene in a tight hug. Janelle’s twinkly blue eyes squeezed shut, and a look of pure delight filled her face.

  Seeing the affection between the two women lifted Annie’s spirit.

  Janelle finally let go of Irene and stepped back. “It’s so good to see you. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m coming along. Still a little tired, but each day I’m feeling stronger. The doctor says I can start the cardiac rehab program next week.”

  Janelle grinned and patted Irene’s shoulder. “Good for you.”

  Harry walked in from the kitchen wearing his black ball hat and white apron over his clothes. He wiped his hands on a towel and greeted Irene with another hug. “Look at you, all fresh and new.”

  Irene chuckled. “Well, I don’t know about that, but at least I’m on my feet and walking around.”

  Alex came in the back door, passed through the kitchen and joined them. That worried crease still marked the area between his eyebrows as he looked around the bakery. His gaze connected with Annie’s for a split second then moved away.

  A nervous quiver passed through Annie’s stomach. She wished he’d tell her what was wrong. Maybe he would’ve if there’d been more time to talk this morning, but Irene had been with them since breakfast.

  Irene clasped her hands in front of her heart and looked around the group. “I have some good news.” Harry and Janelle watched her expectantly. “We’re moving ahead with our plans to remodel the bakery.”

  “Yes!” Harry pumped his fist in the air.

  “Oh, I just knew you wouldn’t close us down.” Janelle danced over and hugged Irene again.

  “We may have to close for a few weeks, but that’s so we can give Jameson’s a brand-new look and menu.” She glanced at her watch, then looked out the front window. “Jason Hughes, a contractor from my church, should be here any minute. He’s going to look at our plans and then give us an estimate on the job.”

  “So he’ll be the one to hire all the workmen and oversee everything?” Janelle asked.

  Irene nodded. “That’s right.”

  Alex held up his hand. “We’re not sure about that yet. We’re looking for his input as a professional, someone who can help us evaluate the costs and feasibility of the project. We haven’t decided we’re going to hire him yet.”

  “That’s true,” Irene said. “But I have a very good feeling about this. I checked with a few people, and everyone I talked to praised his work.”

  Alex’s frown deepened, and he crossed his arms. “Who did you call?”

  “Pastor James. He said Jason has overseen several jobs for families in the church, and he’d never heard anything but positive reports.”

  Alex huffed. “Of course he’s going to say that. He’s a pastor. He can’t pass on negative reports about people.”

  Annie pressed her lips together as her gaze darted from Alex to Irene. Alex’s intensity was making her uncomfortable, and no doubt it was doing the same to Irene. She sent Alex a warning look, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  Janelle brushed some crumbs off one of the tables. “So what kind of changes do you want to make?”

  Irene took the file from her bag and laid it on the table in front of Harry and Janelle. “We want to update everything and give the bakery a whole new look. We’ll keep the name, but call it Jameson’s Bakery Café. Wait until you see these photos.”

  Alex motioned Annie to follow him across the room while Irene flipped through the pages, showing Harry and Janelle the plans.

  Annie met Alex by the bakery case. He leaned closer. “We’ve got to slow my grandmother down.” His urgent whisper sent a tremor through her.

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not comfortable with the idea of hiring Jason.”

  “Why not? Have you heard something negative about him?”

  “No, I just don’t think we should move so fast. We don’t know anything about the guy.”

  “I thought he was an old friend of yours.”

  “We played basketball together ten years ago. That’s all. I have no idea what he’s been doing since then. And why didn’t he explain what happened to his wife?”

  “Probably because his daughter was standing there. But how does that have any bearing on his work as a contractor?”

  “The way people handle their personal life says a lot about their character.”

  “Well, he goes to Grace Chapel, and one of the pastors recommends him. That sounds like a pretty good character reference to me.”

  Alex rubbed his chin. “Maybe. But I’d like to hear from some people who’ve actually hired him.” He leaned closer. “Who knows? The guy could be a crook.”

  Annie stifled a gasp. “Alex, I can’t believe you’d say that.”

  “Hey, I’m just trying to look out for my grandmother. I won’t be here, and I want to be sure we
hire someone who’s trustworthy.”

  Annie’s stomach clenched. She might not agree with everything Alex said, but one thing was true: he wouldn’t be around during the renovation project. She and Irene would be the ones dealing with whomever they chose as the contractor. That was a big responsibility.

  The bell jingled as the door swung open. Jason walked in, wearing a brown suede jacket and well-worn jeans and carrying a clipboard. “Afternoon, friends.” He nodded to Irene, then turned his warm smile toward Annie. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, returning his smile.

  Alex leaned closer. “Remember, this is just an estimate. Don’t make any commitments.”

  She pulled in a deep breath and nodded, but she didn’t look him in the eye.

  * * *

  Emma pointed to a drawing of a turkey on the bulletin board of her kindergarten classroom. “That’s mine, way up there by the top.” She turned to Alex. “Can you get it for me?”

  “Are we supposed to take it down?” he asked.

  Emma bobbed her head. “My teacher said we could take it home after the program.”

  “Okay, here you go.”

  She glanced at the drawing for a second then handed it to her mom.

  Annie examined the picture. “I like the way you colored all the feathers.”

  “Good job, Emma.” He took a sip of warm apple cider, savoring the sweet, spicy drink.

  Coming with Annie to Emma’s Thanksgiving program had stirred up old memories. He hadn’t been in a kindergarten classroom since he’d walked out of his own twenty-four years ago. But not much had changed.

  Rolling carts piled high with wooden building blocks and Tinkertoys sat by the play area. Low bookshelves filled with a large collection of picture books lined one wall. He even saw a few titles he remembered. In the corner, a round table featured a collection of rocks, pinecones, plants and a fish tank with several goldfish. Colorful finger paintings covered the doors of the coat closet.

  He could see why Emma loved coming to school. The room had a happy, busy feeling, and he imagined a lot of creative learning happened here every day.

  “You’re becoming quite an artist.” Annie slipped her arm around her daughter’s shoulders.

  “Mrs. Carlton said my turkey was good.”

  “She’s right.” Annie grinned and tapped Emma on the nose. “We’ll have to add it to our Thanksgiving decorations.”

  “Can we put it on the table?”

  Alex chuckled. “I think Gram would like that.”

  “When are we going to make pumpkin pie?” Emma asked.

  “We’ll work on that later today.”

  “Good.” Emma looked around the room. “Can I get another cookie?”

  “All right.” Annie gave her an indulgent smile.

  “Bring me one, too,” Alex called. “I like those gingersnaps.”

  Emma looked over her shoulder and smiled at him, then headed for the refreshment table.

  Alex chuckled and shook his head. “She is something else.”

  Mrs. Carlton, Emma’s teacher, wove her way through the crowd toward them. “Hello, Mrs. Romano. Good to see you again.” She turned and smiled at Alex, then held out her hand. “Mr. Romano, I’m so glad you could come. Emma has told us so much about you.”

  Alex blinked and opened his mouth, but his reply stuck in his throat. His gaze darted to Annie.

  Her face flamed crimson. “Oh...I should’ve made the introductions. This is our friend Alex Jameson. He’s not Emma’s father.”

  Confusion flashed in Mrs. Carlton’s eyes. “I’m sorry. You look exactly the way Emma described her father.”

  Annie lifted her hand to her throat and adjusted the scarf around her neck. “I’m not sure what Emma told you about her father, but he isn’t really involved in her life.”

  “Oh, dear.” The teacher’s lips pinched together. “I must’ve misunderstood what she said. I’m sorry.”

  “No need to apologize.” Annie looked as if she wanted to say more.

  But Emma returned carrying a small plate of cookies. She held it out to Alex. “I got two cookies for you.”

  “Thanks, Emma.” He helped himself and took a bite, more to keep his mouth occupied than to enjoy the treat.

  “Well, I need to go say hello to some of the other parents.” Mrs. Carlton stepped back. “I hope you have a nice Thanksgiving.” She gave Annie a serious look. “After the holiday, I’d appreciate it if you give me a call. I’d like to meet with you.”

  “I’ll email you to set up a time.”

  “That’ll be fine.” Mrs. Carlton looked down at Emma. “I hope you and your mother have a nice Thanksgiving.” But the warmth had gone out of her voice.

  “Okay.” Emma popped the rest of the cookie in her mouth.

  Annie placed her hand on Emma’s shoulder. “I think it’s time for us to go.”

  Emma frowned and looked around. “But no one else is going.”

  Annie steered her daughter toward the coat closet. “I need to drive Irene to a hair appointment, and we have to bake our pumpkin pie.”

  “I can take Gram to get her hair done.” Alex’s gaze connected with Annie’s for a second before she looked away. “Sounds like you and Emma could use some time together.”

  Annie turned away and helped Emma with her coat. “No, I’ll take Irene. You have to meet with Harry about the wholesale order.”

  “I can stop at the bakery after I drop off Gram. She can give me a call when she’s done, and I’ll pick her up on the way home.”

  They walked outside in silence and crossed the parking lot to Annie’s car. Discomfort swirled through Alex’s stomach. Annie was avoiding looking at him, pulling back. Was she afraid he was upset with her, or was she just embarrassed by Emma’s comments to her teacher?

  Annie opened the back passenger door for Emma. Her daughter hopped up on her booster seat. Annie reached in to help her buckle her seat belt, then shut the door and walked around the back of the car.

  Alex followed her. “Annie, wait.”

  She turned to face him. “I’m sorry...about Mrs. Carlton, and Emma.” The vulnerable look in her eyes cut through him. She lowered her head and released a deep sigh. “I’ll talk to Emma about it.”

  His heart contracted. He reached out and lifted Annie’s chin. “Hey, it’s okay.”

  Tears gathered in her eyes. “No. It’s not. She shouldn’t be making up stories about her father.”

  “She’s only five.”

  “That’s no excuse.”

  “Maybe if you told her the truth, she wouldn’t have to make up a story.”

  Annie froze, her eyes wide. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  She shook her head and stepped away. “I just can’t.”

  He drew in a deep breath and released it quietly. Would she ever trust him enough to tell him the rest of the story?

  Chapter Eleven

  Annie scuffed into the kitchen wearing blue fuzzy slippers and carrying her laptop. The delicious scent of pumpkin pie floated in the air as she poured herself a cup of coffee. She sat down at the kitchen table to keep an eye on the pie while it finished baking. She couldn’t let it burn, not after she and Emma had worked so hard to roll it, fill it and pinch the edge into perfection.

  She glanced toward the hallway and smiled, remembering how Emma had protested going to bed before the pie came out of the oven. But Annie told her she could get up as early as she liked on Thanksgiving morning to see it.

  For some reason that worked. Emma settled down, pulled the blanket up to her chin and closed her eyes, looking eager to drift off so morning would hurry up and arrive.

  Annie’s thoughts shifted to Mrs. Carlton’s comments a
fter Emma’s class program, and her smile faded. The teacher’s assumption that Alex was Emma’s father wouldn’t have been so bad if Emma hadn’t described her father as looking exactly like Alex.

  Annie recalled his startled reaction, then cringed and lowered her head into her hands. He must think she’d been hinting to Emma that he’d make a great dad. She couldn’t deny that exact idea had run through her mind several times, but she hadn’t said a word to Emma.

  Was her daughter picking up clues that she had feelings for Alex...or worse yet, was Alex?

  She would have to be much more careful and keep her distance over the next four days. Then Alex would leave and the problem would be solved...or would it?

  Alex thought she should tell Emma the truth about her father, but he had no idea how difficult that would be. There was no way to frame the story to make it less hurtful or humiliating.

  What could she say about Kevin Seagraves? It had been six years since she’d seen him.

  The memory of Brianna’s comments about Kevin’s arrest for embezzlement sent a sick wave of dread through her.

  Was it true? Had he really stolen money from his company? Several times she’d been tempted to look for information about him online, but she’d always talked herself out of it...until tonight.

  Maybe it was time she found out the truth, but she didn’t want Irene or Alex to know.

  She tiptoed over to the doorway and peeked through the dining room into the living room. Irene sat in the recliner with her feet up, watching an old musical from the 1950s. Alex was stretched out on the couch reading the newspaper.

  She crept back to the table and typed Kevin’s name in the internet search box.

  Her heart hammered in her ears. Links to several websites popped up on the screen with Kevin’s name highlighted. She clicked on the first article from the Eugene Register-Guard Newspaper.

  A photo of Kevin flashed on the screen, and a soft gasp escaped her lips. He looked much the same, but his hollow-eyed, sorrowful expression sent a chill through her.

  The story was dated mid-October, and the headline read Ex-Credit Union Manager Guilty of Embezzlement.