by Karen Booth
They drove for several minutes in near silence, winding through the mountain roads, the sky pitch-black now. Alex’s grip on the steering wheel hadn’t loosened at all. His knuckles were a hard line of ripples across the tops of his hands. She glanced over and could see the fierce tension in his face, the way his jaw was tight and his brow furrowed.
“I’m sorry about that back there,” she said. “You really didn’t need to say anything. I would’ve been fine.”
“Don’t you dare apologize, Joy. He could’ve hurt you. No man should ever, ever touch a woman like that.”
The tone of his voice cut right through her. Tears welled in her eyes. He was absolutely right, but she hated feeling like this. She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t defenseless. Her mind struggled to find the right words, coming up with nothing. All she wanted to do was apologize again, make it go away, but she had nothing to be sorry for. She only wished that man hadn’t made his stupid pass, hadn’t had too much to drink.
“You’re right. No woman should ever have to be in that position, but that still doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself.”
“Would it have been better if I’d done nothing? What kind of man would I be if I sat back and watched a stranger touch a woman I care about deeply? I can’t even fathom being that person. If that’s what you want in a guy, then maybe I’m not the right one. Because all I know is, the instant I saw him touch you, my blood boiled over and I had to make it stop.”
Joy felt like her breath couldn’t find its way out of her chest. “Do you really mean that? That you care about me?”
A breathy laugh left his lips. “Yes, I care about you. What do you think today was? I want to spend time with you. You’re a breath of fresh air to me. You make me laugh. You have insightful things to say. You’re sweet. And you’re so damn sexy. I’d have to be a complete idiot to not care about you.” He reached over and placed his hand on hers. “I’m sorry if my temper got a little out of control, but this is my weak spot, and it’s a big one. I can control it most of the time, but if I’m pushed, all bets are off.”
What did he mean by that? Was he saying he had a problem? Because, if he did that was a nonstarter for her. “Weak spot?”
“It’s because of my mom.” He ran his hand through his hair, staring intently at the road ahead. The pain on his face was evident. More tension. More angst. “Or more specifically, it’s because of the way my dad treated my mom.”
The air in the car began to change. Alex’s anger was something quite different from what she had worried about. “Do you want to tell me about it? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I mean, I understand if we haven’t known each other long enough for you to tell me.”
Another frustrated laugh left his lips. “Does time really matter? Does it really matter that we’ve only known each other for a few days?” He looked right at her, his icy blue eyes penetrating her soul with so little effort. “You and I have talked about more in the last few days than I have ever talked about with another woman.”
A smile played at the corners of her lips. They had shared a lot. Or at least as much as she’d been able to divulge. “You’re right. You still don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“But that’s the thing. I want to tell you. I want to tell you everything.” He pulled up to the gate, rolled down his window and entered the code. The car zipped down the driveway and up to the garage. Alex put it in Park and turned to Joy. “I’m not going to sugarcoat it. My family was totally dysfunctional when I was a kid. My dad couldn’t keep it in his pants. He ignored my mom except when he needed a beautiful woman to parade around at a business dinner. When he did pay attention to her, he was verbally abusive. So she drank. To numb the pain, I guess. And as the oldest son, I tried to protect her. I wanted to. But I failed. I couldn’t get either of them to stop, and eventually she paid with her life.” His voice wobbled at the end, his anguish bubbling to the surface.
“I’m so sorry, Alex. You told me a little about this, but I had no idea it ended so tragically.”
Alex reached out and stroked her hair. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. Plenty of people have much sadder stories. The point of me telling you this is that I don’t want you to think badly of me because I flew off the handle at the parking garage. I think you know that I’m not always like that.”
“I do know that. And maybe that’s why it was upsetting. Just to see you be someone I didn’t think you were capable of being.”
He nodded slowly, taking it all in. “I can totally understand that. And I’m sorry for that part. You know, usually I just hide the ugly stuff in my past. Ignore it. Pretend like it’s not there. I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”
How could Joy’s heart feel simultaneously so heavy and yet so fundamentally happy? Alex was baring his soul to her in a way few people ever had. He cared. And she sure as hell cared right back. But there was still a barrier between them—she’d put it there and it was hers to take away.
But if she did knock down that wall, it would destroy every beautiful thing that was already between them. And since there was an end to their romance bearing down on them, she couldn’t stand the thought of sabotaging the rest of their time together. They had both needed this holiday affair. They had both needed each other, to heal, to see light. That didn’t happen nearly enough in life and she wasn’t about to throw that away.
She pulled Alex into a hug. “Come here.” She settled her head on his shoulder and ran her hand back and forth across his back, soaking up his warmth, never wanting this to end. “You can always tell me the ugly stuff. Always. Honestly, you can’t scare me. Just tell me the worst. I promise I won’t run away.”
Alex laughed and reared his head back. “Thank you for that. It means a lot. Truly.”
She smiled, feeling so much better. They’d had such an amazing day. “Ready to go inside?”
He nodded. “With you? Always.”
Nine
Joy watched Alex put on his clothes. He was half-asleep, fumbling a bit, which made him exceptionally adorable. Most of the time he was perfect while making zero effort. She loved his human moments.
“You okay? You’re staring,” he said, standing up from the spot where he’d been sitting on the edge of the bed.
Of course I’m staring. You’re astounding.
“I’m good. Just not totally awake. Last night wore me out.”
“That was a pretty rigorous tree lighting.” He snickered to himself.
“Not what I meant, Mr. One More Time. Your stamina is exhausting.”
He stepped closer and kissed her on the corner of her mouth. “That’s not what you said last night.”
“True. I guess I just have to accept that I’m going to be a step slow today.”
Except there was no room in Joy’s day for being a step slow. If she and Alex were going to spend Christmas together, she would need to buy him a gift. She’d thought about doing something homemade, making him a basket of his favorite pastries and maybe a jar of jam, and although it was somewhat romantic, it wouldn’t last. Plus, Alex was a guy accustomed to the best of everything, and although he was sweet and she doubted he would ever, ever be unhappy about receiving some of her scones or muffins, she wanted to give him something of permanence. She would feel better about parting from him if she knew he might be walking around with something she’d given him. He could have a reminder of her, of everything they had shared—the passion, the good times, the laughter.
The only hitch was the most perpetual and pervasive problem in her life—money. She wouldn’t get paid by the bakery until the end of the week, and even then, it wouldn’t be enough to buy him something truly spectacular, something worth holding on to. She needed a chunk of money, real cash.
“Just about ready to go?” he asked.
“I am. I just need to get a
few things. You should run downstairs and grab a cup of coffee. I just made it.”
He smiled and grasped her elbow. “You’re a savior.” He pecked her on the nose.
As soon as he was out of sight, Joy went to the closet and grabbed a box from the top shelf, which was hidden under a pile of sweaters. This cardboard box, soft and smashed in at the corners, was filled with the most important things Joy owned. It had her grandmother’s recipe cards, faded shades of pink, mint green and canary yellow, a precious bundle wrapped up in a rubber band. It also contained pictures of her family, some of which were in small frames.
She’d gotten so settled in Santa Barbara at the Marshall estate that she’d actually put the photos on the dresser in her room in the staff quarters. That was a leap she didn’t make often. Once she was out of culinary school, she never stayed in one place for very long, moving from cooking job to cooking job, city to city. That was when she was on a roll, climbing the ladder of success and actually making leaps. It was a magical time that would hopefully resume at some point.
In one corner of the cardboard carton sat a small jewelry box. Not the clamshell kind from a fine jeweler, but rather the paper kind for earrings from a gift shop. Inside that was a burgundy felt pouch with her grandmother’s most prized possession: a gold locket on a slender chain, a gift from the family her grandmother had spent most of her adult life cooking for.
Her grandmother had loved the family and they loved her right back. Joy’s grandfather had died when Joy was just a little girl and her grandmother had taken the job, moving in with the family, as her only means of survival. Joy was the only grandchild, her mom the only child. Her grandmother’s world might have been modest, but she’d filled it with love and incredible food for everyone who had been lucky enough to have been a part of it.
Joy was not about to let this necklace go forever. No way. But she had pawned it once before, to buy a ridiculously expensive textbook for culinary school, and she’d worked doubly hard to make the money to buy it back. She would do that again—she planned to ask Bonnie for extra hours at the bakery. Surely no one in a town like Vail would give one hoot about her grandmother’s necklace. It was too old-fashioned, too sentimental. It wasn’t flashy or showy. It was simple and unassuming, and Joy hoped that meant it could sit in the case in the pawn shop for just long enough for her to get paid and buy it back.
“Thank you for taking me to work. I realize it’s not fun to get up at 6:00 a.m.”
“I admire your dedication. Most people who are using a space to research a book would just show up when they feel like it.”
She shrugged it off playfully, feeling nothing close to lighthearted. “I don’t just talk the talk. I like to walk the walk, too.”
The new day was just dawning when Alex drove her into town. Joy tried not to focus too much on the uneasy feeling in her stomach when she thought about pawning her grandmother’s necklace. She tried to focus on her true goal—Alex meant something to her and she wanted him to remember her. Somewhere in the world, she wanted someone special to think of her from time to time, and maybe, for an instant, think that Joy had made their world a better place. It was the sort of thing her grandmother had done in her life, and Joy wanted the satisfaction of having accomplished at least a fraction of that.
“Here we are,” Alex said as they pulled up on the side street. “Sure you don’t want me to walk you in? I can get a parking spot no problem this early.”
“No. It’s okay. I know you have things to do.”
“I do have things to do. Like going back to bed. Then shopping.”
“Nothing too big. We agreed on that.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thank you for the ride.” Her lips were instantly drawn to his for a soft and gentle kiss.
His eyes were half-open when their lips parted, that look that made Joy’s stomach do somersaults. Knowing he was still savoring their kiss was a wonderful feeling. “You’re more than welcome. And you know, I sort of like getting up this early in the morning. It helps me imagine what it’s like to be a farmer.”
Joy swatted him on the arm. “Very funny. I’m guessing that nowhere in your family lineage is there a single farmer.”
“You would be right about that. I think the Townsends have always been bankers.”
Of course they have. “Probably even in prehistoric times when they were trading rocks and shells.”
“Probably. I’m guessing your ancestors were baking scones?”
And scraping for every penny. “Not until there was baking soda and butter in the world, but at some point, yes.”
Alex feigned a shiver. “I don’t even want to think about a world without butter. You would be so unhappy and I don’t want that.”
“Me neither.”
“So, tomorrow? Christmas Eve dinner? Do you need me to pick anything up? Can I do the shopping for you? I know you’re busy and my enthusiasm for work is pretty slim.”
Joy had forgotten about paying for groceries. Alex had picked up the tab the last time. “Actually? That would be wonderful, if you’re okay with that.”
“If it means I get to watch you cook, then yes. Absolutely. Text me a list and I’ll get everything taken care of.”
“You’re the best.”
“I try.”
She gave him a final kiss and ventured into the cold, rushing down the cobblestone walk and ultimately into the warm safety of the bakery. The aromas that hit her nose every time she walked in the door were such a pleasant comfort, although she’d felt that way about every food-related job she’d ever had, even the bad ones. Probably because she associated the scents with her grandmother and the happiest parts of her childhood.
“Morning,” Natalie said, coming in right behind Joy. “I see that the guy with the fancy car gave you a ride again. Have a good night?”
Joy looked over in time to catch a wink. Heat and embarrassment crept over her, even when it was a good seventy-five degrees in the bakery. She was past the point of pretending that Alex was just a ride. “Yes. We had a very nice time.”
“Are things getting serious?” They walked to the back and put away their coats and bags in the employees’ locker room, then stepped out into the hall where the stacks of clean, folded aprons sat.
Joy looped the string over her head and wrapped the tie around her waist, knotting it in the front. It gave her enough time to come up with a good answer.
If things were different between her and Alex, they might actually be getting serious. They felt serious. Whatever it was between them felt very real. But reality was so far removed from those feelings, it was ridiculous. They weren’t simply residing in different states, they were on different planets, and it all boiled down to one sad truth: she had lied to him about who and what she was. There would be no coming back from that.
That meant no future for them.
“No, not serious. We’re just having fun. He lives in Chicago anyway. He’ll be heading home after Christmas.”
Natalie drew her hair back into a high ponytail and put on a bandana to keep everything out of the way. “I wouldn’t mind having fun with a guy like that. You’re a lucky woman.”
“I know.”
And my luck is just about to run out.
Just then, Bonnie stepped out of her office.
“Hey, Bonnie. Can I talk to you for a minute?” Joy asked.
“Sure. Of course.”
“I’ll get the scones started,” Natalie said.
“I promise I’ll only be a minute,” Joy countered.
Bonnie nodded in the direction of her office doorway and Joy followed her inside, taking a seat next to her desk.
“What can I do for you?” Bonnie asked, settling into her worn wooden chair.
Joy sat a little straighter. She wanted Bonnie to know how s
erious she was. “I know I’m new here, but I could really use some more hours, even if it’s just for a few weeks.”
“Strapped for cash at the holidays?”
“Something like that. I was thinking, the bread team is short one person, right?”
“I need you on pastries. You know that.”
Joy nodded. “I do. But what if I started coming in early after Christmas? I could help on bread for four hours, then switch to my regular job.”
Bonnie picked up a pen and tapped it on her desk. “We’re talking brutal twelve-hour days.”
Joy forced a smile. “I know. I figure I can do anything for a few weeks.”
“If you’re up for it, it’s a deal. You’ll really be helping me out until I can hire a new person.” Bonnie got up from her seat and shook Joy’s hand. “You aren’t in some sort of trouble, are you?” Bonnie asked, seeming genuinely concerned.
No more than usual. “No. I just need to get some things squared away.”
Bonnie sighed. “Okay. Let me know if anything changes.”
Joy smiled wide, relief washing over her. “Thank you so much. Really. I appreciate it. I’d better get to work or Natalie will never let me hear the end of it.”
Joy flitted into the kitchen, and she and Natalie worked together like a well-oiled machine, knocking out scones, muffins, cookies and Danish like they were nothing. As much as Joy hadn’t loved her pastry courses in culinary school, she was starting to suspect her reaction had been more about her professor, who was a real wet fish and not much fun to be around. She actually loved baking. It had all the same pleasures of preparing main dishes. Maybe she really would write a baking cookbook one day. After she had a few new recipes under her belt, of course. Dreams were important, even ones of the pipe variety.
After the morning pastries were all out in the front cases, Joy and Natalie went to work on the rest of the day’s tasks—cakes, pies and tarts. They had restaurant orders to fill, as well as a few special requests from customers. It was as busy and frantic a morning as they’d had since she’d started working there. When it came time for lunch, she was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to get off her feet for thirty minutes and have something to eat. But she had that errand to run.