“He was. It’s weird how we lost both of them so young, Mom and Uncle Bob.”
“I know. Different things took them, though. As far as I know, your mom’s the only one in the family to have cancer.”
“Really? I didn’t know that.”
“Yep. Mostly heart problems in the Platsky genes.”
Sophie sighed. Strange, but she felt more relief than sadness, hearing Cathy talk about her mom’s cancer. Back in California, her dad didn’t talk about it, and she’d given her friends a clear message that she didn’t want them to bring it up. Why was it different now? Maybe it was just the right time. Or, maybe it was something to do with being in Sitka, the place she and her mother had gone for summer adventures, just the two of them.
“How’s your dad doing, Sophie?”
“Oh, you know. He’s fine.”
“He remarried a while back, right?”
“Yeah, years ago. Diane’s only a few years older than me.”
“But no kids?”
“No, she isn’t interested in kids, which is partly why Dad likes her. Diane is into culture and education.”
“Oh?”
“She’s working on her second master’s degree, I don’t remember what in. I’ve only met her a couple of times. Dad and I just meet for lunch once in a while.”
“You sound like you’re okay with it.”
Sophie was glad the bitterness didn’t come out in her voice anymore. She wasn’t okay with it. The divorce had been hard on her mom, hard on Sophie. But she’d learned to live with it. She just shrugged. “It is what it is. Hey, look at that cruise ship!” As they turned a corner, a giant vessel came into view.
“Isn’t that an awesome sight?” Cathy said. “I never get tired of it. We get them pretty regularly this time of year. When they disembark, downtown gets jammed with pedestrians out for excursions or shopping. A lot of Roger’s charter customers come from the cruise ships that are in town just for the day.”
Soon they turned off the road, stopping at a small, freshly painted pink building.
“Here it is.” Cathy sighed. She looked at the building, but put her hand on her large baby bump. “The Cookie Jar.”
“The Cookie Jar? Is that what you’re calling it? I love it. And the building is darling!” Sophie said.
“Yes, it is. I only wish the timing had been better.”
Sophie patted Cathy’s hand. “It will be just fine. That’s why I’m here, to help while you and baby girl there get to know each other.”
“I’m so glad you came.” Cathy’s blue eyes glistened. “We’d already committed to get this going when I realized I was pregnant. Did you know I was four months along before I knew? I felt so stupid I hadn’t recognized the signs in my own body. I thought I was just hitting early menopause.”
Sophie felt an unexpected warmth in her chest; a comforting feeling. She’d been unsure about coming to Alaska, had worried that these little-known cousins of hers had invited her to come out of pity for her loss rather than really wanting her around. For the first time, she felt that she really was needed in Sitka, and it felt good. She still didn’t know what her future held after that need was no longer apparent, but for now, she had a place here.
“Babies are always good news,” Sophie said, “and this baby is going to be so loved and spoiled. Spence and Ty are going to be awesome big brothers. And she’ll grow up smelling your cinnamon rolls, so she’ll be a happy girl. I know I felt that way, growing up with a baker for a mom. Come on, I want to see this place.”
Sophie wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but construction on the new bakery was almost complete. Inside, the floor was black-and-white checkerboard, and the walls were painted pink and green. Cathy showed Sophie catalog pictures of the ovens and the 1950s-style dining sets she’d ordered. On the countertop lay a shop sign a cousin had painted that Roger would soon hang for her. Landscaping would be done by yet another Platsky, Uncle Wade; a small reader board would go up, courtesy of a cousin who now lived in Juneau; and Aunt Suzy—Uncle Bob’s widow and a local photographer—was providing photos of Sitka to hang on the walls.
Sophie thought it was perfect, and the two sat down to a folding table and chairs to make a list of what else was needed to open the Cookie Jar.
Nearly two hours later, they had a sizeable list on Cathy’s laptop.
“I think we’re getting there.” Sophie stretched and yawned, looking around again at the bakery after being so focused on planning. “I really love the colors. I can’t remember, what made you think of pink?”
“It was Jamie,” Cathy said, and Sophie was surprised at how her heart skipped at his name. “He’d been to a pink French patisserie once, and suggested that it would stand out.”
“He was right. It has the perfect feel of a bakery.” Unless your bakery’s in an older brick building in San Francisco, with white-framed windows and a brown-and-white striped awning. “By French patisserie, do you mean …?”
Cathy nodded, but just the hint of a guarded look touched her expression. “Actually in Paris, I believe. I don’t remember what he said it was called, but it struck him as sweet, light, inviting … all the things you want in a bakery. I like pink, so we went with it.”
Sophie had a pencil and notepad in front of her. She’d been doodling on and off while they brainstormed the bakery wish list, and now, as she thought about this enigma that was Jamie, she doodled some more.
“You still haven’t really told me much about Jamie,” she said, not looking up at Cathy. “He’s kind of … odd, with that beard and clothes, but if he was in Paris, he must have traveled at some point. And those men … the tourists. He really knew how to handle them. He’s a sharp guy, isn’t he? I don’t know now why I thought otherwise … except that he looks like he doesn’t exactly have it all together. I’m wondering, though …”
She didn’t finish her thought. She wasn’t sure how, without making a fool of herself. One mistaken presumption was enough.
“What?” Cathy prodded her on. “What were you wondering?”
“Is Jamie … dangerous?”
“Dangerous?”
“I mean, it’s like he’s rough, but he’s capable. If those men hadn’t left yesterday, I couldn’t help but wonder what Jamie would have done. The look in his eyes …”
“Don’t worry about Jamie,” Cathy said. “I’m not surprised he put those men in their place, from what I heard. We get bad eggs coming up here sometimes; that’s not unusual. I haven’t known Jamie to take them on, but then he’s not here that often. He just shows up sometimes and stays for anywhere from a week to a few months. This time it’s been … nine months? Maybe ten? Long for him. He’s good to us. He watches out for us, and we do for him.”
“Does he have any family?”
“He does. Not a wife or kids, though.” Cathy smiled at her, making Sophie blush.
“I wasn’t asking that,” she said too quickly. “The homeless, unwashed look isn’t really my style.”
“It wouldn’t be for most girls,” Cathy said. “Don’t discount him for that, though. Jamie wouldn’t be a bad catch.”
“Not that I’m interested in dating, anyway.”
Cathy ignored the comment. “He’s got some issues—well, I guess everyone has issues. But he’s really a good guy.”
For some reason, it made Sophie’s heart lighter to think that he was. Why she cared was still a mystery. “I’m sure he is a good guy. Unless … the times when he’s not here … he’s never been in jail, has he?”
Cathy rubbed her eyes. “Nope.”
“Sorry, just had to ask. He just looks so … Don’t you think he has that look?” Cathy looked like she was considering it, but Sophie didn’t wait for an answer. “What else do you know about Jamie?”
At that moment, both Jamie and Roger walked through the glass doors. Luckily Roger was the first one in, and he was the only one who might have heard Sophie’s question. And by the agitated look that suddenly crossed his f
ace, she was pretty certain he had. “You ladies want to grab some lunch?” he asked.
Jamie, trailing behind Roger, didn’t say a word, but nothing about his entrance said it was because he was shy. Where in the world had she even gotten the idea that he was? He strode in past Roger, winked at Sophie (which, maddeningly enough, set off a swarm of butterflies in her chest), and walked with a sense of authority around the entire kitchen and dining area. Sophie noted that his outfit was less ragged today. The jeans were slightly newer, cleaner; grey Converse replaced the grubby work boots; and a blue flannel shirt brought out his bright hazel eyes.
He still looked like trouble, just with a new outfit.
He made a full circle of the interior and stopped back in front of the doors, looking over the bakery with a critical eye. Cathy and Roger watched him, too.
“Well?” Cathy asked. “What do you think? Does it pass Paris standards?”
“Definitely,” said Jamie. “I’m not a decorator, but I’d say the color scheme looks great. I’m assuming the big window in front will hold a display case?”
“Yes, and also one from this point about six feet out,” Roger said, stepping out the measurements. “And the cash register here.”
“And what did you decide for sit-down seating?”
Cathy flipped the catalog back to show him the dining sets.
“Yeah. That’s good,” he said.
Sophie wondered why his opinion mattered, but she put on a smile. “You sound like you know something about running a bakery. Are you going to work up a menu, too?”
“I could try,” he said, his eyes twinkling, “but I think the talented and good-looking women already on it would do better at that than me.”
Sophie blushed. It was hard to keep eye contact when he flirted like that, and it made her mad that she couldn’t control her response.
“When do you plan on opening?” Jamie asked Cathy.
“The ovens arrive tomorrow, and the cases in a couple of days. Those are the last big things.”
“And the ceiling fans,” Roger added.
“Right, the ceiling fans,” Cathy agreed. “Those are coming this week, too. Beyond that, Sophie and I have some errands to run in Juneau, a few things to do around here … We could be open in a month.”
A month. Sophie felt that familiar lump resurface in her throat. The whole morning while she and Cathy were going over every little thing needed in the bakery, she’d kept one thought tucked away, high on a closet shelf in her mind. Their list of pots and pans and every ingredient vital to putting together the Cookie Jar lacked one important thing: Sophie’s mom. It was impossible for Sophie to imagine running a bakery without her. At their sweet little bakery, she and her mom worked side by side in the kitchen, and they made a good team. While making plans with Cathy was exciting, there would be a hole in her routine. And just for a second, Sophie’s sadness slipped down off the shelf.
“How does your baking assistant feel about opening in a month?” Jamie asked. She hadn’t realized he’d been watching her. His voice and his eyes above the beard were teasing, flirtatious.
“I can’t wait.” She forced a smile. What was with this guy? Why was he so focused on her? Whatever the reason, she didn’t need to let him see her sadness or her irritation with him. She sat up straight in her chair and put on her city-girl poker face. “It’s been months since I’ve baked anything, really. I’m up for a challenge.”
“Ready to get your hands on some dough?” Jamie asked.
“Definitely.”
Jamie nodded toward Roger, who hadn’t stopped looking uncomfortable. “Roger told me about your mom,” Jamie said. “I … never know what to say about loss, but I’m sorry. That must have been a shock to lose her so young.”
There was that pang again, and confusion. If he’d just keep being a flirt, she could eventually ignore that. But how was she supposed to write him off if he was being nice?
“It was a shock,” she answered. “My mom was an amazing person.”
“I’d love to hear more about her sometime.”
It infuriated her, but her insides melted into a warm puddle. What was it about this guy? His personality and—she had to admit it—his magnetism were so different from his exterior. Maybe if he shaved that beard …? On second glance, though, she realized he had made an effort. “Are you … wearing your beard differently?” she asked.
He grinned and ran his hand along it. “Shampooed and combed fresh this morning,” he said. “I’ve been told that it needed a wash.”
He glanced at Cathy, who chuckled. “About time!” she chided.
“I was outvoted. You weren’t the only one to complain.”
Sophie wondered who else in Jamie’s life encouraged him toward some grooming. Most likely a woman, she thought with an irritating pang.
“So, let’s get this lunch going,” Jamie said. “Are you both in?” His question included Cathy, but he only looked at Sophie.
“I’m starving,” Sophie said, not sure if she should break the pull of those eyes or meet them head on.
“I think I’m out.” Cathy stretched. “Time for a short afternoon nap.”
Roger reached out for her hand. “Yeah, you look all in. Come on. I’ll drive you home and make you a sandwich.”
“You will, huh? Since when? Trying to impress Jamie and Sophie?”
Roger looked sheepish. “I can cook,” he said, unconvincingly.
“You’re not on a boat today?” Sophie suddenly noticed.
“As manager, I only go out when needed,” Roger said. “I’ll have plenty to do in a few hours.”
“And you?” she asked Jamie. “Just taking the day off?”
“I take a day off now and then. So, if these old codgers are going to go have a nap, I guess it’s just you and me for lunch. How about it? I know a great place.”
Sophie felt a little panic that she hadn’t anticipated this. She should have waited to let Cathy answer before agreeing to go and suddenly finding herself looking at time alone with Jamie. If it was just the two of them, would this be a date? Did she want it to be a date? No, not a date. He’s definitely not dating material. And yet, she didn’t want to chicken out.
“Okay,” she said finally, “let’s do lunch. But I pay.”
Roger actually snorted. Cathy, pulled herself up off her chair and, patting Jamie on the arm, said, “I think that’s a great idea. Go Dutch treat, let Jamie keep a little pocket money. Does that work for you, Jamie?”
A frown had formed beneath Jamie’s beard. Sophie could see it in his eyes.
“I didn’t mean to offend,” she said quickly. Still could be dangerous. “I just thought …”
“No, it’s okay,” he said. Just as quickly as it left, the twinkle returned to his eyes. “That’ll just mean next time it’s my treat.”
6
The rain had cleared, and for the first time since Sophie’s arrival, the sun came out in Sitka.
“Sunshine!” In celebration, Sophie raised her hands out to the rays of sun that had reached them, a half-eaten French fry in one hand.
“I think the more accurate term is partial clearing. But at least it’s not raining.” Jamie occupied the spot next to her on the park bench.
She’d seen that he kept his burger and fries protectively on his lap. It made her think that he was used to protecting his food. Prison? Homeless?
“You’d better keep that fry close,” he said, as if reading her mind. “You’ve got stalkers.”
Sophie looked down where she’d placed her food on the bench, half expecting to see thieves creeping up on her. Instead, two large crows crept along the sidewalk toward her lunch. Before she could scare them off, she realized a third crow had perched on the back of the bench, a few feet from her head. She jumped up, waving her arms to scatter them. “Shoo! Go! Out of here!”
Jamie just laughed.
“Bunch of moochers,” Sophie said, sitting back down. “No wonder the bench was empty. A person can�
��t eat lunch in the sunshine without having to defend herself. Have you, uh, spent a lot of time eating on park benches?”
Jamie shrugged. “I’ve eaten on this one before. I think I recognized that one crow. He’s stolen food from me before.”
“Look, there’re more in that tree. A lot more.”
Jamie slurped from his milkshake. “There are a lot, you’re right. In fact, I’d call that a murder.”
Sophie stopped mid-bite, unsure what to think of that. She was still trying to convince herself that Jamie wasn’t dangerous. “Why would you call it that?” she asked.
“That’s what you call a group of crows. A murder.”
“You’re making that up.”
“It’s true. Google it.”
“I will.”
Sophie put her food protectively on her lap like Jamie’s, and the two ate in silence. Occasionally, one of them swung out a foot or an arm to scare away birds.
The bench faced the water and a beautiful view. A cruise ship—she wasn’t sure if it was the same one she’d seen earlier that morning, but supposed it was—had docked farther out in the bay, and tourists milled around the downtown area.
“It must drive the locals crazy when so many tourists get dropped into town. Look at the line now where we got lunch.” She pointed. “It’s out the door.”
“Nothing wrong with good business. A lot of these little shops would close if it weren’t for the cruise ships.”
“I suppose. The fishing charter and Angler’s Cove Lodge wouldn’t exist without tourists, right?”
Jamie thoughtfully finished a bite of his burger before answering. “No, they wouldn’t. You don’t have a business without customers.”
“Thank you, by the way,” Sophie said. “For the other day. With those men.”
“Bob, and … the other Bob? Yeah, they aren’t the kind of tourists you hope for.”
“No, I don’t suppose they are. You don’t get too many like them, then?”
Jamie had been watching the waterfront, but turned his gaze toward Sophie. “I hope not. I don’t see them, anyway. I’m sorry they spoke to you that way. It was out of line.”
The Angler, the Baker, and the Billionaire (Destination Billionaire Romance) Page 4