Also, Emma had kissed her.
No. No, let’s be honest here.
She had kissed Emma. She couldn’t help herself. Hadn’t even tried to help herself. It was Emma, for God’s sake. The one who’d always been her rock. And she’d been standing there, looking beautiful and open, and Charlie had let instinct take over, and apparently, her instinct was to push her tongue into Emma’s mouth.
And Emma had sent her lunch, made it just the way she liked it.
What should she do with that?
The buzzer to the oven sounded, and Charlie shook herself back to the present. I guess now’s not the time. The pies need me.
* * *
Emma was in a good mood on Monday, which was new. Not that she was ever in a horrible mood, but Monday was Monday, and she was most commonly neutral as far as her Monday mood.
Not today, though. Today, she hummed along to Taylor Swift as she prepped. The turkey wraps she’d made and sent across the street were like food of the gods, if she said so herself, and she popped the last bite of the extra one she’d made into her mouth, chewed slowly, savored.
Tonight’s special was cedar-plank salmon, and the soup was gazpacho. Alec was already working on that, chopping and dicing and blending. He worked quietly at his end of the kitchen, and Jules got salad stuff ready, while Emma gathered her info for the bar. Danielle was coming in any time now to take her liquor order.
Until she’d owned her own restaurant, Emma hadn’t experienced the full impact of pride that always swept through her at this time of day in the dining room. There was only her, Jules, and Alec, and with them in the kitchen working, Emma would simply wander among the chairs and tables, listening to the quiet, inhaling the scents of food left from the most recent meals. She’d straighten the photos on the walls, make sure the bud vases and tea lights were centered on the tables. Run her fingertips over the backs of the wooden chairs.
EG’s was hers. Hers alone. She owned it. She’d even venture to call it a success. Granted, she had a significant loan she was paying, and there were definite lulls. She sat down with her business advisor twice a year to go over marketing and ideas to keep things fresh, and she felt pretty good about that.
She was the head chef and owner-operator of her own successful restaurant before she hit thirty. She took a moment and allowed herself to be impressed. Not for long, though. She didn’t want to get too big for her britches, as her mom would say.
A moment of standing proudly with her hands on her hips was all she needed, and then she moved to the front door just as Danielle pulled up out front.
“Hey, bitch,” Danielle said as she slammed her car door shut.
“I love when you wear a suit and pretend to be all businesslike and important.”
“Hey, there is no pretending here.” Danielle circled the car and stood next to her, briefcase in hand. “Ready to buy all the alcohol? Make me the number one sales rep for my company so I can win the Caribbean cruise I’m so close to, I can taste it?”
Danielle’s job took her all over the state, and some of her clients were major restaurants, bars, and grocery stores. EG’s was a teeny, tiny blip on her radar, but Emma appreciated when she made her sound like a big deal.
“Yes, absolutely. Come in so I can buy twenty-seven cases of everything you have.”
“Excellent! Jamaica, here I come!”
They laughed together as she held the door open for Danielle, and they moved behind the bar where Danielle immediately started to examine each bottle of alcohol, each liquor, the wine rack and wine fridge, jotting notes on a pad of paper.
Emma loved watching her work. She wasn’t sure why, unless it was the sheer organization. Danielle kept a record of all her sales and knew how well each brand and variety sold, or didn’t, at EG’s. She came by at least once a month, sometimes more frequently, depending on her schedule or new products, and offered Emma suggestions for buying some or avoiding others. She knew what was hot, what was on the way out, what would never sell. She was a veritable wealth of cocktail info. A fun friend to have.
“You’re blowing through the Fireball,” Danielle said, almost to herself.
“Sabrina keeps inventing new shots and drinks that include it.”
Danielle nodded. “It’s very hot right now.”
The front door opened, and the blast of sunlight made them both squint. As soon as Emma saw who it was, she felt her heart rate kick up a notch or two. Or twelve. She couldn’t help but smile.
“I come bearing gifts,” Charlie said as she stepped into the restaurant and let the door shut behind her. She took a beat, blinking, three stacked boxes in her arms. “Help. I can’t see.”
Emma scooted around the bar and took the boxes gently out of Charlie’s hands, their fingers grazing as she did so. A jolt of energy seemed to shoot between them, but Emma didn’t know from which of them it originated.
“I heard a rumor today was coconut cream day. Truth?”
Charlie grinned. “Yes, ma’am. They came out pretty good, if I say so myself.”
“I’m not surprised. That always was one of your best.”
“You think? I feel like I’ve always had trouble with the texture.”
“Not that I can remember.” Emma set the boxes on the bar, caught the expression on Danielle’s face. Concern? Warning? Disapproval? All of the above? She turned away from her quickly, as if the look was burning her retinas.
“Thanks for lunch,” Charlie was saying.
“You liked it?”
“Oh my God, so good. Sandy and I ate ours in, like, four bites each.” Charlie held her gaze for a moment before adding, a bit quieter, “Thanks for making mine without dressing. I can’t believe you remembered.”
Emma tapped her finger against her temple. “Steel trap.”
“Always was.”
Danielle cleared her throat. Emma rolled her lips in.
“Hey, Danielle,” Charlie said as she leaned to the side and gave a little wave in Danielle’s direction. “Good to see you.”
“You, too,” Danielle said. “Hey, Em, can you help me with this?”
She stifled a sigh. “Sure.” She grimaced at Charlie. “Duty calls.”
“Oh, sure. Sure. Go.”
“Thanks for the pie. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
Charlie’s smile was bright, and Emma somehow felt it in the pit of her stomach. That might have had something to do with the fact that she was now flashing back to those same lips on hers the night before. That same face in her hands. That tongue pressing against hers. She swallowed hard as she watched Charlie leave, stood there until the door closed softly.
“Seriously?” At least Danielle waited until the door had completely closed before she spoke.
Emma turned to face her. “What?”
Danielle’s notepad was down by her side, her head tipped one way, one brow arched in obvious disapproval. “You know what.”
Emma shook her head, feigned confusion as she opened one of the boxes and inhaled the heavenly scent of coconut. The pie was gorgeous, all light-colored custard, bright white whipped cream, and the earthy brown of toasted coconut sprinkled on top. “I’m going to try this out. Want a slice?”
Danielle gave a little groan of obvious frustration as she took a couple steps so she was exactly opposite Emma, the bar between them. “Em, listen. You’ve told—” She stopped and inhaled. “God, that smells divine,” she whispered. “Yes, I want a bite, but we’re not finished.”
Emma sighed loudly. “What, Dani?”
“Don’t get all snarky with me,” Dani scolded, rightfully so. They had a quick stare down before Emma looked away in defeat. “I saw you two leave Summer Fest together yesterday. What happened?”
She felt her face flush, and she shrugged, knowing she probably looked like a teenager caught doing something she shouldn’t and pretending it was no big deal. “I was a little tipsy and Charlie walked me home. I made us some food.” She shrugged again, then instantly wished
she hadn’t because Dani snorted.
“Overplaying your hand a bit with the shrugging, don’t you think?” Dani’s gaze was like a laser beam, and Emma found herself squirming internally. “You sleep with her?”
“What? No. Of course not.”
Dani stared. Simply stared. It was like she was reading her mind, like she could see right in and knew everything Emma had done, and Emma hated it.
“Stop that.”
“You kissed her, though.”
Emma’s eyes went wide. “How the hell do you know that?”
It was Dani’s turn to shrug like things were no big deal, keeping her eyes on her notes. “It’s all over your face.”
Was it? She made some noncommittal sound, hoping to end this conversation.
“Listen.” Apparently Dani wasn’t done. She set her pad down, then her pen, leaned her forearms on the bar, folded her hands, and stared at Emma until she got around to making eye contact. “All I’m doing is looking out for you. You’ve told me all about Charlie. All about how badly she hurt you. Hell, you haven’t had a healthy relationship since. Do you want me to list the qualities she has that you told me about?”
“Not really.”
“Okay, good. I will. She’s selfish.” Dani ticked off each word on a finger. “She’s unreliable. She doesn’t understand what love is. She’s blinded by material things. She doesn’t have your back. She’s not who you thought she was.” Each statement felt like a slice from a razor, death by a thousand cuts, and Emma swallowed hard. “These are all things you told me, things you said about her. Shall I go on?”
She shook her head, the shame and embarrassment nearly unbearable, the solid lump in her throat making words hard.
Danielle’s shoulders dropped and her expression relaxed, as if realizing she’d been a little harsh. She reached across and grabbed Emma’s forearm. “I just worry about you.” Danielle’s voice was gentle. “I love you, and I worry about that tender heart of yours.”
“I know.” She really didn’t want to talk about this, so she told Dani she’d be right back with pie, and she fled to the kitchen.
Didn’t matter what was going on in life, no place in the world made her feel better than the kitchen. It was as if there was extra oxygen secretly being pumped in through the vents because Emma felt like she could breathe again. She put two boxes into the big fridge, then carefully lifted the third pie out and set it on the counter. She cut two slices and plated them, grabbed forks, but needed another minute to pull herself together. Danielle wasn’t wrong. All those negative qualities she’d ticked off on her fingers out there? Yeah, she’d said every one of them about Charlie. And how the hell did she know Charlie wasn’t still just like that? It was a few hours at the park and one kiss. One hot, steamy, dynamic kiss, yes. But just one kiss. It wasn’t hard to look back and call up all the pain, all the devastation she had felt. It hadn’t really been all that long ago.
Maybe Danielle was right. Maybe she needed to take a step back, dig out her armor, and put it on. Maybe she needed to be more careful around Charlie, the one person in the world who had hurt her more than anybody else ever had. Because maybe people didn’t change.
She sliced her fork through the tip of one piece of coconut cream pie, put the bite in her mouth, and her eyes closed all on their own, the thick, sweet creaminess coating her tongue and pulling a hum of delight from her throat.
“Oh my God,” she said quietly, so nobody else heard. “Well, her pie hasn’t changed.”
That only solidified her earlier thought: People don’t change.
Did they?
Chapter Seventeen
“Thank you so much for your time and consideration,” Charlie said as she smiled into the webcam on her laptop. She’d been forcing that smile for much of the half-hour Skype interview and wondered if she was coming across as creepy or maybe slightly deranged. “I hope to hear from you.”
She hit the red End button and the smile dropped as if yanked right off her face. Her shoulders drooped and she let out a huge breath.
“That was awesome, honey!” Her mother suddenly trooped down the basement stairs like she was being chased, and Charlie couldn’t help but laugh.
“Geez, Mom, were you standing there with your ear pressed to the door?”
“Pretty much, yeah.” Her mom took a seat on the bottom step as Charlie closed out of Skype and put her laptop away. “Nice outfit,” she commented when Charlie stood to reveal she was wearing a very professional-looking shirt and blazer on top…and leggings on the bottom.
“Why, thank you.” She padded across the basement in bare feet and set her laptop bag in a corner.
“So? How’d it go?” Her mother’s eyes were bright, her brows raised expectantly, her excitement palpable. It really was kind of adorable.
A casual shrug. “Pretty well, I think. He seemed impressed with my résumé.” She didn’t add that she’d had to fudge a bit to explain why she’d been a junior account executive for such a short time. Luckily, she’d been part of a couple of very successful marketing campaigns, so she was able to talk those up.
“That’s great.” Her mom clapped her hands together and grinned so widely that Charlie squinted at her.
“You okay, Mom?”
“Of course I am.” Her mother tipped her head to one side, her eyes watering slightly. “I’m just getting used to having you back home is all.”
Ah. She understood then. “I’m not going anywhere just yet. I promise.”
“I know.” There was an unspoken But you will beneath her words, and they both knew it. There was a beat of silence before her mom slapped her thighs and stood. “Okay. Gotta get dinner ready.” She took a couple steps up before turning back. “I do hope you get the job, sweetie. You know that, right?”
She met her mother’s gaze, saw the uncertainty and the tinge of guilt, and had the immediate need to fix it. “I know, Mom.”
Her mom looked at her tenderly for a moment longer before heading up the stairs and disappearing from sight.
Charlie picked up her phone and texted Lily, thanked her for setting up the interview, and reported how it went. Lily sent several smiling emojis, said she was in a meeting, but she’d call later to get all the deets.
She should’ve been excited. Charlie knew she should. In the grand scheme of interviews, hers had been a good one. Definitely. She’d been articulate. Insightful. She’d come across as intelligent. Knowledgeable. No questions had stumped her, not even the standard What would you say is your biggest weakness? She had that one down—trying to predict people’s reactions to things, often incorrectly. If they didn’t call her for a second interview in the next week, she’d be very, very surprised.
So why wasn’t she flying high right now? Why wasn’t she researching Boston? Neighborhoods and housing prices and rental properties? Why wasn’t she doing more research on the company and trying to learn all she could about each senior account executive, so she could hit the ground running when she got there?
She didn’t want to think about the answers, and that was the honest-to-God truth. Avoidance. She was becoming a pro.
* * *
Friday morning was crazy at The Muffin Top. People coming in and out. Four preorders for cookies and muffins. Charlie had baked five different made-to-order pies first thing for a rec center event in Clifton, which Sandy had been thrilled about.
“News of your pies is spreading,” Sandy’d said to her with the excitement of a toddler at a playground as she wiped her hands on her pink apron and hurried by to pull a tray of macarons from the oven. They were a soft pink and looked like little desserts made of cartoon clouds.
“Those are gorgeous,” Charlie commented as she pushed another apple onto the peeler-corer for slicing. She’d decided to go with good old-fashioned apple pie to honor the upcoming July Fourth holiday. Since she’d started at The Muffin Top, she’d gone from making two pies in the mornings to three to five to sometimes seven or eight. Three automatically
went across to EG’s. Business had picked up steadily, both for whole pies and by the slice—which was a great sign, as Charlie would’ve expected things like pies and cookies to sell better over the fall and winter holidays than through the summer.
“I want to talk to you for a minute before you take pies over to Emma this afternoon, okay?” Sandy took a second tray out of the oven, this time loaded with mint-green macarons. “Don’t leave until you see me.”
“Got it.”
Sandy’s mention of Emma sent Charlie’s mind there, to that place she’d been trying not to dwell in, and she ended up there for the remainder of her shift. Through pie-making and ringing out customers and cleanup, her brain rolled it all around. She hadn’t spent any time with Emma since last Sunday and that kiss. That magical, familiar-but-new, amazing kiss they’d shared. She’d seen Emma a few times when delivering pie, but conversation had been sparse, Emma claiming to be super busy. Tuesday, she came out, said a quick thanks, and scooted right back into the kitchen. Wednesday, she’d come out from the kitchen with her phone to her ear, obviously on a business call, and she’d given Charlie a wave, scooped up the pies, and disappeared back into the kitchen. Yesterday, she hadn’t come out at all, and Charlie left the pies with Jules. Charlie certainly understood that Emma had a job that kept her very busy, but this seemed odd.
Maybe she was reading into things too much. After all, it wasn’t like she really knew Emma any longer, right? Years had passed. They were different people now. Still. She’d felt a sense of distance from Emma since Monday, and it was beginning to frustrate her. It was probably time to call her on it. I mean, maybe? Is that even allowed?
Things finally died down enough in the early afternoon that Sandy stopped running around like a madwoman and Bethany was able to give her fingers a rest from the constant pressing of buttons on the cash register. Charlie came out of the kitchen with her pie boxes stacked and set them on the counter. They looked at each other and exhaled loudly all at once, then burst into laughter.
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