by Olivia Miles
“So I guess we’re making cookies?” Travis looked at her for agreement, and she didn’t see how or why she should resist.
“I guess we are,” she said, hiding her smile behind a big box that she then carried over to Helena’s table, where services other than flirting were required.
Chapter Eleven
Jenna arrived at Mabel Gibney’s house with two grocery bags of ingredients, a recipe torn from a magazine she’d found at her parents’ house, and a thumping heart. In past years, she’d baked cookies in between her after-school lessons, always setting aside an extra dozen for the children she taught as an incentive for working hard. She wasn’t used to sharing the activity with anyone else, especially not a man, and especially not an attractive one.
She walked along the cleared brick path, which, judging from the snow that continued to fall, had been freshly shoveled. It warmed her heart to think this gesture may have been made on account of her arrival.
Or maybe Travis had just decided to take on the task when he arrived home from the school.
The answer was obvious when he opened the door before she even had a chance to ring the bell. The smile on his face told her what she’d already suspected, and made her take a deep breath of crisp winter air to settle herself. They were just baking cookies, even if that had started to feel like code for another excuse to spend time together.
“I brought supplies,” she said, lifting the bags, which he promptly took from her.
“Great!” He set them down in the front hall and closed the door behind her as she took off her coat. “I stopped by the store as well but I’m not sure if I bought anything useful.”
She handed him her coat, which he hooked onto the coat rack. He was looking at her funny, his arm still raised, and for a moment she wondered what he was doing, if he was trying to reach out to her, hug her or something in greeting—had they reached that point?
Instead, he brushed softly at her hair. “You’ve got some snow…”
“Oh.” Of course. He wasn’t going to hug her! That would be, well, weird, right? She patted her head hastily, feeling the snowflakes melt under her touch.
To think she’d spent time on her hair before coming here today. When all they were doing was baking cookies…
“Is your grandmother here?” She glanced around the hallway and into the rooms that flanked it.
“She’s next door,” he explained. He lifted an eyebrow. “She felt very strongly about it. Invited herself over, if I’m not mistaken.”
Jenna fought back a smile. Was everyone in this town a matchmaker? But then, no doubt Travis’s grandmother was hoping that if he met someone special, he’d stay on past Suzanne’s return.
If Suzanne returned. Hadn’t that been implied?
She jutted her head to the tree in the living room that nearly filled the bay window. “I’m happy to see you do indeed have a tree and a beautiful one at that,” she remarked. “I was a little worried that I’d swiped the last good one out from under you.”
“Oh, if I had to drive to the nearest forest and cut one down myself, my grandmother was going to have a nice tree.”
“Did you help her decorate it, too?”
“I’ll have you know that I carried all the boxes down from the attic, unpacked them, helped decorate, and there might have even been some Christmas music on in the background. Her idea,” he added. He gestured for her to follow him to the back of the house.
Jenna stayed back for a moment to admire the tree from the short distance. The lights were a little unevenly spread, and the ornaments were mostly clustered near the bottom of the tree, leading her to assume that Travis had been in charge of the lights while Mabel handled the rest.
“Still don’t see the point in it, though,” Travis said as he walked down the hall. “That thing will be dried up and dead by the end of next week.”
“And by then Christmas will be over,” Jenna said, realizing that not only would the holiday and all its anticipation be over, but possibly this time she was spending with Travis too. “Besides, the fun of having a tree is decorating it.”
“Oh, you call it fun, do you?” He turned and looked at her frankly. “I was standing on a ladder for close to forty-five minutes trying to get that star topper just right while Gran ordered me around from the comfort of the sofa.”
Jenna laughed. “Did you finally meet her approval?”
“Barely. She’s a tough one to please.” He shook his head, but she could see that he was smiling.
“Your dedication to your grandmother is admirable,” she said as she took one last look at the tree, complete with a topper and strings of lights she could now picture him untangling while Mabel looked on impatiently.
She nearly laughed at the image, but when she reached the doorway to the kitchen, she stopped in her place. There, spread out on the island, was every kind of sugar, flour, oil, and spice that the local market shelved.
“Wow,” she said when she found her voice. Her gaze rested on a few of the spice containers as she neared: turmeric, cumin, paprika. She slapped a hand to her mouth.
“What is it? These won’t work?” He stopped unpacking her bags and looked at her in alarm.
“Oh, they’ll work all right, if you’re cooking a spicy dinner.” She shook her head. He hadn’t been stretching the truth when he’d said he’d never baked before.
“Oh.” His cheeks went a little pink but he laughed, too.
“Here.” She gently moved toward him, aware that in the tight space in the corner of the kitchen, between the island and the sink, they were close, very close, close enough for her to smell the soap on his skin from his morning shower, the wool from his sweater, and sense the warmth from his body.
Forget needing that paprika to heat up a cold winter afternoon.
She reached for some of the spices she’d brought. “Cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves. These are the flavors of Christmas.”
“The flavors of Christmas,” he laughed. “Sounds like the name of a cookbook. Oh!”
Before she was ready for him to break this physical proximity, he moved across the room to a baker’s rack and held up a weathered and frayed recipe book.
“Right before you came over, I was looking through these books for a recipe and I found this. It was my grandmother’s.”
“May I?” Intrigued, Jenna stepped forward, taking the book from his hand. She opened it carefully, in case the pages were loose, which they were. Random slips of paper, newspaper clippings dating back forty or more years, and index cards that bore stains were tucked inside the book, which had evidently been much used and well loved. “Does she still use this?”
Travis shook his head. “Not since I’ve been here. Most nights, she just fixes some toast and tea. I feel bad that I’m not much of a cook.” His expression bore his regret. “I offer to take her out, but she prefers the comforts of home, as she likes to say.”
“Don’t we all?”
Travis shrugged, showing he wasn’t so convinced. “Since we moved around so much when I was a kid, I never really had a home base to fall back on once I was an adult and out of the house. My apartments aren’t exactly filled with throw pillows or—”
“Christmas trees?” she wagered a guess.
His smile was wry. “That noticeable?”
“Just a little.” She tipped her head. “You mentioned that you didn’t plan to go back to Florida, but you can’t think of one place that stood out, one that you could call home?”
“I guess I haven’t found it yet. But being here, I’m starting to understand why my grandmother has preferred to stay. There’s something to be said for having a house full of memories and photos. My grandfather’s been gone for decades but sometimes something in this house still sparks something in Gran, and it’s like, she comes alive. Like he’s still with her when she sees or hears something that reminds her of him. They had a lot of happy memories in this house.”
Jenna closed the book and held it to her chest. “All th
e more reason to surprise her with her favorite Christmas cookie. I’m sure there’s one in here that holds special meaning, or will remind her of a happy time, one that doesn’t have to be forgotten.”
She could tell from the way this afternoon was going that the recipe she was planning to try would forever be marked by this occasion, and that long after Travis had gone off to wherever life took him, she would bake these cookies and remember the Christmas that she spent with Scrooge himself.
Even if she was starting to suspect he had a little spirit tucked away in him after all.
When the cookies were in the oven and the timer was set, Travis wondered if it would be too much to offer Jenna a glass of wine and decided that he should, and not just because her family owned a winery.
Yes, wine sometimes implied a date, but he’d be lying to himself if this wasn’t starting to feel like one—and possibly the best one he’d ever had. He didn’t invest much in them usually, knowing that there was little chance of things developing into a relationship, little desire to form that kind of a bond that would only have to be broken next time he moved. His ex had been a lot like him, making it easy to fall into a daily routine, until she’d started asking for more than he could give.
“Just one glass,” she demurred when he uncorked the bottle. “I’m driving, though I could have walked, seeing how close your grandmother’s house is from town.”
“Is this your first time over here?” He filled two glasses partway and handed her one.
She took a sip, nodding. “Unless you count caroling.”
His eyes shot up to her. “Caroling? Oh, I seem to recall my grandmother mentioning this, but I didn’t put it all together.”
“The Christmas choir carols every Christmas Eve. It’s—”
“Tradition,” he finished, matching her grin. “Well, my grandmother looks forward to it. She’s already talking about.”
“This year will be extra special, with the costumes. And Candy suggested caroling around the carnival, which you might have seen in one of her many emails.”
“Ah, yes, the costumes. I might have to go up to the attic and rummage around for more than decorations.”
“I think you’d look rather handsome in a topcoat and hat.” Jenna’s cheeks flushed as she took another sip of wine. “I should check on the cookies…”
She turned on the oven light and peered inside, giving him a chance to let his gaze linger on her figure, her hair, for one moment before she turned and flashed him that radiant smile.
“Only a few more minutes. We need to watch them so they don’t burn. We wouldn’t want to have to start over.”
“I’m in no rush.” If burnt cookies meant another half hour with Jenna, he’d take it. She was easy to talk to, kind, and though he’d never admit it, her passion for the holidays was starting to rub off on him, unlike his last girlfriend, who was as apathetic to all the fanfare as he was. Or had been.
Still, there was the unspoken tension, and music was as much a part of her life as his career was to him.
“How is the children’s choir coming along?” he asked carefully.
She looked at him in surprise but then nodded enthusiastically. “Wonderful! I mean, we’ve only had one rehearsal, but we made it count, and this week I’ll meet with everyone Thursday and Friday night, so we get a final run-through the night before the carnival kicks off. I’m making it a special tribute to Mr. Pritchard. He inspired me so much, that it feels right to honor him this way before his retirement at the end of the school year.”
“That will mean a lot to him. And I promise I won’t mention it to my grandmother. I think those two have been canoodling on the phone.”
“Canoodling?” Jenna laughed, and Travis couldn’t help but smile. “It is a surprise of sorts, so thanks for not saying anything. We’re doing three of Mr. Pritchard’s favorite carols. The children have sung them before, so they won’t need much practice. I’m just hoping I can wrap up everything before the bonfire.”
“The bonfire?” He looked at her with interest.
“Over at the yacht club. They have this beautiful lawn, looking out over the lake with a view of Evening Island. Every season they have food and drinks and fire pits set up for guests. This Friday they’re donating all the proceeds to the library fund.”
“It’s amazing how the community pulled together like this, and so quickly.”
Travis was surprised, but Jenna wasn’t. “That’s Blue Harbor for you. There’s no other place like it.”
“You think they’ll get a good turnout?”
“It’s on the eve of the Winter Carnival, so I’m sure of it.”
“Well, I am on the planning committee,” he said, the corner of his mouth tipping into a grin.
She nodded sagely. “It is our duty to attend these events and make sure everything is running smoothly.”
“Our duty, absolutely.”
Their eyes locked for a moment and he took a step forward, but the sound of the oven timer startled them both, and Jenna quickly grabbed an oven mitt.
“Just in time!” she said triumphantly, setting the cookie sheet on the stovetop to cool before going back for another one.
Just in time, he thought, only he wasn’t thinking of the cookies. He was thinking of the fact that he’d almost kissed her, wanted to kiss her, and that if he had that would just make everything much more complicated than it needed to be.
The next night, with a plastic container filled with cookies heavy in her arms, Jenna met Brooke downstairs in the bridal shop so they could walk down Main Street together. Amelia’s house was near the center of town, and it was always the gathering place for the annual cookie party. Mostly, this was because Amelia liked to host the event, but it was also tradition by now, and when they could, Jenna and her cousins liked to uphold traditions, even when they introduced some new ones along the way.
“Are we stopping to meet Gabby along the way?” Jenna asked as Brooke locked up the shop. She paused to admire the glistening wedding gown in the window, that sparkled like the snow on the branches in the moonlight.
Catching Brooke’s eye, she quickly looked away. She was getting ahead of herself. Travis was a friend. And likely a temporary one at that.
“She had to run a delivery out to Pine Falls,” Brooke told her. “She’ll be a little late to the party, which means she might be stuck with my store-bought sugar cookies.”
“You didn’t!”
Brooke grimaced and held up her container. “I did. But it was just the dough. I rolled them out myself and…”
“And?” Jenna raised an eyebrow. Unless she’d completely transformed the dough, Amelia would be onto her with just one bite.
“And sprinkled them with sugar?”
Jenna laughed. “I suppose I can’t fault you. Last year I did pretty much the same, only I might have frosted them.”
“As much as I love the idea of baking Christmas cookies, I haven’t found the time with the new business and all the local festivities. Speaking of which, how’s the carnival planning coming along? That principal still bothering you, because if he is—”
“Oh.” Jenna looked straight ahead, knowing that if she met her sister’s eye, Brooke would see straight through to her innermost thoughts. “He’s not so bad.”
“Well, considering that I hear he’s Mabel’s grandson, I doubt she’d let him get away with anything,” Brooke chuckled. “Shame, though. He’s cute, don’t you think?”
Jenna was grateful to see they were already almost at their destination. She wasn’t sure she could feign nonchalance much longer, especially when she agreed wholeheartedly: Travis was very handsome indeed.
“Looks like we’re the late arrivals!” She nudged her chin toward Amelia’s front window, which was framed in lights, glowing from inside where several of their cousins were already visible, laughing and holding wine glasses.
“Dodging my question, are you?” Brooke said pertly as they climbed the stairs.
�
�What?” Jenna frowned. “No. I mean, what’s there to say? Travis is here while Suzanne tends to family matters. Once she’s back, he’ll be gone. Does it matter if he’s handsome or not?”
“Does it?” Brooke fought back a smile. “And I think the word I used was cute.”
Jenna pinched her lips and reached for the door handle, knowing that they were expected and there was no need to knock. Amelia turned from the adjacent living room and hurried toward the door, lifting the containers from their hands and setting them on the buffet table she’d set up against the wall while they hung their coats on the hook in the small entryway.
“These are pretty! I don’t think I’ve ever seen them before.” Amelia bent forward to smell the freshly baked cookies.
“Those are pretty!” Natalie Clark was next through the door, with her sister Bella.
“Almost too pretty to eat,” Bella remarked.
“They’re an old recipe,” Jenna said vaguely to Maddie, who was equally curious as she approached.
“I’ve seen these before!” Maddie insisted, looking from the cookies to Amelia to Jenna. “Years back, Mrs. Gibney used to make cookies and drop them off for some of her friends as gifts. I can remember my grandmother giving me one when I was over her house.”
Must have been their grandmother on their mother’s side, because Jenna, unfortunately, had no such memories.
“Oh, you’re right! I can’t believe I forgot about them. They were so buttery, I didn’t dare chew.” Amelia glanced at Jenna. “May I?”
“Of course!” Jenna flushed at the attention because no one had ever paid much attention to her contribution at the cookie swap before. Still, now that she’d been appropriately flattered, she hoped these memories didn’t stir up further questions about the origin of the recipe.
“Wherever did you find the recipe?” Maddie asked, and then, her face teased into a smile when she realized she already knew the answer. “Mrs. Gibney is Travis’s grandmother, isn’t she?”