Page 14 of Holly, Jolly, and Oh So Naughty

“Cheeky. I’m not that old!” Mom kisses Emma’s head and ruffles her hair. “Anyway, I'd better get back. This one has been running around all day, and we had dinner, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“Of course!” Mom kisses my cheek. “Bye, baby.”

“Bye, Mom.”

“And I’ll see you tomorrow, munchkin.”

“Bye, Grandma!”

Emma busies herself, dragging her stool across the bakery kitchen and setting it beside me, then she climbs up and sighs deeply, as if she’s just back from a nine-hour shift.

“Whatcha making?”

“It’s a secret,” I say, smiling affectionately down at her. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?” Emma pouts up at me and her eyes become saucers.

“Because it’s a secret that involves you!” With Amelia being Emma’s teacher, Emma becomes one of the students Amelia wants to surprise with these treats and I’m not going to ruin that for her.

“Me?” Emma gasps and then pokes her little fingers at some stray dough on the counter. “A secret,” she whispers. Her head darts up to look at me. “Are you sure you can’t tell me?”

“I’m sure,” I whisper in reply. “But it will be worth it, I promise.”

As Emma whispers her agreement, the bakery phone lights up with a call and a soft song plays out. Years ago, I’d picked up the phone at a charity shop because it was shaped like bread and I got a kick out of it. Nothing prepared me for the first time I got a call, though, and instead of a ringing bell sound, the phone sang to me in French.

To this day, I still don’t know the song.

“I’ll get it!”

Emma’s about to slide off her stool when I gently catch her wrist. “No, sweetie. You stay here, okay? In fact, while I’m on the phone, can you knead the dough for me? Just like I’ve shown you before.”

“Sure!” Emma lights up at the prospect and immediately shoves her hands into the sticky dough as I retract my fingers. She falls into the rhythm easily, and I keep one eye on her as I hurriedly wipe my hands and answer the phone.

“Hello? You’ve reachedSweet Noel.”

“Lily!” Margret’s rough, scratchy tones crawl over the line. “I was beginning to think you would never pick up!”

“Well,” I say with a glance at the clock, “it is after nine and I’m usually home by now.”

“Yes, yes, I did try your home phone and your cell, but no answer,” Margret replies.

As she talks, I pat my pockets and locate my mobile only to find the screen completely dark.

“I’m sorry, Margret, I think I forgot to charge it again. Time gets away from me when I’m baking.”

“You should be more careful,” Margret says. “It’s not safe to be out and about without your phone charged.”

“I know, I know,” I assure her quickly. It’s the same spiel she’s given me since I was a teenager, although it increased in frequency after Emma was born. I know she means well, but I have a terrible time remembering to charge it.

“Well, since you’re still working, I was hoping to speak to you about something.”

“Of course!” My heart skips a beat while my stomach churns. Did James tell her that I’m his date? Am I about to get questioned about every detail of my life?

“About the cake?”

My mind screeches to a halt. “I’m sorry, the cake?”

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