Page 77 of Flake It Til You Make It

“Better than perfect. Is there something better than perfect?” The way Taylor was gazing at him now, Rocco wondered if that could behimTaylor was referring to. But before he could drumup the courage to ask, Rebecca popped her head in from the kitchen. “Oh, you two haven’t left yet. Sorry.”

“We’re leaving right now,” Taylor said. “We can’t be late and let everyone miss out on these amazing cookies.”

He squeezed Rocco’s hand one more time, and then they were grabbing the boxes and heading out towards Dancing Sugar Plums.

They were quiet on the walk there, even though Rocco still hoped that maybe they could recapture the moment they’d had earlier. But it was good, too, to be able to walk like this, together, on their way to do something that Rocco had wanted to participate in so badly, that Taylor had made possible.

Couldn’t that be enough?

It’s going to be enough,Rocco told himself firmly.

When they entered the shop, it was set up with a dozen or so tables, little signs at each one identifying the participant, with a blank space underneath for description of their cookies.

In the middle was one big long table, piles of blank sugar cookies cut into holiday-themed shapes, and three bins of red, green, and white frosting bags. Dotted up and down the table were bowls of sprinkles.

“Let’s get you set up,” Taylor said, leading him by the hand towards his table.

And yes, he had his own table, withhisname on it, a marker sitting next to his sign, so he could fill in the names ofhis cookies.

While Taylor set up his boxes of cookies, Rocco carefully wrote down his two cookie types, and underneath where his recipes had come from.

Teresa Hall and Beatrice Moretti.

When he finished, he set the sign at the front of the table and took a step back, gazing at it. Taylor joined him, wrapping an arm around his waist, tugging him in.

“That looks . . .” He trailed off.

Rocco knew what he wanted to say and hesaidit. “Right. It looks right.”

“Yeah,” Taylor agreed, giving him one last squeeze.

“What a beautiful display,” Marlene said, approaching them. “And are these yourmom’s cookies, Taylor? I remember these.”

“I found them in an old cookbook Harvey at the museum helped me dig up,” Rocco said and felt a warm thrill as Marlene smiled, nodding approvingly.

“What a beautiful gesture, Rocco,” she said.

“Yes, very much so.”

An older lady with curly white hair approached.

“Marjorie, good to see you here,” Taylor said, disentangling from Rocco and reaching over to shake her hand. “Have you met Rocco Moretti, who bought Jolly Java this summer?”

Rocco greeted Marjorie, who he figured out Taylor had run into at another one of the festival events.

After she’d gone to a different table, Marlene turned to Taylor and Rocco. “Did you know she’s all alone at Christmas?”

Taylor nodded. “I met her the other day and she told me, about her family, and how none of them live here. It’s too bad.”

“Even worse,” Marlene said, “did you know her birthday’s December 23rd?”

“Really? That feels appropriate for living here,” Rocco said.

But Marlene shook her head. “I suppose, but I think it would be lonely too, and difficult because nobody worries about celebrating it. It’s just Christmas, you know? And here, Christmas iseverything.”

“That’s actually kind of sad,” Taylor said quietly, his gaze following Marjorie as she greeted Mrs. Lil on the other side of the room.

“I agree,” Marlene said. “Alright, I’ve got to make sure everyone else is situated. Andoh, Heath just got here.”

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