Page 18 of Frosting and Flames

We talk for a few minutes more and I turn around to head back to the bakery, but I’m stopped halfway by Mrs. Montour and her Yorkie, Dolly, out for a midday walk. There’s no way I can politely smile and keep walking, or she’ll take it as a personaloffense. She’s a regular customer, coming in religiously every Sunday morning for a dozen cinnamon rolls.

“How are you, dear?” She gives me a hug, the same as she does to everyone. “I talked to your mom last week. Sounds like she’s having the time of her life on that cruise.”

I make some kind of agreement and bend to pet Dolly, using the dog as a distraction so I don’t have to say anything about Mom. Dolly’s fur is like the softest silk, gliding beneath my fingers, and she gives me a satisfied huff from her tiny snout, her tail wagging.

Mrs. Montour goes on to talk about how she herself doesn’t trust boats. “I don’t do places where the bathroom might be a bucket. Plus, they make my vertigo act up.”

She continues on, but I’m only half-paying attention. Mrs. Montour loves to hear herself talk, and after her husband died a few years ago, she has no one to blather to at home. Only poor Dolly.

My ears tune in, though, when she says, “I saw Kyle and that new thing of his down at the diner the other day. Well, not so new anymore, is it? Not with her out to here.” She holds her hand away from her stomach in an exaggerated way. “Finally popped for all the world to see, that one. Bless her heart.”

A weight crashes into my chest. I bet she was dying to drop that bomb in casual conversation.

I give Dolly one last pet and stand again, pasting a smile on my lips. “I’d prefer not to talk about them, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Oh my gosh, where are my manners? Of course, dear.” Though she seems properly chastened, I’m not fooled for a minute, especially not when that crafty look enters her eye. “Have you been seeing anyone since?” She lays a hand on my arm, her wedding ring still on her left ring finger, even yearslater, flashing in the sunlight. “You deserve a good man, honey. Not a boy. Always said that one wasn’t raised right.”

“I’m doing fine by myself. Focusing on the bakery.”

“Well, you let me know when you’re ready to get out there again. I know a few men who—”

I’m saved by my phone ringing, and I send a silent prayer of thankfulness to the cellular gods as I fish it out of my pocket, giving Mrs. Montour an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. I have to take this.”

She waves me off cheerfully. “I’ll see you Sunday for my cinnamon rolls.”

I smile and turn, hurrying in the direction of the bakery as I answer the phone. I didn’t even check who was calling. “Hello?”

“Hey, where’s the silicone mold with the heart shapes? I can’t find it anywhere.”

Thank God. It’s just Sydney. “It got a crack in it, so I had to toss it.”

“Damn it. I wanted to make mousse hearts to go on the anniversary cake for—”

“I already ordered a replacement. It should be here later today.”

“Oh, good. You’re the best, thanks.”

She hangs up, but I keep my phone at my ear, in case Mrs. Montour can still see me.

I push her comments about Kyle and Autumn out of my head, but one lingers.You deserve a good man.

Nick flashes into my mind unexpectedly. Jae swearing he’d been looking at me. Sydney saying I don’t act like myself around him.

I swallow hard, unsure what to do with the strange connections buzzing in my brain. It’s… it’s only because I’ll be seeing him this Saturday.

The fundraiser will go fine. I’ll probably barely see him.

But with my luck, anything could happen.

CHAPTER FIVE

RACHEL

“How are your parents doing?” Fire Chief Adkins asks as he shows Jae and I where to put our purses inside the station’s break room. “They’re on that world cruise, right?”

I force myself to smile, my stomach somersaulting its way up my torso. Why am I nervous? It’s just pancakes.

It’s not just pancakes, and you know it.

---