Page 21 of Second Chance in Charlevoix
She even tolerated Skipper more than Sam. Instead of putting aside her summer crush, Izzy bought special stationery. The letters and cards she sent often smelled of Sam's Spellbound perfume. They were mailed directly from the post office. Sure, there were emails too, but emails couldn’t be sent with perfume.
Now that she was herself a mother, Izzy’s high school antics made her chuckle. If Holly ever brought home a boy who looked and acted like Skipper Malone, she would probably move heaven and earth to monitor their relationship.
Finishing up the trays, Izzy hung the dishtowels up to dry.
“Everything good at the house?” Skipper asked as he rolled out more of his buttery dough.
“I left your mother watchingSesame Street.”
The amazed look that lit up Skipper's eyes echoed her own surprise. “No way.” Skipper folded the dough again and again. He was a master with that roller.
“I totally agree. How does your mother get downstairs? I thought she needed a walker.”
Skipper wiped his brow with the back of one arm. “I carried her downstairs early this morning. She insisted on making me some eggs. Now what's up with that?”
The comment made Izzy laugh. “Is that a not so subtle hint that I should be cooking your breakfast?”
Skipper lifted a brow. Yes, he sure did look like a wicked pirate in that red bandana. “We both know that's never going to happen.” His comment stung and it must have shown. “Sorry, Izzy, but…”
“I know,” she said with a sigh. “Back then I was a terrible cook. And that hasn’t changed much.” Everything had been done for her and sometimes she wished her sisters and aunt had just stepped back and let her try. Try to make her own bed. Try to cook her breakfast. Wasn’t that how Marlowe and Sam had learned? She remembered dad cooking breakfast in one of the big iron skillets. Sometimes, he’d pull a chair over so Sam could watch until gradually she was breaking and even flipping the eggs. He’d done the same with Marlowe. Izzy had just about reached that age when tragedy struck.
When Izzy heard the bell ring she snapped her attention back to the bakery. Debbie was out front and had unlocked the door. Customers were arriving. Time to set out more croissants and tarts.
“My mother ordered a roast from Lakeside Meat for tonight.” Skipper didn't sound very happy and Izzy turned. “I have to pick it up on my lunch hour.”
“Lunch hour?” They never really took time off for lunch but the look on Skipper’s face told her that maybe they should. Usually they ate on the run. The man was her mainstay in this shop and Izzy struggled to pull her thoughts together. “Lakeside? That's a little drive up toward Petoskey, right?”
“Anything for my mother…and our guests,” he said with a slow shake of his head.
Guests?What did he mean? “We are not guests, Skipper. I'll have you know I washed the dishes this morning.”
Concentrating on his dough, Skipper ducked his head but not before she saw his smile. “Trying to earn points with my mother?”
“Maybe. Leave whenever you like. What's up next?” she nodded to whatever he was rolling out.
“Chocolate croissants.”
Izzy fingered her waistband under the apron. She needed stronger willpower. Working around these daily delights had added ten pounds or more. She was a slave to chocolate and he knew it. “Chocolate croissants. My favorite.”
“I know.” Skipper began to hum as he worked. Was that “Saving All My Love for you”? Couldn’t be.
The back room seemed warm. Grabbing a towel,she dampened it down with cold water and then took it out into the main dining area. When she started wiping off the tables, Debbie gave her a questioning look. “Hey, I already did that.”
Standing there with the towel in her hand, Izzy tried to think of a comeback when Josh McCall entered. That man was still looking haggard.
“You're making a habit out of this,” she told him with a little laugh.
“I need my coffee first thing.”
“And the coffee at your office isn't any good?”
When he pushed his jacket back to jam his hands into his slacks, she saw the stethoscope tucked into an upper pocket. “Our coffee’s terrible, but don’t tell my assistant.”
This was pathetic. Josh was miserable and so was Sam. Izzy had to do something about this. After Josh left, Izzy bustled back to the work area, put her work rag away and checked tomorrow's schedule. Skipper always worked one up a week in advance. “Can you add some apple tarts to tomorrow's list?”
“Sure.” Skipper turned, his eyes dancing. “Want to tell me why?”
“Nope. And thank you.” He might think her idea was stupid. And maybe it was.
