Page 10 of Second Chance in Charlevoix
“I hope you won't need to. I mean, we're staying here, right?” Marlowe sent Sam a teasing glance and reached for the bottle of wine. Aunt Cate handed her a wine glass. “Although if you moved into the home of a handsome and very available orthopedic surgeon, you might not be living here at Sunnycrest.”
“Stop. Just stop.” Clearly Sam wasn’t in the mood for joking. The smell of spaghetti rose from the microwave.
“Okay, not going to ask any more questions.” Jumping up, Marlowe rustled around in the silverware drawer and began to set the table. “No need to have all your stuff here right now, right? Once you have a storage shed, you’ll just end up going to visit it every other day. Like me.”
“They said it might take a week.” Poor Sam. She was always so organized. Izzy could remember their lunches set out on the kitchen table every morning. After their folks were gone and Aunt Cate had returned to New York, Sam had taken care of everything, including their lunches. And she always managed to include a cheerful note, like “You are the sunshine of my life.” Her sister had come through for them like a champ. The older Izzy got, the more she realized what an effort that must have been.
“Why don’t you give Josh a call?” Izzy saidsoftly. The look she got from Sam made her regret the question. But why? Why were these two fighting something that was so obvious? She wanted Sam to be happy. And Josh made her happy. Okay, so Sam hadn’t gotten along with the widower’s kids the first time she went to their house for dinner. That might take some time, but sweet Josh was worth the trouble. Sam’s ex-husband had been terrible to her during their divorce. She deserved to be happy.
“The two of us have agreed, Izzy. For now, we’re taking a break. And that’s that.” Her big sister turned away. How many times had Sam used that parental attitude with her when Izzy was in grade school?And that’s that. Sam would try to lay down the law.
But it was time Sam learned that Izzy wasn’t a child. Maybe she needed an intervention. The wheels began turning in Izzy’s mind. “I think I’ll have a glass of that wine now.”
Chapter 5
Izzy
Her stomach was doing cartwheels when Izzy burst through the back door of Coffee and Cupcakes the following morning. What if Skipper’s mother had stood her ground? It would be perfectly understandable. No way would Irene want her around. What had Izzy been thinking? She’d hardly slept a wink.
If Mrs. Malone told her son absolutely not, what would Izzy do? The renovation was getting messier every day. Up to that point Holly had a pretty structured life. Now everything was up in the air. Although Izzy couldn’t believe she felt this way, she wanted some peace and quiet. And she wanted a safe environment for her little girl.
That morning Mrs. Goodman had mentioned that Holly had a dry cough. Izzy told her about the workbeing done at Sunnycrest. The daycare owner had looked at her as if she were insane. “Not a very good environment for a growing baby, I would say.”
“I’m working on it,” Izzy had murmured. Their plan of renovating Sunnycrest had seemed wonderful last winter. Now she wondered. Izzy wasn’t known for being realistic. But her sisters and Aunt Cate were. She was depending on them to pull this off, but some days she felt overwhelmed. If Skipper had bad news today, what was her Plan B? She didn’t have one.
“Good morning,” she sang out, hanging up her jacket. Debbie’s coat and bag were already on the hooks so the front door would be opening soon. She sniffed the air. Through the heavenly aroma of bread and cupcakes came an even sweeter scent. “Do I smell pears?”
Skipper was bent over the counter. A lock of blond hair had escaped that wicked red bandana. His brow furrowed in concentration as he sliced pears into thin strips. Baking sheets were already cooling in the racks and Izzy wandered over. She hadn’t had time that morning to eat breakfast. A chocolate croissant would do nicely. The pastry was still warm when Izzy took the first bite.
“What time did you get here?” she asked, whisking flaky crumbs from her lips.
“Four o’clock. I wanted to have enough pear tarts to start the day.” Two sheets of the delectable pastrieswere already cooling. Skipper had a great work ethic. She admired him for that.
“Maybe I’ll put a sign in the window about the pear tarts. We sold out yesterday.” Glancing over at the desk she saw her forgotten box. Tonight. She’d take them home tonight.
“Good idea.” Nipping his lower lip as she’d seen him do so many times, Skipper didn’t look up. This wasn’t a good sign and her doomsday imagination went wild. Tears filled her eyes. She crammed in the final bite of the croissant. What was she going to do? Grabbing a tray of snickerdoodles that probably hadn’t cooled yet, she wheeled around and streaked down the hallway into the tearoom. “Morning, Debbie.”
“Hi, what have you got there?” Debbie looked up from where she was arranging fresh mugs around the coffee carafes. “Sorry, I saw those cookies out back but didn’t think they were cool enough to bring out.”
“You’re probably right.” The metal sheet was still warm in Izzy’s hand and she set it on the ledge behind the counter. Pulling out a tray from the display case, she helped Debbie arrange the chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies. “I want to put a sign in the window about the pear tarts.” Pear and Almond Delight. Was that a stupid name? She sure hoped they’d be delighted.
Somedays Izzy suffered from a severe lack of selfconfidence.
Why had she asked Skipper to take Holly and Izzy into his home? The idea was stupid. Of course her former mother-in-law wouldn’t want Izzy around. She’d fight Skipper tooth and nail for even suggesting such a ridiculous thing. Izzy’s thoughts veered from one direction to the other like a pinball machine. And her spirits sank deeper.
“I like the name Pear and Almond Delights. Here, I’ll handle the sign.” Opening a drawer where they kept supplies, Debbie pulled out some construction board and a marker. Deb had an artistic streak and used a cute font for the signage. In no time at all, the sign was posted in the window. People started coming inside. Many had their shopping totes slung over their shoulders to carry home fresh bread. The new tarts were cool enough to arrange on a sheet and Izzy took care of it, while Debbie worked the counter.
Her spirits temporarily lifted, Izzy scurried to the back. More of the pear tarts were ready. Breads were stacked on the racks along with cupcakes, cookies and croissants. As usual, Skipper spun from one task to another. Then he stopped and turned to fix her with a serious look that wiped the smile from her face. Skipper looked like he’d just remembered his bad news.
“Izzy, we need to talk.” Looking super serious, Skipper wiped his brow with the back of one hand.
Was this when he’d tell her that no way could shemove in with him and his mom? His blue eyes burning, he faced her, hands on hips. “I need some help. No way can I handle all the bread and pastries, as well as fixing luncheon plates for the tearoom.”
The breath left Izzy’s body so fast that she felt dizzy. Gripping the edge of the worktable, she gasped, “Help?” If he only knew that they were barely making it.
“Yes. Look around.” Standing straighter, he swept an arm toward the stainless steel racks. The short sleeves on his tee shirt made her wonder. When had he become so muscular?
“Skipper, I know you work hard, but basically we’re a bakery with a tearoom.”
