Page 81 of The Estate
“Nope,” his former best friend drawled with a shake of his head. “Don’t look at me. I’m still with Jacks on this. You’re a butthead.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Time for a Change
Rachel pulled into a parking space just three down from Pie in the Sky. Turning off the car, she sat for a minute, enjoying the stillness. Lisa had called an emergency girls’ dinner and attendance was mandatory. At first, she considered refusing outright, but another night at home stewing over everything was about as welcome as a root canal. That said, dinner with the girls promised to be equally emotional.
When she’d dragged herself to the office on Monday morning, Rachel gave Lisa an overview of everything that had happened with Jess in the White Hall parking lot. While she had assured Lisa she was fine, the ensuing days did not bear that out. The stress was showing in her body and her mood. She wasn’t sleeping well. She’d lost her appetite. Honestly, it felt as though she were moving through molasses.
It hadn’t taken long for Lisa to notice and corner her on Wednesday, demanding an emergency dinner. Rachel finally agreed to come with the stipulation that she would bring dessert, and it would be chocolate. She hadn’t been eating, but suddenly she was hungry for just one thing. Chocolate. And lots of it. She’d told Lisa no one was allowed to complain or question her choice of solace. If dinner was mandatory, Rachel was making chocolate non-negotiable.
Leaving the car, she ambled toward the bakery, enjoying the crispness of the air. While it was getting darker earlier, that also meant fall was here. And fall in New England was practically her favorite thing ever—the changing leaf colors, the apple cider donuts, and the coziness of a good sweater. Too bad she wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it right now.
She and Jess had spoken again briefly. They still had a long road ahead to repair their relationship, but Rachel hoped it was a fixable issue, not an insurmountable issue. She knew Jess was working with Cal on the event, but so far she had steadfastly refused to consider Cal and the words they’d said to each other. Unpacking the issues with her sister was almost all she could handle.
Walking through the bakery’s door, she inhaled deeply, feeling a piece of her soul heal just a little. She still felt raw and exposed, but she must be doing something right if she could bask in the aromas swirling around her, making everything seem better. She started looking through the cases, trying to locate the one dessert that called to her.
Mrs. S breezed in from the back, interrupting Rachel’s hunt. “I thought that was you, Rachel. How are you? What can I get you?”
“Hi Mrs. S,” she smiled at the older woman, enjoying the cloud of sugar scent that seemed to follow her wherever she went. “I’m looking for something and only chocolate will do. The more decadent, the better. Calories be damned.”
Mrs. S smiled even as she started glancing through the cases. “A girl after my own heart,” she replied. “This late in the day, we don’t have much left, but,” she straightened and peered at Rachel. “How do you feel about tall, dark, and chocolate? It’s a four-layer chocolate cake filled with chocolate mousseand espresso cream, decorated with a chocolate cream cheese frosting, and chocolate ganache?”
“How do I feel about it? I think I would marry it, Mrs. S. Please tell me you have one of those hidden in your apron.”
Mrs. S laughed. “Well, not in my apron, but in the fridge out back. It was made today for tomorrow’s case.”
“Oh,” Rachel hesitated. “I don’t want to put you out or leave you short tomorrow.”
“Nonsense! A cake’s a cake no matter when it’s sold. Let me grab it so you can take a look.” She disappeared while Rachel attempted to tell her mouth to stop salivating. As tempting as it would be to sit in her car, just her, a fork and the cake, she had to make it to Lisa and Lottie’s at least before diving in fork first.
When Mrs. S came out carrying it, Rachel thought for sure she heard angels singing. It was glorious. “Mrs. S,” she breathed. “If it tastes half as good as it looks, I will be in a chocolate sugar coma by nightfall.”
“Isn’t that the point?” she replied, grabbing a bakery box. “Incidentally, I met your sister yesterday,” she continued as she boxed up the creation. “And she’s just as lovely as you are.”
Rachel smiled. “How did you two meet?”
“Oh, Cal from White Hall Estate was in. He needs some desserts for the gala. It’s a little last minute, but I’m always willing to help a fellow small business owner. Cal introduced me. He said she’s working with him now. You must be happy for her.”
Rachel struggled to push down the spurt of fear she felt and focus instead on the happy. “I’m very excited for Jess. It’s an enormous opportunity. I hope it all works out.” So much forshelving her fear. Mrs. S creased her brow and examined Rachel closely.
She tried again. “The gala promises to be an outstanding event. I know Cal and Jess are working really hard. It’s such a big event…” her voice petered off.
Mrs. S gave a sharp shake of her head. “And you’re afraid something will go wrong.”
“Oh no,” she deferred. “I mean no. I’m sure they’ll get everything done perfectly.”
“But you’re afraid something will go wrong,” she persisted with a wry smile. “I get it. I really do.” She paused briefly, seeming to struggle with something. “I realize you and your sister lost your parents when you were younger, so I hope you won’t take offense to an old lady poking her nose in. I didn’t have the privilege of knowing your folks, but what I know is that they’d want to see their kids soar.
“And in order to do that, you have to take risks, make mistakes, and rise triumphantly. That’s life. Trying and failing. Flying and falling. Your sister is soaring. Don’t clip her wings.” Passing the large blue bakery box over the counter to Rachel, she added, “Don’t clip your wings either.”
Rachel took the box, her mind turning over Mrs. S’s words. They sounded so much like something her mom would have said. Maybe she had allowed fear to consume her.
What she wouldn’t give to speak with her mom about about all of this. Then again, maybe her mom was working a little magic from the beyond in the shape of a four-layer chocolate cake and a baker with a mother’s heart.
Reaching for her wallet, she asked, “Thank you, Mrs. S. I’ll… I’ll give that some thought. I appreciate your advice. How much do I owe you?”
“On the house, dear, for me butting into things not my business.” Mrs. S waved her off.
