Holly didn’t go to the restaurant that Saturday. Her sister’s wedding was mere weeks away, and she had yet to settle on a cake design. Holly had decided Zachary could manage the restaurant without her for the day. In many ways, he seemed to manage better than Holly ever did. He was more than a great cook. He was calm in the midst of any storm. She envied him that.
A little before noon, Holly reached for her phone, opened the camera app, and took several photos from different angles. Then she texted them to Trixie, along with the question: Thoughts on this naked cake? (Means not frosted all over.)
It wasn’t long before she got Trixie’s reply: Love it! Different. Can you add flowers to the berries?
Holly put down her phone and went into the spare bedroom. In a basket in the closet, she found different kinds of artificial flowers. She grabbed several bunches and returned to the kitchen. There she placed the various blooms on different layers as well as the stand and took a couple more photos.
Text to Trixie: Examples only. Can match your bouquet.
Text to Holly: Perfect. Love it. Naked cake. Scandalous for a wedding?
Holly laughed before texting back that she thought it was okay. When Trixie didn’t send another reply, Holly returned her attention to the cake. It really was pretty, garnished with blueberries, raspberries, strawberries, and blackberries. Simple, yet elegant.
She picked up the nearby bowl and carried it to the sink. Before washing it, she ran her index finger around the bottom, scraping up the remaining frosting. She closed her eyes as she put her finger between her lips and let the vanilla buttercream flavor burst to life in her mouth. How long had it been since she’d allowed herself this much pleasure? Ages. Ages and ages. It was more than simply a day off. It was more even than getting to bake and play with designs. She felt a strange kind of freedom. Happiness, even. Worries awaited her, but for this moment she refused to let them enter her mind.
Turning, she looked at the cake again. Of all of her different ideas for Trixie’s wedding cake, she liked this one the best. Of course this was a smaller version of the one she would make for the day itself.
After removing the artificial flowers, she lifted the cake stand with both hands and carefully carried the confection down to the extra refrigerator in the basement. There it would stay for a couple of hours before she drove it over to the Lighthouse women and children’s shelter.
As she left the basement, her gaze went to the connecting doorway to the apartment, and she wondered what Jed was doing today. Their paths hadn’t crossed much since their dinner at the Riverfront three days earlier. One of them always seemed to be returning when the other one was headed out somewhere. Smiles and a few exchanged pleasantries hadn’t been enough for Holly. She’d missed his company. Missed it more than she should, but she no longer tried to deny how much she liked him, even if the feelings still frightened her.
Letting out a breath, she climbed the stairs. At the landing, she flicked off the basement light. Pumpkin’s demanding meow drew Holly into the utility room, where she dispensed a few cat treats into a bowl across from the washer and dryer. She was rewarded with a loud purr of approval and a head rub.
“You’re welcome, baby.” She gave the cat’s coat a few strokes before returning to the kitchen. “Alexa, play my 1960s favorites.”
To the words and music of “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’,” Holly slow danced around the kitchen until she reached the sink. After wetting a cloth under the faucet, she began the task of cleaning up from her baking session. Her choice of music was thanks to her mom’s influence. When Holly was a girl, she and her mom had cooked and baked to the music of the sixties and seventies. Holly had never outgrown the habit. She could name more song titles and more artists from those two decades than she could from the first two decades of the twenty-first century. Her friends in school had thought her a bit strange because of it. She didn’t care.
By the time the Beach Boys began to sing “Good Vibrations,” the dishes and pans had been washed, dried, and put away, the counters wiped down, and the floor swept. Holly glanced around the room, loving her cheery kitchen. Then, swirling the dish towel over her head, she spun and gyrated around the island, letting the beat decide her movements.
* * *
Back from a late-morning run along the Greenbelt, Jed grinned as he watched Holly dance past the kitchen windows. He couldn’t see all of her movements from where he stood on the sidewalk, but he saw enough to love it. It was too adorable. No, she was too adorable. Leaning slightly forward, he strained to hear the music. Nothing except for the thrum of the bass.
Holly’s dancing stopped suddenly, and her gaze met Jed’s through the glass. He guessed there might be a blush rising in her cheeks. His smile broadened as he waved. A heartbeat later, he moved toward the back door. She met him there.
“What was the song?” he asked, still grinning.
“‘Good Vibrations.’”
“The Beach Boys?”
She was definitely blushing. “Yes.”
“Before your time. That’s for sure.”
“Before your time too.” She seemed to relax, and her laughter came easily. “My mom always listened to her favorite music when we baked. Her favorites became my favorites. At least in the kitchen.”
Jed leaned his forearm on the doorjamb. “Holly Stanford, you’re full of surprises.”
“I think I like that.”
“I think I do too.” He also liked the ease with which she met his gaze, the absence of the all-too-common wariness in her eyes.
She took a step back, opening the door fully. “Do you have time to come in?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” He followed her inside.
“I made a cake for Trixie to consider,” she said when she reached the island. “It got a thumbs-up. This one’s much smaller than she’ll need for the wedding, but it gave her the idea.”
A hint of vanilla lingered in the air, but no sign of baking could be seen in the kitchen. Jed motioned around the room. “Where’s the cake? Did you eat it already?”
“No.” She gave him a playful punch on the arm. “It’s in the basement fridge. I’m going to take it over to the Lighthouse in a little bit.” She paused for a moment, then added, “Would you like to come with me?”
What he would like to do was lean in and kiss her, but he settled for “Sure.”
Something flickered in her eyes. Had she guessed his real desire? And would she have welcomed the kiss? Maybe, but he didn’t want to rush her. He didn’t want to make the wrong move and hurt her. He would never want to hurt her.
She broke eye contact, lowering her gaze. “I . . . I’d better change my clothes before we go.” She untied the apron and pulled it over her head. “Meet me at the back door in half an hour?”
“I’ll be there.”
Holly hadn’t taken more than a few steps toward the hallway before Jed made himself scarce. Once down in his basement apartment, he peeled off his shirt on the way to the bathroom, where he showered off the morning. As he lathered on the soap, he closed his eyes, remembering the way Holly had looked as she danced around the kitchen. A moment later he realized he was whistling “Good Vibrations.” He laughed at himself, feeling in great spirits. He’d been looking forward to the hike tomorrow. This afternoon was a bonus.
The half hour she’d requested wasn’t up yet as he closed his apartment door behind him. That didn’t matter. He found her waiting for him, holding a cake in a large cardboard box with both hands.
“Want me to take that for you?” He held out his hands.
“I’ve got it. But you can open the hatch of my car for me.”
He moved ahead. Both garage door and hatch were open in short order.
“Thanks.” She set the cake box on a foam mat in the center of the level surface.
“So that’s what Trixie’s cake’s going to look like?”
“Yes.” She closed the hatch. “Only bigger.”
“Nice.”
She smiled at him. “Tastes good too.”
“Didn’t doubt it.”
They looked at each other for a moment more, then turned in unison toward their respective sides of the SUV.
The light banter the two of them had begun to exchange surprised Jed every time it happened. He’d never felt such ease with a woman. What was it about Holly that made the difference? He glanced over at her. She drove with her hands at nine and three. Her eyes were focused on the road ahead, breaking only to check both ways at the cross streets. A defensive driver. Even that seemed adorable to Jed.
Man, I’ve got it bad. He grinned as he looked out the passenger window. And I’m not the least bit sorry.