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Derek had rented the dark-green house from an older woman who’d left the island to reconnect with her children, who were based in Florida. He had really fallen for the place since his move-in, although he attributed most of that to the fact that he could enter any of the rooms and not feel barreled over with memories. In fact, the old woman had left most of her furniture, the TV, the art hanging on the wall, and even the silverware and plates. It made Derek feel as though he was allowed solace from his normal life.
Now, he stood in the foyer of the house with this piece of thick paper in-hand. It suggested that the family-owned Frosted Delights Bakery had some kind of authority over him and could therefore sue him to ensure they could keep their building on the property that he’d bought months before.
It was so small-town, so mindless that Derek almost had to laugh.
He returned to the kitchen, where he’d just poured himself a glass of whiskey. On the stovetop was the leftover pasta he’d cooked earlier in the evening, along with the sauce that had begun to harden to the sides of the pan. Years ago, Angela had always nagged at him not to let things sit like that. “You’re just going to make it harder on us later,” she’d said. Now that he was all alone, he fell into these self-made traps frequently. He knew that if Emma caught him like that, she would scold him just like her mother had.
The woman who had appeared with the letter was the same woman Derek had seen at the Frosted Delights Bakery on that one Saturday when he’d decided to stop by and check it out. He had run out of coffee at his house, and his tongue had ached for some sweet pastries. When he’d entered the bakery, he hadn’t thought to himself that he should totally rethink tearing this down. He supposed this was because, on the surface, the place really wasn’t so special. The style and decor were from another lost generation. There were only a few tables and chairs in the front. The sweet selection they’d had was beautiful, naturally—but it really would have looked better in a different, updated counter.
Hadn’t this woman ever been off the island? Didn’t she understand what was possible, in terms of updating to a more modern style, and perhaps some marketing and all that jazz?
Anyway, it was clear to him that the bakery needed to be bulldozed to the ground. It was one of a number of old, washed-up businesses that sat on the property he would build upon. It was the ideal stretch of land, as it cut out toward the water beautifully. The views outside the restaurant he planned to build within the event space would be immaculate. The gazebo he planned to build out near the water would play host to an infinite number of lovers, all who met there to kiss and fall in love as they gazed out across the Nantucket Sound.
This bakery? The Frosted Delights Bakery? It had nothing to do with his plans.
Derek glanced again at the whiskey, which he hadn’t yet taken a sip of. He tapped his belly, thought better of the whiskey, and then rushed toward the bedroom to change into thick running pants, two sweatshirts, a ball cap and his tennis shoes. Yet again, he wanted to remain hyper-focused on his health. All that pasta had been a mistake.
He had to keep himself around for Emma.
He wanted to build up the courage to have a big, beautiful life.
Of course, in order to do any of that, he really had to find a way to wage war on the grief that had wrapped itself around and around him. Some days, he found it difficult to draw himself out of bed. According to the books he’d read, this was normal. He remembered a Tolkien quote he had read once: “I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.” He wished he could feel that the tears were useful, but they just seemed to weigh him down even more.
Once outside, he kicked up to a good pace and traced a path through Edgartown. There was something beautiful and sacred about running at night, especially in the wintertime. The air felt like icicles across his cheeks, and his hair froze to his neck, but his bones and his muscles felt spry and agile, and the Christmas lights illuminated everything into a kind of fairyland. When he ran quickly enough, he found a way to escape the inner turmoil of his heart.
After a good five miles, he reappeared at his door and clutched his knees. He gasped for breath, grateful that he had found a way to weave through the inner chaos of his mind. Maybe he could have that whiskey, after all. He deserved it.
After he’d showered, he sat beneath a blanket and flicked through the TV channels. His whiskey was a calming balm across the back of his throat. As he settled in on an old Clint Eastwood film, his phone buzzed and produced a single name: EMMA.
His heart lurched. He absolutely lived for news from Emma. He hadn’t heard from her much since his visit to NYC the previous week, and he hadn’t wanted to bother her, especially if she was embarrassed about what had happened with Will. He never wanted Emma to think that he judged her or thought ill of her decisions. He only wanted her to know his love.
“Hey!” he said.
But immediately, the once-happy girl on the other side of the line burst into tears. They were the kind of tears that didn’t allow her to breathe very well. Panicked, Derek stood from his chair and paced the floor. He tried to say all the things he thought a father should say, all the things he would say when she’d been a little girl and needed assurance.
“What is it, honey? You can tell me. I’m here,” he murmured into his cell phone.
All the while, Emma sniffled and spun out of control. “I am so embarrassed,” she said finally.
Had she failed a test? Had she gotten a bad haircut?
Was this all about her mother?
It could have been anything. Derek braced himself for the worst.
“Whatever it is, we can work through it. Together,” he told her.
Emma paused. She seemed to set down her phone. Then, there was the almost-funny sound of her blowing her nose. Derek could picture her doing it as a little girl, still trying to get the hang of it.
Finally, she returned to the line.
“Sorry about this, Daddy,” she said.
She hadn’t called him Daddy in years.
“It’s okay, honey. Like I said, whatever it is, we can get through it.”
“I don’t know about that. I know you—you’re so excited about it—and I...” She trailed off.
“What’s happened?”
“We called off the wedding,” Emma said.
The sound of sirens tore through Derek’s ears. He had the funniest image of himself, blowing a fist through that horrible Will’s chin.
“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry,” Derek whispered. “That sounds really hard.”
“It is,” Emma replied through her tears. She coughed and sputtered again for a moment, then added, “I don’t know what went wrong. We’ve been so happy for two years. He—he’s my everything. Daddy, I don’t think I can handle life without him. Not now. Not without Mom, too.”
The words sliced through Derek’s heart. After a long silence, he said, “Did he at least wait until you were done with all your finals to end it?”
Emma’s voice quivered. “I just have one more to turn in. It’s a written one, and I’m mostly finished with it.”
“That’s a relief, at least,” Derek said.
“Yeah. What a great guy. He waited till I was done with my finals to ruin my life,” Emma groaned.
Derek felt it: that same glimmer of humor that Emma always had. Maybe all wasn’t lost, after all. Maybe they really could find a way through this.
“I want you here on Martha’s Vineyard with me. Sooner rather than later, Bug,” Derek said suddenly.
The original plan had been for Emma to spend more time in NYC, then visit Will’s family for the early part of the Christmas holiday, then head over to Martha’s Vineyard to visit Derek. This breakup, though? It had certainly opened up a wealth of possibilities for Derek Thatcher. It was possible that he wouldn’t have to spend much time alone.
In fact, he might have the most important woman in the world with him for Christmas, which made his heart swell with love and happiness.
“Are you sure I won’t be putting you out?” Emma asked.
“That’s ridiculous. Honey, this will be our first Christmas without your mother. I need you here with me. You’re always welcome,” he said.
“Ugh. I think you’re right about this city,” Emma confessed. He could hear the smile behind her voice. “It’s so loud and cramped and dirty. I think a trip to Martha’s Vineyard is definitely overdue. Should I bring you a bagel?”
“If you don’t bring me a classic New York bagel, I will disown you,” Derek said. His laughter was contagious through the line; a few seconds later, Emma’s laughter joined his. It was the best sound in the world.
At that moment, he was overwhelmingly happy—happier than he’d been since his wife’s passing. The only downfall was that it came at the price of his daughter’s very sincere sadness.
“Okay. I’ll text you more details as I know them,” Emma said. Again, she heaved a sigh. “I just can’t believe this. One minute, you think you have this future laid out before you. And the next...”
“Emma, honey. Everything happens for a reason. I know it doesn’t seem like that now, but it will.”
Derek knew this all too well. Hadn’t he and Angela had big plans for their future together? Hadn’t they dreamed of retirement, of sailing, of falling deeper in love as they grew old and frail together in their old age?
Emma and Derek said goodnight a few minutes later. Derek regretted it; he knew how difficult the night would be for Emma. Always, that first night after a breakup was the worst. He could remember those nights, as his heart had crumbled in his chest and he’d hunted for his own sleep that he knew would never come.
He sat in front of the television for a long time after Emma hung up. He sipped his whiskey slowly, letting it spread across his tongue. For reasons he couldn’t fully understand, he typed “FROSTED DELIGHTS BAKERY” into the search bar on his phone. Seconds later, he arrived at their website—which looked like it hadn’t been updated since 2002.
The Frosted Delights Bakery has been in Ariane Conrad’s family for three generations. Come on down for one of our specialty lattes, specialty donuts, cakes, or other delights. We love you, Edgartown!
It was a cheesy description for a place Derek really shouldn’t have cared for. Even still, he perused the bottom of the webpage, where he found a number of photographs of pastries and coffees. Then, at the very bottom was a photo that looked like it had been taken maybe twenty-five years before.
In it were six teenage girls. They all held onto one another and grinned broadly at the camera. Each looked as though she’d just been handed a ticket to the Wonka Chocolate Factory. Beneath the photo, a caption read: The Sisters of Edgartown.
Derek placed his phone back on the arm of his chair and leaned back. As a man of incredible wealth, he hadn’t dealt with anything so small-town, so “quaint” in a number of years. But something about that photo tugged at his heartstrings. It reminded him of the way he loved his daughter — with every fiber of his being, in ways he couldn’t even fully describe. He would have done anything for her. And she was so much of the reason why he wanted to build this event space in Edgartown.
He wanted to prove to her and to himself that he wasn’t dead. When Angela died, the world had very nearly crumbled around him. But he knew he would remain, and he would make the best of his time. He had to. He had a beautiful daughter to live for.