Later in the Bean, Kaitlyn was trying to force-feed cookies to anyone she could, starting with her mom, Sara, Gabby, and Gwen. She had her notebook nearby, where she was recording all the different ways she’d altered the recipes for three separate batches of cookies she’d just baked. This was the one good result from her talk with Rafe: it was making her bake like crazy. Anything to avoid thinking of all the feelings he’d stirred up with what he’d confessed this morning.
The Christmas lights were on around the windows, and Hazel had helped Kaitlyn loop more light strings all along the ceiling, wedging the wires between the ceiling tiles. They’d also strung ornaments from fishing line, making the ambience in the Bean welcoming and very Christmasy. On the mounted TV in the corner, the movie Elf was playing, and a group of seniors were drinking their happy hour two-for-one Christmas drinks and chuckling at the antics of Buddy, the very tall and very misplaced elf. Several tables of teens were doing homework and watching too. One boy kept surreptitiously watching Hazel as she worked behind the counter.
Hazel stopped by to steal a cookie. “Not bad,” she said, flying past on her way to take someone’s order. Worry gnawed in Kaitlyn’s stomach even as she smiled at her niece. She’d intended to show Hazel a quiet weekend with a nice family and instead the teenager had gotten family drama over the baby announcement, Nonna’s nosedive into the tree, and a midnight ferry ride to an all-night hospital marathon. But despite all the tumult, Hazel seemed…better. More settled. Happier? And she certainly was getting the hang of making coffee drinks.
“What’s this one?” Gwen asked, examining the first of three plates of chocolate cookies.
Kaitlyn lifted the plate and held it out. “Taste one and tell me what you think.”
Mr. Iocona, probably lured by the word cookies, perked up immediately and walked over from his usual spot at the counter. “I’ll try one.”
“Here you go, Henry,” she said, handing him one. “Now,” she addressed the others, “I’ve made several batches using different fats to make them cakey versus crispy. I was trying for crunchy on the outside and cakey and a little gooey on the inside. Then I used different leaveners—baking soda and baking powder. So try a bite from all three plates and tell me which one you like best.” She’d been trying to bake away her thoughts about Rafe as he’d been this morning—vulnerable, wounded, a man with depth and feeling. She’d never seen him that way before. And she had to admit, it made him way too attractive.
“Wow,” Sara said, tasting one. “Who knew baking was such a science? It reminds me of organic chemistry lab.”
“This is like The Great British Bake Off,” Gabby said, selecting one from the first plate and taking a bite. “I’ll be Mary Berry. Quite good, I’d say,” she said in a very bad British accent.
Kaitlyn, always amused by Gabby, laughed.
“None of these really look like your grandpa’s,” Gwen said flatly, making Kaitlyn’s smile fade. At least Kaitlyn could count on her to be bluntly honest. “Gramps’s were big and chocolatey and they had patches of white snow on them.” She held a cookie up and rotated it as if she were examining it under a magnifying glass. “Hence the name, snowcaps.”
“Well,” Kaitlyn said, “I rolled them in powdered sugar, but maybe I didn’t let them sit in it long enough. So for today just focus on the taste.”
“Your grandfather would be proud,” her mom said judiciously. “They’re all quite good.”
“But?” Because she’d definitely heard a silent but in there.
“I’m still trying to decide,” her mom hedged. Kaitlyn’s heart sank—she knew her mom well enough to know that none of these recipes were close. Her mom was just too nice to say it.
“Mom, don’t you remember anything about Grandpa making them? Maybe even some buried memory of him mixing some special ingredients together that I might be missing?”
“I’m sorry, honey,” she said, taking another bite. “I always avoided anything to do with the kitchen.”
“I think this one’s chocolatey and velvety, with a buttery feel,” Gabby said, biting her lip to keep from smiling.
“This one’s simple, light-bodied, dry, and crisp,” Sara piped in, propping her chin on her hand and tapping her lips in consideration.
“And this one’s sweet, earthy, and intense,” Gwen added. “Oh, and don’t forget oaky. Definitely oaky.”
“You people!” Kaitlyn said. “You’re supposed to be helping me. The winery’s thirty miles west of here.”
“Bottom line is, they’re all good,” Gwen said. “But none of them has that special gooey, melty, chocolatey goodness that I remember. And you do know about the secret ingredient, don’t you?”
“No. What secret ingredient?” Kaitlyn picked up her pen. Finally, she was getting somewhere.
“I actually don’t know what it is, but I do remember Gramps mentioning it,” Gwen said. “I remember him talking about adding a special something and saying, ‘This is my best cookie. And it’s got a little something to give it an extra kick.’”
“Marijuana?” asked Gabby.
“My grandfather didn’t smoke weed!” Kaitlyn rolled her eyes. At least, she didn’t think he did. She was surrounded by jokesters and people with bad memories. Great.
“We’re sorry we can’t be more helpful,” Gabby said, gathering up her purse. “But thanks for the chocolate snack.”
Gwen got back to work and Sara, Gabby, and her mom left, leaving Kaitlyn alone with her notebook. She was tasting bits of the cookies and writing down what she thought was wrong with each one, when the bell tinkled and Rafe walked in.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said, sitting down.
Kaitlyn felt a full-body flush coming on, and that tingly feeling she always got when Rafe was still yards away. Maybe these pregnancy hormones were just playing tricks on her. It wasn’t unusual for him to joke around and call her beautiful or gorgeous or some other name. But a quick glance up at him showed he looked…serious, which confused her more than ever.
That reminded her of their discussion this morning, and all her turmoil came tumbling back. She broke her gaze and looked around the café. “Hey, there’s no one around.” She dropped her voice. “No need to pretend.”
“I’m not pretending.” He paused and adjusted himself on the stool. “I’ve been thinking about…earlier. I’m really sorry for going overboard with the worrying.” In his eyes, she saw how difficult the admission was for him. “I’ll try harder to rein it in.”
“And I’m sorry about going alone to the ultrasound.” She patted his hand, which felt like a weak gesture when what she really wanted to do was hold him. Find a way to take away all his pain. But that would probably scare him, and besides, she was at work. Instead, she said, “Really sorry.”
“I’m glad everything was okay—with the baby,” he said. “I don’t think I told you that.”
“Me too.” Silence lay like a heavy blanket between them, and she hesitated, unsure of what to say next. “Well then, we’re good,” she said as cheerily as possible, then flashed him a little smile. Which was easy to do because she would’ve done anything to make him smile in return.
She dug into her apron pocket and pulled out a piece of computer paper. “So…I’ll give you some cookies if you look over this list of math tutors I got from the high school guidance counselor and help me find a sewing machine for Hazel.” She pushed a plate toward him.
“Good deal,” he said, taking a bite out of one. “But why the sewing machine?”
“Turns out Hazel’s interested in fashion design. Did you know she makes all her clothes?” Kaitlyn felt embarrassed that she didn’t have a clue about Hazel’s interests. But now that she was armed with that information, she was going to use it wisely.
“That right?” Rafe said, taking another bite.
“The guidance counselor suggested we give her access to a machine. She said there’s a contest Hazel could enter.”
“What’s with your family and contests?” Rafe asked, one corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. A really nice smile.
“Nothing ventured?” she answered with a shrug.
Rafe rubbed his chin. “Nonna has a sewing machine. I’m sure she’d let Hazel use it. She’s coming home from the hospital and I’ll be spending the night over at her house one night this week. I can ask her.” He reached for another cookie. “Hey, these are pretty good.”
Rafe happened to be looking at her as he was chewing. Which made her feel awkward and too aware of him, even though she knew he was talking about the cookie. “See? Exactly,” she said, tapping her index finger on the counter. “Pretty good. Not wow or totally orgasmic. That’s what I’m going for.”
Suddenly his phone clattered to the floor.
He picked it up and cleared his throat. “You want a cookie to taste…orgasmic?”
“Yeah. Because I can’t win a cookie contest without that, Rafe. It has to be the best darn cookie anyone has ever tasted. One that makes you feel like…”
He’d just taken another bite of cookie, and now he raised a brow. “Like…”
“Like you have never had better.”
He stopped chewing and stared at her. Then he swallowed and studied the tutor list intently. “This is the guy I told you about. Logan Burroughs,” he said, pointing to a name. “Going off next fall to study engineering at Ohio State. In fact, he’s sitting right over there with those kids.”
The boy Rafe had singled out was the same one who had been staring at Hazel. “Oh, is that Bob and Angie’s son? Last time I saw him he was playing Little League.” They were both leaning over the counter, their shoulders all but touching. She straightened up and moved back.
“He’s a nice kid.”
“Great. Thanks.” She started tapping her pen against the counter because she needed to get busy doing…something. And because Rafe was still way too close.
“By the way,” he said, casting her a sideways glance. “You’ll find the wow recipe. I have faith in you.”
She just nodded because…because sometimes he knew exactly what to say.
He took another bite of cookie and considered it. “This one’s definitely almost a wow. But not quite.”
“Well, if I don’t elicit a wow, I’m not doing my job,” she said. As soon as the words came out, she froze. A hot flush crept wretchedly up her neck.
He stared at her for a long time. He couldn’t be remembering…no, of course he couldn’t. Because he didn’t remember any of that. Did he?
Just then the bell above the door tinkled, and three teenage girls walked in wearing tons of makeup, skintight jeans, and expensive ski jackets.
“Oh, hi, Hazel,” said a pretty girl with long dark hair who stood in front of her friends.
“Hi,” Hazel said, her tone guarded. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll have a grande half-caf seven-pump toasted white mocha with no whip and extra sprinkles,” said one.
The second girl chimed in. “And I’ll have a venti triple almond milk chestnut praline latte with no whip.”
“And I’ll have a grande peppermint mocha with extra whip and extra drizzle at a hundred twenty degrees,” came the third order.
Hazel scribbled something down, but the orders came fast and furiously.
“Those girls know this is not Starbucks,” Kaitlyn whispered, fisting her hands. “And their orders are ridiculous. I’m going in.”
“Easy there, Mama Bear,” Rafe said, holding her back by gently taking her arm. “Let her handle it.”
“But—”
“Shh,” he said, nodding his head toward Hazel. “Just look.” Hazel was calmly making the drinks, with Gwen looking over her shoulder. Then she delivered them carefully to the counter.
“We’re going to a really fun party tonight,” the dark-haired girl said as she paid. “Too bad you can’t come.”
Oh, these girls, Kaitlyn thought.
“Actually, she is coming, Emma,” someone said. It was the boy who’d been watching from the table—a very cute boy with an athletic build who’d just walked up to the counter. “With me.”
“Logan! What are you doing here?” asked the leader. From the tone of her voice, Kaitlyn could tell whatever he would say mattered to her.
“Saying hi to Hazel,” Cute Guy said, turning all his focus onto her niece. “By the way, love your shirt. You look pretty today.”
Hazel blushed furiously. Kaitlyn glanced at Rafe, who shrugged. The mean girls left with their fancy-schmancy drinks, thank goodness.
“You could’ve told those girls you’re just going to be my math tutor,” Hazel said to the boy. “They think—”
“I don’t really care what they think,” he said, and then he smiled. Which made Hazel blush some more. “Are you almost ready?”
She nodded and looked over in Kaitlyn’s direction. “Let me make sure it’s okay to leave.”
This time Kaitlyn did go up to the counter. “You did an amazing job with those drink orders,” she told Hazel.
“Thanks,” Hazel said. “But Gwen helped.”
Gwen walked out from the back. “You did do a great job keeping everything straight.”
“Without you,” Hazel said, “I would’ve had no idea what they were asking for.”
“Well, I have years of experience. And those orders were wacky.”
“Everything about those girls was over the top,” Kaitlyn said.
“That’s okay, boss, I fixed their wagon,” Gwen said, a very self-satisfied expression on her face.
Kaitlyn spun to face her, her stomach churning with dread. “Wh-what do you mean?”
“I might’ve used super high-altitude blend in those drinks. By accident, of course. So it’ll be like they’re drinking a few cans of Red Bull…each.”
“Gwen, no. You didn’t—”
“She’s kidding, Aunt Kate,” Hazel said, smiling.
Gwen raised her brows. “Or is she?” she said before disappearing behind the counter.
Hazel walked around the counter and lowered her voice as she spoke to Kaitlyn. “We’re going to grab a burger down the street at Lou’s and study there,” she said. “Is that okay?”
“Sure. As long as you’re back by curfew.”
Hazel rolled her eyes, but she was also smiling a little. “Okay, fine.”
“See you later,” Kaitlyn said, as they left out the door. She didn’t realize it, but she was wringing her hands. Rafe steadied them by putting his hand over both of hers.
“She’s doing better,” he said. His grip was firm and steadying, and his voice low and calm in a way that instantly made her feel calmer too.
“You think so?”
“Yeah,” he said, biting back a smile. “And the good news is she’s found her own tutor.”
It was Kaitlyn’s turn to roll her eyes.
“My hunch is that she wants to show you that she’s trying.” He released her hand but stayed where he was, his dark gaze melting her and discombobulating her thoughts. “Hey, I have to tell you something. Not a big deal, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
“Now you have me worried.” Her hand flew up to her chest as she braced herself.
“When I went up in your attic to do the electric work for the new lights, I noticed you have a type of very old insulation up there called vermiculite.” Rafe’s tone was slow and patient, which she took as a little foreboding. She must’ve looked puzzled, because he added, “Have you ever heard of that?”
“I might’ve heard the name before, but I don’t really know what it is. And this building is from the 1890s. So I have no idea how old the insulation is.”
He pressed his lips together, his expression serious. “Yeah, well, vermiculite is not the kind of insulation you want to have.”
“Maybe that’s why my place is chilly. I’ll have someone come and add some more—maybe that kind they blow in through the cracks. That should take care of it, right?”
“Unfortunately, the problem is more complicated than that. Vermiculite contains asbestos. So the question now is how much. Your apartment needs to be tested. You might need abatement.”
Kaitlyn dropped down on the nearest stool. “Asbestos abatement?” Oh, she got it now. Dollar signs appeared in front of her eyes. Thousands of dollar signs. “That sounds like a major, horrible ordeal.” Oh, she did not have the time for this, or the money.
“It could be complicated. Or it could be nothing. I’d like to send a guy over there to check it out, if that’s okay.”
“Okay, fine. But it’s just insulation, so can it wait…like, until spring or something?”
“Well, I drilled a hole for the can light in the ceiling and unfortunately some dust dropped down.” He shot her an apologetic look. “So…”
Dust? Potentially toxic dust? Floating around her apartment? “Rafe, what are you saying?”
“You can’t go back there,” he said in an absolutely not tone. “I may have aerosolized some of it. It’s not safe.”
Oh, this was getting worse and worse.
“No.” She rubbed her forehead, trying to smooth out her stress but failing. “This is…this is terrible.”
He touched her forearm. One look into those coffee-brown eyes showed he was cool as a cucumber, while she was freaking the heck out. “My mom has no room with Hazel there. I’d have to sleep on the couch. Or ask Sara or Gabby to put me up for…for how long?”
“A week. Maybe two. If they can get to it right away.”
“I suppose I can use the kitchen here to keep working on my cookie recipe. There’s only a week left before the contest deadline. This is…awful.”
He placed his hand on her arm. “I have a better idea. Come stay with me. I have a freshly painted extra bedroom and a brand-new kitchen. You can bake all the cookies you want. Plus you’ll have the place to yourself every third day and night while I’m at work.”
She perused his handsome face. He was looking at her kindly. His mouth was quirked up a little, as if for some insane reason he was slightly amused by all this. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to—” For her to what? Move in with Rafe, whom she was suddenly finding more appealing than ever?
“I think it’s a great idea. It—would be my privilege to have you stay at my house. All right? So I’ve got a mask in my truck. Tell me what you need from up there and I’ll go in and get it. Sound like a plan?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head in dismay. She started to tell him that she was definitely not going to let him riffle through her underwear to get her stuff. But then she saved her breath, because she knew he’d fight her to the death about it.
The last thing in the world she wanted was to live with Rafe. But what choice did she have? Stay in her mother’s crowded place, or bother the newlyweds? When she opened her eyes, he was still looking at her, solemn and unblinking. “Okay, fine. I accept your offer.”
“I was wondering something else too,” he said, snagging another cookie.
“What’s that?” she asked, frowning. She couldn’t take much else.
“Would you want to…hang out? Maybe go check out all the shop windows, grab a bite…before we head back to my place? I thought we could maybe watch a movie tonight.”
She fiddled with her apron tie just to look somewhere else besides at him because…how many surprises could she take in one day? She tried to keep her cool. “You want to…hang out?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Hang out, talk? Like old times, only—different. Better.”
Better? What was he telling her? That he was going to try to get their friendship back on track? Or more?
Back then, they’d had discussions over just about anything—the origin of life, global warming, how glass is made, how the rocks got to Stonehenge—but they’d left anything truly intimate untouched. Now, for the first time, she wondered if maybe that could change.
She suddenly realized she wanted it to change. And she allowed herself to feel hopeful that it could.
“Okay, sure. Sounds fun.”
He broke into a smile, which made the bottom drop out of her stomach.
“Great. Terrific,” he said as he stood up from the stool. “I’ve got to get back to the station. But I’ll stop by on my way out.”
Doubt still clutched at her. He must have sensed the conflict in her, because he said, “This has nothing to do with you having to stay with me.” He was looking at her in a way that gave her goose bumps. “It has everything to do with the fact that I miss you. I have for a long time.”
“Oh,” she said, more than a little surprised.
That sounded friendly. But it sort of felt like a…date. She couldn’t contain a strange feeling that had taken hold. Excitement.
“What can I bring?” she asked.
“Just yourself,” he said, his gaze sweeping her up and down in a thorough way that made her entire face go up in flames. Fortunately, a rush of people came through the door, along with a nice cold gust of air to cool her off.
When she looked back at him, he was gone. And so were all the cookies.