“So, are you gonna take the resort job?” Maxi asked, wiping down the kitchen counters, as Kate scrubbed out the sink.
“Well, Sam’s going to want his kitchen back, and it means I can stay on Coral Cay, so yeah. The manager said they’ll even put me up for a few weeks until I can find an apartment.”
She looked around the bakery. “But I am so going to miss this place. And my kitchen hours will be pretty brutal. At least, to start. I’m going to hate not being able to pop over all the time.”
“Admit it, it’s my coffee you’re really going to miss.”
“Of course. And that coconut cream.”
“When do you start?” Maxi asked.
“Ten days,” Kate said, pausing. “Until then, I figure I can give Sam a hand and get the bakery fully stocked. If he lets me bake. And you have to help me convince him to keep going with the cookies.”
“Convince him? That man makes a mule look easygoing. But I have a little something that might help.”
She dried her hands, walked over to the table, grabbed a notebook, and pulled out a sheet of printer paper with a colorful bar chart. She held it up in front of Kate.
“What’s this?” Kate asked.
“I used our access to the bakery to organize Sam’s books. This shows how the business was doing before you showed up. And this,” she said, pointing, “is the two weeks following the big reopening. While you were selling cookies and doing special orders.”
“Oh my gosh, Maxi, this is great!”
“Yup. A guy like Sam needs to see the facts in black and white. Or blue, green, and red, thanks to my snazzy printer. Javie’s teacher calls them visual aids. And now that Sam’s had a nice little rest and put on a few pounds, he might just see the sense in doing something that actually makes his business grow.”
“Well, I’ve got a visual aid of my own,” Kate confessed, rinsing her hands and quickly drying them. “I’ll show you, but you’ve got to promise to give me your honest opinion. If it’s bad, I need to know. I’m so tired at this point, I can’t tell.”
“Hey, I can be super mean. Like those judges on that singing show.”
Kate carefully lifted a tall cardboard box up and off the counter and stepped back to give Maxi a better view of what was underneath.
“Oh my gosh,” the florist said, clasping her hands under her chin. “That’s us! That’s the Cookie House! Made out of cookies. How did you do that? It’s wonderful!”
Kate grinned.
Maxi shook her head in astonishment. “You even got the little window boxes. With the new little bushes. And the color. Perfect. How? When?”
Kate sighed. “It took a while. And I didn’t get much sleep the last two nights. But I wanted to surprise Sam. And I wanted to show him what this place could be again. Bread is important. It’ll keep you alive. But people have milestones. They need to gather, to celebrate. A wedding cake, a birthday cake, a special cookie. It feeds the soul. We need that stuff, too. It’s the difference between surviving and living.”
“Is this…?” Maxi asked, pointing.
“Oliver. It didn’t seem finished somehow, and I couldn’t figure out what was missing. Then it hit me. Or, rather, looked up into my face.”
“It’s so real. It looks just like him. Fluffy.”
“Well, to be fair, I used the real thing for a model. The little guy is very patient.”
“You even got my flowers out front,” Maxi marveled.
Kate nodded. “Want to hear something weird? I know I’ve only been here a few weeks, but this place feels like home. Not just Coral Cay, but here. The Cookie House. Don’t tell Sam, but I am really going to miss it.”
“Maybe he’ll let you rent the upstairs room,” Maxi said.
“I was kind of hoping he might. But I think the resort would frown on that. I just found out they want me to sign something promising not to do any commercial baking on the side. So if they discovered I was living over the bakery where I used to work…”
“Now that’s just selfish. What if mi niños want some of those really good camp-out cookies?”
“Gifts for friends and family are fine. They even said I could contribute to charity bake sales. But that’s about it.”
“Ay, that’s nice of them to let you. Especially since it’s your time and talent.”
“Does Oliver ever visit the resort area?” Kate asked suddenly.
“Where Oliver goes is a real mystery,” Maxi said. “That puppy has a life of his own. But I’ve never seen him over there. And I’m not sure it would be a good place for him, either. They’re super strict about rules and stuff. And he’s kind of a free spirit. Why?”
Kate felt herself tearing up. It was stupid, but she’d come to think of Oliver as “hers.” Or was it that she was “his”?
Maxi studied her friend, then handed her a paper towel.
“So rent a place in town that’s Oliver friendly. I’ll help you find something this weekend. In your spare time. When Sam doesn’t have you chained to the oven.”
Kate dabbed her eyes. “Really? That would be great. That way, maybe we can still make time to meet for coffee. Or lunch. And we can both keep an eye on Sam. And what’s going on around town.”
“And you could take more classes at Sunny’s,” Maxi said. “You gotta take care of yourself, too. Otherwise, you’re gonna end up just like you-know-who.”
They both heard the shop bell and looked up. Kate quickly lowered the box over the house. “That can’t be him yet. We’re not ready!”
“We’ve got decorations and food. We’ve got a house made of cookies. We’re ready. And the bakery looks great. Sam’s gonna think he’s in the wrong place.”
“Hello, ladies, brought a few nibbles for the man of the hour.”
“Harp,” Kate said. “Come on in.”
“This is a cocktail party in a bag,” he said, setting the canvas sack on the kitchen table. “A little sparkling cider, strictly nonalcoholic. Along with some savory butter crackers. And a generous chunk of this gorgeous soft cheese from Belgium. Just got my hands on it. Wonderful stuff!”
“Oooh, this is nice,” Maxi said, setting the items on the table. “Thank you!”
“Is he here yet?” Amos Tully called from the doorway.
“Not yet,” Kate said. “Ben’s bringing him. Apparently, they have some papers to sign first.”
“Don’t see what’s taking so long,” the grocer complained. “The man’s innocent. You open the cell door and let him walk out. It’s that simple.”
“It certainly should be,” Peter said, clapping him on the back. “In the meantime, can I get you a glass of lemonade?”
“Wouldn’t say no,” Amos replied. “Figured you might need a few supplies for this shindig. Got paper cups and plates. And a pound of that coffee Sam likes. And a few cans of tuna fish and deviled ham. Sam likes his canned meats.”
Maxi slid an eye over to Kate, who tried not to giggle.
“Sam will love this,” the florist said, hefting the brown paper bag. “Let me put these in the pantry.”
“Hi there, are we too late?” a familiar woman’s voice called from the shop.
“Rosie!” Kate answered. “We’re back here. In the kitchen.”
Rosie and Andre bustled through the swinging doors.
“We know it is like you say, ‘coals to Newcastle,’ but we wanted to drop off something sweet,” Andre said.
“Pralines,” Rosie said. “A little ‘welcome home’ gift for Sam.”
“Oh, these look delicious,” Kate said.
“They should be,” Rosie said with a grin. “They’re the real deal straight from New Orleans. A little candy shop right off Bourbon Street.”
“You’re in plenty of time,” Peter said, checking his watch. “They’re not here yet, but it should be any minute.”
“You do know that if you leave that front door unlocked, anyone could just wander in,” Sunny called as she breezed into the kitchen. “Brought a little turkey casserole. Something Sam can heat up for later,” she said, depositing a covered baking dish onto the crowded table.
“Pretty soon we’re gonna need a bigger kitchen,” Maxi whispered to Kate. “So who’s that big blond guy behind Sunny?”
“Pothole,” Kate said quietly. “Definitely a pothole.”
“Hmmm,” Maxi said, surveying him. “Nice pothole.”
“Hey, are we too late? Is Sam back yet?”
“C’mon back, Gabe!” Maxi called. “We’re all in the kitchen.”
“Hey, it’s a party!” he said cheerfully, hefting a basketball-sized object wrapped in foil.
“We weren’t quite sure what to bring,” Claire added. “So we decided on a ham. It’s one of those spiral-slice ones. Sam should be able to get a few meals out of it.”
“Already brought him ham,” Amos sniffed. “And mine won’t go bad.”
“By the way, Carl and Minette were coming up the walkway behind us,” Gabe said to Peter. “Looked like she had a pie. Doc said he’ll stop in, if he finishes early. And I saw Barb Showalter and Mrs. Kim heading this way with gift bags.”
“You didn’t see Ben’s car, did you?” Peter asked.
The mechanic shook his head.
“Guess who’s here?” Minette called.
“The fire marshal?” Maxi whispered to Kate. “Because this kitchen is seriously crammed.”
“Oh my,” Minette said as she and Carl walked into the kitchen. “Are we the last to arrive?”
“If they’re not, we’re gonna have to move this party to the lawn,” Maxi said to Kate.
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Kate said. “Guys, if we all reconvene on the front porch, we can greet Sam as soon as he gets out of the car. And Maxi and I will set up drinks and a nosh on the counter in the bakeshop. That way, everyone can circulate.”
“Right this way,” Peter said, holding open one of the swinging doors. “And I’ll bring out a tray of cold lemonade and some cookies to get everyone started.”
“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Gabe said happily, stepping back to let Claire go first.
“Kitchen’s too stuffy,” Amos said. “Could do with a nip of fresh air.”
Twenty minutes and several drop-in visitors later, the porch resembled a cocktail party. Guests mixed and mingled, snacking on imported cheese, chipped ham, crackers, and yeast rolls. Kate put out a couple of plates of cookies, too, in case anyone had a sweet tooth.
“So how many people did you actually invite?” Kate asked Maxi as they retreated to the kitchen to mix up another batch of lemonade.
“You, me, Peter, and Bridget,” she said, grinning. “Welcome to small-town life. No big secrets. No small parties.”
“He’s coming!” Peter called over the shop door. “They’re pulling up now!”
Kate grabbed the pitcher, and they hustled out the front door. Oliver, who’d been napping on one of the benches, sat up at attention.
Ben’s car pulled up to the curb and stopped. Then, nothing. No doors opened.
“That’s weird,” Maxi said softly to Kate.
Ben and Sam appeared to be talking. Sam wiped his face with his sleeve. Then Kate saw Ben take off his Ray-Bans and hand them to the baker.
A minute later, Ben got out, lurched around to the passenger’s side, and opened the front door. Sam, decked out in sunglasses, a sea-green Hawaiian shirt, and jeans, climbed out of the car. He said something to Ben, who grinned. The detective pointed to the house.
Sam gave a little wave.
Everyone on the porch broke into loud, long applause.
Sam looked at Ben, who nodded. The baker shook his head, squared his shoulders, and marched up the walkway, Ben at his side.
At the bottom of the steps, the crowd gave way and Peter jogged forward, handing Sam a glass of lemonade.
“Everybody just wanted to say ‘welcome back,’” Peter said.
Up close Kate realized how much healthier Sam looked. He’d filled out. Gone was the gaunt, haunted look. Even his cheeks were pink. Or maybe he was blushing.
“Place looks different,” the baker said, looking around. “Better.”
“So do you!” one of the teenagers shouted from the back of the porch. “Dope shades!”
Sam raised his glass. He took a sip and cleared his throat. And wiped his cheek.
“Not one for fancy words,” the baker said haltingly. “Thank you. All of you. Took something pretty bad to realize I have it pretty good. Won’t forget again.”
“To Sam,” Peter said, raising his glass in return. “Welcome back!”
“Welcome back!” the crowd repeated.
“Now come on,” Peter said, pulling the baker up the steps. “We’ve got all kinds of food.”
“Yeah,” Maxi said, “you must be starving.”
Sam nodded, smiling slightly. “I could eat.”