TONYA AND LILAH should make an air freshener that smelled exactly like the Donut Den. Janie decided this as she stepped through the door of the bakery only to be plunged into the most heavenly mix of scents: yeast, vanilla, cinnamon, chocolate, coffee—and today she could also smell...maple. They’d make a million dollars.
“Oh, Lilah, is that maple? Please tell me you’ve made Emily’s?” Emily’s were a new addition to the Donut Den—maple-glazed and custard-filled delights that Lilah had started baking at Emily’s request. They were so popular Lilah and Tonya had decided to name the pastry after her, which was only fitting as she was one of their best customers.
Lilah giggled. “That nose of yours is unbelievable, Janie. Yes, I just finished frosting a batch.”
Janie glanced at her cousin Shay. The bride-to-be’s face was contorted with a scowl as she stared down at a tray containing a vast array of cake bits tucked into paper muffin cups and labeled with tiny toothpick-and-paper signs—vanilla bean, toasted coconut, salted caramel, German chocolate... None of these delicious flavors were even remotely scowl-worthy.
Her cousin Hannah—Shay’s younger sister—was standing next to her.
“They all look delicious. How’s it going?”
Shay’s eyes met hers and Janie felt her heart lurch. Something was wrong. As Shay’s cousin, best friend and maid of honor Janie’s job was to fix it—whatever it was.
“Shay, what’s the matter?”
“Jonah booked our honeymoon.” Shay said these words like she was informing Janie that her fiancé had kicked a puppy into a street full of busy traffic.
“Oh... Well, that sounds like good news.”
“No-o-o,” she drawled. “He booked it without asking me.”
“But that sounds romantic.”
“Thaff’s what I said,” Hannah chimed in as tiny cake crumbs flew out along with the words. She covered her mouth with a napkin.“Oofhs, sorfy.” She held up a finger, made a show of swallowing. “I told her the same thing, Janie.”
“A Caribbean honeymoon sounds romantic?”
“Uh-oh.” Janie grimaced. Shay didn’t like tropical weather; she particularly disliked humidity. She didn’t sunbathe and she didn’t like to play in the ocean unless fishing in it counted. Shay was a doer, a go-getter—hiking, fishing, seeing sights, yes. Everyone knew that. Everyone except her lost but recently rediscovered high school/college love turned fiancé Jonah, apparently...
“You should have seen him when he told me—all proud of himself and so confident I would love it. The brochure has a picture of a hammock and a sunset on it. When I told him to surprise me I assumed he would surprise me with someplace that I would like. I never should have agreed to let him take on this task.”
“What did you tell him?” Janie asked carefully.
“I told him I’m not going to the Caribbean for my honeymoon. What do people even do there? Sit around and sweat? Fry their skin in the sun all day? No, thank you. Plus—I don’t even like the taste of rum.”
Hannah howled with laughter as Janie let out a snicker. She said, “Shay, I don’t think that sounds so bad. Cal and I didn’t even go on a honeymoon. I would be happy going anywhere.”
Shay’s eyes went wide as shock and horror transformed her features. “Oh, no... Janie, you’re right. I am a horrible person. Jonah is trying so hard and I’m being picky and snippy and ungrateful.” She let out a gasp. “I’m—I’m...bridezilla.”
“Shay—no, you’re not. You’re not bridezilla. You’re just stressed. You always do this. You take too much on yourself. Delegating isn’t only about asking someone else to do a task—it’s about letting go of it enough to not worry about how it turns out. Trusting in another person.”
“What? Really?” Shay looked distressed by the notion. She wasn’t exactly known for her ability to relinquish control of any situation.
Janie chuckled and shrugged. “I don’t know, but it sounds good. You’re letting Hannah and me choose the bridesmaid dresses. And I’m putting on your shower. You haven’t even asked me about it.”
Shay nibbled on a piece of cake. “That’s because I know you and Hannah will choose correctly and that the shower will be beautiful and perfect.”
Hannah chimed in enthusiastically, “Yeah, and that reminds me, Janie—this is funny. Jonah suggested we wear those skimpy French maid outfits in lieu of the traditional bridesmaid dresses since the wedding is going to be at the inn. You know—in keeping with the hotel theme?”
Janie and Hannah shared a laugh.
Shay scowled. “See what I mean? He’s not taking this seriously.”
“Shay, one of the things you love about Jonah is his sense of humor. I don’t think you’ve quite entered the bridezilla zone, but you might need to lighten up a bit.”
Hannah nodded her agreement as she chewed. “Mmm.” She pointed at the sign marked vanilla bean and lifted up a thumb. She added, “Janie’s right, Shay, this is supposed to be the happiest time in your life.”
Janie tried a bite of carrot-and-cream. “Oh, my goodness,” she drawled.
Shay nodded. “I know. Try the toasted coconut. Now there’s something positive about the Caribbean—it’s supposed to be full of coconuts, right?”
Janie chuckled and tried a piece, which seemed to melt in her mouth before she could truly appreciate the flavor. She picked up another bite—same effect.
“Lilah, you are a genius. How many flavors do we have to decide on?”
Shay said, “I’m thinking four—each tier a different flavor.”
Lilah suggested, “You could always add another flavor or two with a cupcake tower.”
A half hour later they’d successfully narrowed down the choices. Shay had, thankfully, already chosen the design for the cake. They talked frosting colors and discussed other details with Lilah.
When they were finished Shay and Hannah stepped outside, talking about the music for the wedding while Janie lingered to purchase a box of doughnuts. She thought it would be a nice treat for the kids, and admittedly a few pastries would give her something to look forward to that evening.
Looking forward to eating a doughnut, and knitting while watching her favorite television show—was that sad and pathetic? She thought about Aidan’s “mommy” description of her. Whatever, she didn’t care—this was her life and she’d take these little nuggets of happiness wherever she could get them.
Lilah handed over the bright pink box with one of her quirky smiles. Her voice was soft, but intense. “I feel so bad about the Boston cream pie the other day, Janie.”
“Not your fault, Lilah. It was just one of those things. It was a rough day.”
Lilah stared at her intently, her dark brown eyes reminding Janie of the fresh-brewed espresso she served. “It’s nice when life offers us another chance at something, though, don’t you think?”
Janie wasn’t sure if Lilah was trying to tell her something important and profound about her spiritual well-being or commenting on Shay and Jonah’s second chance at love. Lilah was prone to these moments of philosophical inquiry. Janie wasn’t sure she agreed, but she loved Lilah and knew her intentions were good.
“Yep, it sure is, Lilah.”
It wouldn’t be until later that Janie would realize Lilah wasn’t talking about either one of those things—and that in this particular case she most certainly would not agree. Because sometimes a second chance just meant another opportunity to make a mistake.
* * *
THE NEXT EVENING Janie scooped up her sobbing two-year-old from the kitchen floor and cradled him in her arms.
“Gareth?” she called. “What’s wrong with Finn?”
“He fell.” Gareth stepped into the kitchen and relayed the details of the incident. “He didn’t fall very hard, and I gave him his buddy bear, but he still wouldn’t stop crying. I think he might be getting a cold.”
“Thanks for trying, honey. You may be right about him being sick.” She propped Finn on her shoulder and began bouncing lightly around the kitchen as she put away the groceries she had brought in from the car. Gareth jumped in to help and by the time they were finished the baby was snoozing peacefully in her arms.
“Mom!” Reagan hustled into the kitchen, his red hair askew and his green eyes shining with excitement.
“Hey, Reagan—how was your day?”
“Good, but listen, I have something important to tell you. I took a sample of Finn’s mucus, looked at it under my microscope, and I—”
“Of what?” Janie blinked slowly.
Gareth filled a glass with milk. “Snot, Mom, he was looking at snot.”
Reagan stared at his brother, aghast. “Shut up, Gareth. That makes it sound gross.”
“It is gross.”
Reagan’s voice shifted into lecture mode, which sometimes brought out the worst in Gareth. “You think that you would know by now that it’s a perfectly natural occurrence. There are certain bodily functions that are common in all Homo sapiens and mucus in the nasal passage is one—”
Gareth laughed. “I can think of a couple you—”
“Stop!” Janie put up a hand to ward off a squabble or a verbal exchange of “natural” bodily functions, neither of which she was up to dealing with right now, although she wasn’t quite sure how to respond to Reagan’s comment.
“Listen, you guys—no fighting. But, Reagan, you have to admit it is kind of gross.” The deflated look on his face had her adding a quick placation. “For us nonscience people—even though it is, in fact, as you pointed out, natural.” All correct, it was just that he was constantly regaling them with these rather unconventional—okay, and kind of gross—truths.
Janie watched Reagan roll his eyes, no doubt wondering how he could possibly be saddled with such ignorant relations.
“I was careful, Mom. I didn’t touch it. But have you ever noticed how our own bodily excretions don’t gross us out nearly as much as other people’s do?”
Janie opened her mouth to respond but apparently he didn’t really expect an answer.
“I’m guessing it has a lot to do with pheromones because why else wouldn’t a mother vomit every time she changed her baby’s diaper?”
“Reagan—”
“I know. I’m getting off point. Mom, I used a swab and I was wearing gloves. You know how important it is not to contaminate a sample. Finn has—”
“Hi, sweetheart.” Claire walked into the kitchen. “You’re home early.”
“Hi, Mom. I am. I finished my column for next week, which has me looking forward to planting my own garden.” Janie laid a hand on Reagan’s shoulder. “Reagan, you were saying? You think Finn has...”
“A respiratory infection—I think Finn is getting an upper respiratory tract infection. You can’t see the virus with my microscope, I’d need an electron for that, but—”
Gareth let out a laugh. “You needed to magnify his boogers to figure out that he’s getting a cold? How about the coughing and the sneezing—wasn’t that kind of a giveaway?”
They all laughed at that, Reagan included, and Janie was glad the situation had so easily been defused.
“Mom, is it okay if I invited someone over tonight to help with my science project?”
“Sounds like a great idea, Reagan.”
Janie was thrilled; she secretly dreaded the science expo. She should enjoy helping the boys with their projects, and she did most of the time, but at eleven years of age Reagan already seemed to be smarter than she was—smarter than most everyone she knew. His project had something to do with electricity, and quite frankly the whole notion scared her to death.
“What do you guys want for dinner? Spaghetti or chili dogs?”
“Are there meatballs?” Reagan asked.
“Yep, I’ve got some in the freezer.”
“Spaghetti,” they answered in unison, and Janie smiled with satisfaction. It would be a rare and coveted night where everyone would eat the same meal without complaint.
Her mother took a now-sleeping Finn from her arms. Janie was elbow-deep in chopped lettuce for a salad when the doorbell rang. She wiped her hands on a dish towel as she headed for the entryway, assuming it was Reagan’s friend Elena. But when she opened the door she found Aidan Hollings standing on her porch, once again reminding her more of a hippie surfer than a doctor of anything in his rumpled khakis, faded T-shirt and worn Converse tennis shoes. His streaked blond curls were tucked behind his ears and caramel-colored whiskers graced his smiling face.
“Hi,” he said.
She forced a smile through her surprise. “Hi, um, what are you doing here?”
“Didn’t Reagan tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“Yesterday when we were unloading my boxes, he invited me over to take a look at his science project.”
This was so Reagan. Aidan was the “friend” he’d invited. She knew better than to be irritated with her son because details he considered pertinent were not always the same as hers.
“Sorry, come in. He did mention that he invited someone, but he wasn’t specific.”
“Oh, well...” Aidan held up the bag along with an easy smile, his bright, white-bandaged hand somehow a reminder of his humanity, and a cue for her to be civil. “Peace offering?”
“Aidan, really—that isn’t necessary.”
“I know. I wanted to. But I’m pretty sure you’re going to like this. I think you’ll all like it. Also, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
Reagan stepped into the entryway. “Aidan, hi! I’ve got my third section working perfectly, but I’m still having serious problems with the voltage on my Van de Graaff generator. Can you stay for dinner? We’re having spaghetti. My mom makes killer meatballs—they’re like this big.” He shaped his fingers into a large circle.
Aidan Hollings eating dinner at her table and electrocuting who-knows-what with her son? No, it was too...much. He paused and Janie felt relieved because she thought that meant he was going to decline and save her from having to make an excuse for him.
“Sure. Dinner sounds great. Spaghetti is one of my favorites.”
Reagan grinned. “Mine, too. Mom, how long until dinner?”
Janie realized they were both now looking at her. “Um, about an hour?”
“Okay, Aidan, come on. I’m all set up in the garage.” Reagan took off down the hall toward the back door.
What choice did she have here? She motioned at the bag he held. “Do you want me to take that?”
“I’ll wait until after dinner. Can I just set it out of the way somewhere?”
“Yes, sure, in the kitchen would be best to keep the kids out of it. What did you want to talk to me about?”
“I have some good news for you.”
“Oh?” Janie couldn’t possibly begin to imagine.
“I’ve decided to do the interview.”
Janie wondered why this was good news for her?
He shrugged, his face sporting a lazy half grin. “I, uh, I wanted to do something to try and make things up to you, so I told Laurel I’d do the interview. Emily is really excited. My agent is thrilled, too. So, yeah, congratulations.”
Janie tried not to gape. Too? Like she was supposed to be grateful and excited in addition to Laurel, Emily, his agent and whoever else because he’d bestowed this honor upon her? Like some kind of prestigious award? She stared at him and tried to decide what to say. She wished she could scoot him right back out the door and pretend this wasn’t happening. She glanced over at Reagan, who had doubled back and now stood waiting patiently in the hall.
Lucky for her she did have an out.
“Well, that’s great for Laurel and Emily and...whoever. And I appreciate the gesture, but I’ve already told Laurel to assign someone else to the interview if you, um, decided to...agree. I thought we would both be more comfortable with that under the circumstances.”
“Circumstances?”
“Yes—”
“You know what?” Aidan held up a hand toward her like he was trying to stop traffic. “We can talk about this later.” The self-assurance in his voice made her bristle.
She infused her tone with a heavy dose of fake sweetness. “No, that’s okay, we don’t need to do that—to talk about it. I’ve made it very clear to Laurel that I’m fine with not doing the interview.”
He nodded. “We’ll talk.” He said it like a man used to getting both the last word and his way, but he was in for a surprise. He could last-word her until he was blue in the face, but he would not get his way.
His attention was now focused on Reagan, who was saying something about the composition of Barbie hair. Janie didn’t even want to think about what that meant.
“Sounds very cool. Let’s go take a look at that generator.” Aidan flashed another proud-of-himself grin before following Reagan down the hall.
Janie moved back into the kitchen to find the sauce boiling and splattering all over the stove top. She silently and irrationally blamed Aidan as she turned down the temperature and mopped up the mess.
She set about defrosting the meatballs. A peace offering? And agreeing to do the article like she was some kind of charity case? He obviously felt guilty, and how mortifying. She wanted to forget everything that had happened between them and just...pretend like everything was fine. This was the opposite of forgetting—coming over here with his “good news” and a “peace offering.”
She was mangling some garlic cloves and mumbling to herself when her mother came strolling into the kitchen with a fussy Finn cradled in her arms.
“Look who woke up already. Why don’t you take him and let me finish that?”
“That would be great, Mom.” She took Finn in her arms. Her poor little guy—he was definitely coming down with a cold, or worse. “He sounds so congested. I’ll give him a dose of medicine after dinner.”
She exited the kitchen when another knock sounded on the door.
This time it was followed immediately by a voice—Shay’s voice. “Hey, it’s just me. Yum, something smells delicious.”
Janie met her in the hallway.
“Shay, hi! What are you doing here?”
“Jonah is playing poker with Caleb and Doc, so I thought I’d pop over—I hope that’s okay?”
Janie grinned, knowing very well that Jonah’s poker matches with his grandfather Caleb and his friends could last for hours. “Better than okay—can you stay for dinner?”
“Are you kidding? Love to.”
Janie breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“You’re thanking me for you offering me dinner? How very like you, Jane Elizabeth.”
Janie lowered her voice. “Aidan Hollings is here.”
Shay shook her head and looked confused. “What does that—”
Janie whispered, “I’ll explain later.”
Thankfully, Shay ran with it. “Okay,” she whispered in return, before switching to her normal tone. “Do you want me to set the table?”
The addition of Shay at dinner was a godsend to Janie. Aidan spent most of the meal talking to her mother and Reagan. Gareth and the twins adored Shay and vied for her attention so Janie didn’t feel compelled to make small talk.
After dinner was over, Shay helped Claire with the dishes while Finn fell asleep in Janie’s arms. The boys headed for the family room, and Janie tried to ignore the pang in her heart at the sight of Gabe giggling in Aidan’s arms.
Finn finally dozed off so she put him down. She made tea for her mom, Shay and herself and they discussed Shay’s upcoming wedding, the PTO fund-raiser, and how great the newly constructed community center was turning out to be.
Soon Claire said her goodbyes, kissed and hugged the boys and headed out the door. Gabe toddled into the room and crawled up into Shay’s lap and promptly fell asleep. Janie felt a wave of relief as she realized the end of the evening—meaning Aidan’s departure—was imminent.
Janie and Shay were still seated at the dining room table when Aidan came in with the boys.
Shay stood with Gabe. “I’m going to go put this little man down.”
Janie smiled at her. “Thanks, Shay.”
Janie calculated that Aidan should take that cue and start heading for the door.
Instead he lifted his hands and said brightly, “I almost forgot about my surprise. I brought dessert.” He disappeared into the kitchen.
When he stepped back into the room with the familiar-looking bright pink box Janie felt a stab of unease, which amplified dramatically as Lilah’s parting question from yesterday about second chances came roaring back to her.
She should have insisted on taking the bag when Aidan arrived and peeked inside. If she would have seen the box she would have figured it out and she could have...
Reagan said, “Oh, yum—it’s from the Donut Den.”
Janie’s eyes darted toward Gareth, expecting him to look wary as well. But he didn’t. He looked excited about the prospect of dessert. And suddenly the scene seemed to be unfolding in one of those slow-motion-type nightmares, leaving Janie frozen with panic and yet powerless to stop the impending disaster.