Mark was in his office when Anna finished transferring the last of the croissants from the cooling rack. She’d worked slowly, purposefully stalling so she could casually leave without any awkwardness, or perhaps dragging out the moment until she had to depart, but now she was left with the dilemma of knocking on his door specifically to say goodbye, or just leaving without a word.
The latter was unfortunately not an option, even if a clean break was exactly what she needed. She hadn’t wanted to come to Hastings this morning, even if she was able to accomplish all her baking for the Annex in a little more than two hours. The contest was now exactly two weeks away, and if they were going to work on their entry tonight, it would be better to discuss that now rather than pop in later or God forbid pick up the phone.
She loaded the last of the boxes into the trunk of her car, which she’d parked just beside Mark’s black SUV in the alley behind the diner, and then reentered through the kitchen door. She could still make out the soft lull of his voice as she neared his half-open office door, but as she was just about to lean in and knock, Mark appeared in the doorframe.
“You startled me,” she said, covering her embarrassment with a smile.
She’d tried not to let herself look his way while they were in the kitchen, each separately preparing for their day, but now she couldn’t avoid it. His nut brown hair was tousled as if he had been dragging his hands through it, and his deep espresso eyes were warm and alive. A day’s worth of stubble had collected on his chin, framing his square jaw. Her eyes rested firmly on his mouth, just as they had the night before, first in his kitchen while they’d again tested recipes and then all through the night, while she’d tossed and turned in search of sleep that never came.
Mark, on the other hand, seemed to have not had trouble in the sleep department. He looked well rested and energized, while her left eye was starting to twitch with fatigue.
Figures, Anna thought bitterly. Nothing touched Mark, nothing rattled him, and nothing kept him awake. He was untouchable—a trait she’d aspired to and achieved once. Look at her now; only a matter of a week into letting her wall down, and she was already feeling raw and exposed.
She wouldn’t let him in again. She couldn’t.
“Were you waiting for me?”
If you counted standing around in the kitchen waiting for him to get off the phone as waiting, then guilty as charged. “I’m heading over to the bookstore,” she informed him.
His eyes never strayed. “Will I see you later?”
She ran through her calendar. She was covering the counter at the Annex until noon, and her meeting with Sharon would last until one. After that, she had hoped to visit the furniture store where she’d first purchased the seating for Fireside—she’d have to charge anything she bought with the plan to pay it off when the check from the insurance company cleared.
“Does seven work for you?”
“It’s a date.” Mark tossed her a lopsided grin that made her stomach roll over. She knew what he meant by it, but the part of her that liked his word choice entirely too much made her feel anxious. She had to get through this damn contest and get back to her own kitchen once and for all.
She waved goodbye and turned on her heel before she could linger on the definition of his lips a second longer, and her heart thrummed with each step she took toward the back door, feeling Mark’s eyes on her back.
It wasn’t personal, she reminded herself firmly as she pushed through the door without another glance back. With Mark, it was never, ever personal.
Rosemary was already seated at the long farmhouse table near the window of the Annex when Anna came in with a high stack of pastry boxes. Spread on the table was this week’s book club selection, but Rosemary’s attention was on anything but the paperback in front of her. Jane stood at the head of the table, fury reddening her face, as Rosemary pursed her lips and batted her eyelashes, her hands folded calmly in her lap.
“Everything okay this morning?” Anna asked. She set the boxes on the counter and began quickly plating the triple berry muffins. She should have been here at least ten minutes ago, and instead she’d stood around the diner waiting for one last exchange with Mark. Pathetic.
A rush of anger fueled her as she took the last muffin from the box and popped the top on another. It was just like the day he broke up with her.
They’d agreed to meet but he’d kept her waiting, and fool that she was, she’d stood outside his class while he’d chatted with another girl, that long-legged brunette named Cassie, not even bothering to look in her direction through the open door, even though he had to have known she was there. He’d been distant for a week, but that was the moment she first knew for certain that his feelings for her, like those before her, had cooled.
She’d studied him sidelong the entire walk to a nearby coffee shop—he’d been quieter than he’d been in the two years they’d grown close, the laughter and ease had faded, and he didn’t reach for her hand the way he had those glorious four months when they couldn’t take their hands off each other. She asked if something was wrong, hoping it was her imagination, even if deep down she knew—this was Mark. She’d seen him brush off girl after girl before their friendship had turned romantic. She’d rolled her eyes as she’d watched him across campus, kissing some pretty classmate, knowing that within a few weeks he’d break up with her. His dating life was a revolving door, but she… she was his constant friend. She’d expected more from him, but she’d wanted more than he could give.
If she dared to think of that day—and she’d worked hard not to—she could still feel the weight of it square in her chest. The realization that she’d been played. That he never loved her, never would, and that she’d fed into his charms, and the fantasy he’d created, of how life might have been.
For all three of them.
She’d gone home that day and studied the pregnancy test stick over and over. Each time she got the same result: positive. Her life with Mark was still moving forward somehow, even if he had already left her without a glance back.
“I was just telling Rosemary about my date last night,” Jane told Anna, without looking back. She stared stonily at Rosemary, who casually inspected her nails.
“So he had a little too much to drink,” she replied airily.
“He had two glasses of wine and three Scotches. Before the meal was even served.”
Anna hid a smile as Rosemary’s eyes went wide. Recovering her fluster, she waved a hand dismissively. “Worse things have happened.”
“Like cheating on your wife?” Jane set her hands on her hips. “He also doesn’t seem particularly fond of children.”
“I didn’t know he cheated on his wife,” Rosemary murmured, frowning. “Who told you this?”
“He did, more or less. After about his fifth drink, it all just slipped out.” Jane gave an unhappy laugh.
Rosemary tutted. “He seemed like such a nice young man.”
Jane nodded. “He seemed that way at first, but in the end, he wasn’t.”
Anna tied her apron at the waist, pulling the strings tight. “Isn’t that usually the case? Things start out so promising, and then… then they really show you what they were all about.” The difference with her, though, was that she knew Mark’s pattern.
She set the last basket of croissants on the counter and was just about to start on the coffee when she caught Rosemary’s expression. Even Jane had turned ever so slightly to face her, one eyebrow cocked in question.
“Sounds like you’re speaking from firsthand experience,” Rosemary commented.
Anna’s fingers began to tremble as she scooped Kona beans into the grinder, remembering the brush of Mark’s hand on her own, the way they’d worked side by side in the kitchen last night, the way she had started watching the clock and then reluctantly left to fetch Jane, not wanting their time together to end anytime soon.
Something about him felt different. There was something hesitant about him, something less cocky. Something more… genuine. She smiled when she thought of the way he doted on Scout, even if he spoiled the poor dog rotten. Maybe he wasn’t as cold-hearted as she’d come to believe…
Nonsense! Just two weeks ago he was cavorting with her niece’s preschool teacher. Who was next?
Not her. Definitely, certainly, not her.
She jammed her finger on the pulse button, watching the coffee beans whirl and whiz until the pieces chipped and broke off, and all she was left with were the fragments. Just like Mark had done to her heart.
Anna set the coffee to brew and looked across the room at Rosemary. “You’ve set Jane up on two dates. I think it’s my turn now.” Her tone was clear and determined, and she felt her resolve tighten. She would go out on a date—it was about damn time.
She’d expected Rosemary to be ecstatic, but the woman sat rooted in her chair, her blue eyes wide with something close to alarm. Anna stood expectantly, waiting for her to say something.
“Well.” Rosemary pinched her lips. “I assumed you were too busy. What with the fire, and now the contest… Can Mark really spare you right now? This contest is only two weeks away; you must be spending nearly every spare minute together!”
Anna tipped her head. It wasn’t like Rosemary to back down on one of her own suggestions. “I can make time,” she said brazenly. Just saying the words aloud gave her conviction.
“If you’re sure…” Rosemary frowned and set her hands in her lap. “I just… it’s just that I know how great it would be for the two of you to win this contest. I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I didn’t think it was… exactly what you both needed. I hate to interfere now.”
Interfere? Since when did Rosemary Hastings worry about interfering?
The door chimed and from behind the tall stacks of books, Anna spotted a few of the book club women arriving for their weekly meeting. She counted out the mugs, making sure enough were clean, and stood at attention near the register, waiting to take their orders. The book club was a nice little perk to Saturday’s profit, and several of the women stopped in throughout the week as well, often bringing other friends. Many had enjoyed the bring-your-own-wine night; Anna would have loved to have been there, but Grace understood why she’d missed it. They were a team—with Grace covering Main Street Books and Anna holding up her end with the food and now the contest—and she liked it this way. Too many years of silence had passed between the sisters, and Anna still felt sorry for the time they had lost.
She and Grace were different, and they were still coming to terms with that. Grace had fled town when she and Luke broke up, whereas Anna could never give up Briar Creek, no matter what Mark had done to her.
Anna poured three coffees and made two cappuccinos, taking a moment to add a little heart shape with the foam. Back when the Fireside Café was getting off the ground, she’d worn many hats; that was years ago, but still she could nearly work the machine with her eyes closed.
She’d nearly forgotten how far she’d come. Now she had a manager, a barista, a dishwasher, two waitresses, and part-time staff to watch the bakery counter when she was busy in the kitchen. To think she used to manage all that by herself!
But then, what other choice did she have?
She plated a vanilla bean scone and handed it to Jane, who brought it over to the table. The women had all begun to chatter noisily, but several stopped to compliment her on the food. She never tired of a pleasant remark from a satisfied customer—it reminded her why she stuck with this. Why she was still fighting to keep her passion alive. Why she was even daring to dream bigger.
Fifty thousand dollars. In two weeks it could be hers. And then, if the space next door to Fireside was still free…
She sucked in a breath. She shouldn’t get ahead of herself. Not when reality could be so harsh.
“So, will you do it, Rosemary?” She folded her arms across her chest and waited.
Rosemary regarded her through her suspicious eyes, but finally smiled. “Of course. And come to think of it, I know just the man, too.”
Anna felt her pulse kick with instant regret. “Oh?”
“Yes,” Rosemary said with a lift of her chin. “This date will do the trick, my dear. I’m quite sure by the end you’ll begin to realize exactly what—or should I say who—has been missing from your life all along.”