Snowflake Wishes (Holly Springs Romance Book 1) Page 11
“Hello?”
“Jake? How are you?”
I smiled. “I’m well. What can I do for you?”
Her frail voice was evidence of her nerves and I wished I could reach through the phone and wrap her in a hug. “I was hoping to invite you over for dinner this evening. Do you already have plans?”
“No plans. I would love that. What can I bring?”
I could hear her smile through her tone as she said, “Just yourself, young man. I will see you at six.”
* * *
Madison
I grabbed the burger Joey made and walked down the sidewalk toward the tree. My eye was drawn to the space with the hourglass, but I promptly looked away. I didn’t want to spend my lunch wondering about the mechanics behind the sand.
Because I’d already lost sleep the night before over it.
“You made it,” Jake said, standing up as I approached the iron bench.
He’d brought a blanket and laid it on the bench. It was thoughtful and surprising, and helped guard against the cold iron.
“May I?” He indicated the take-out bag I brought with me so I pulled out the top container holding the burger and handed it over. He opened the styrofoam lid and pulled a plastic knife out of his paper bag, cutting the burger in half. I tried to cover my surprise when he pulled a burger from his own bag and did the same thing, giving each of us half of both burgers.
“What is this?”
“Just an experiment. Bear with me.”
Nodding, I lifted my burger and took a bite. Jake was watching me closely, making me hyper-aware of how I chewed. The napkins were tucked under Jakes plate and I reached for one, sliding it free and using it to cover my mouth. I couldn’t help but grin while he was staring at me and I didn’t want to show him my mouthful of food.
That would not be cute.
Swallowing, I stared back at him. “What’s your deal, Jake? You just really like to watch people eat, or what?”
He laughed, throwing his head back. “I was staring, wasn’t I?”
I nodded.
“Sorry,” he said, picking up his own burger and taking a bite. He pointedly looked away from me and I kept eating. I admired the various ornaments on the tree opposite us. The town had added some ribbon and lights to tie the whole look together and it was a beautiful, grand tree. I’d seen the tree in Rockefeller Square, and I had to say that Holly Springs’s mishmash was still my favorite.
Finishing half of my lunch, I reached into the brown paper bag on the bench in between us, opening it to peek inside. “I thought you didn’t like fries?”
“I don’t,” he said, opening it further for me to see. “That’s why I got onion rings instead.”
Laughing, I took one out and bit into it. The Pub really made the best onion rings.
“Have you seen your grandmother again?” I asked.
“Actually,” he said, putting down his burger. “She invited me over for dinner tonight. She told me not to bring anything, but I was thinking of asking you to make a key lime pie. I would pay you, of course.”
Shaking my head, I tried not to laugh. “You don’t want me baking a pie for Mrs. Hart.”
He straightened his back. “Why not?”
“Mrs. Hart is known for her pies and I can guarantee she’s made at least one for your dinner tonight. She’s actually the one who taught me how to make a proper pie crust when I was younger. I mixed it all wrong before her instruction.” Grinning, I bit into the other burger.
Wow. The Pub’s burger was good. I hadn’t ever eaten them back to back like this, but the difference was evident, and almost shocking.
Was my dad scowling down at me now? He’d built a reputation for having the best burgers around. I could never admit it aloud, but clearly, we did not have the best burgers in Holly Springs, let alone the greater Rocky Mountain area.
Shame flitted through my body as I held The Pub’s burger in my hands and considered how I’d let down my dad. The duration of his chemo was difficult for both of us and we’d hired Joey to take over cooking in the diner once Dad’s nausea got to be too much. The smell of the food had been too overwhelming for him.
Come to think of it, once Joey took over, Dad never stepped foot in the diner again. At least, not when it was open for business.
“What are you thinking about?”
I snapped my head up and found Jake watching me curiously. I shrugged, taking another bite of my burger so I wouldn’t have to respond right away.
“Well, let me get to my point,” he said. “I asked you here for a reason.”
So this wasn’t just a weird date where we tested the town’s burgers? Not to sound full of myself, but our kiss had been pretty explosive. I was under the impression this guy was interested in me.
He regarded me closely, and said, “I want to try an experiment with your FotoFeed followers.”
Well, that was far from an interest in me. He was still hung up on my social media platform. I took another bite, waiting for him to continue, and hoping to hide the shame of my assumptions.
“I think you could pull people to Holly Springs from the resorts if you advertised The Bell.”
“I don’t post pictures of burgers and sandwiches, though. My account is purely dessert.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “And you don’t think people will pay a decent amount for a cupcake made by MaddieBakes?”
I dipped my head. I didn’t like the extra attention and speaking my username wasn’t giving him any points. “So, you think I should take advantage of my followers for some extra money?”
“No. It’s business. It’s not taking advantage, it’s offering them an opportunity to buy your products.”
“Because they liked pictures of them?”
He sighed. “It’s not as evil as you’re making it sound. Why do you think people love those famous steakhouses in Vegas and LA? Because the people who run them are on TV and it’s fun for people to go to the places they’ve seen on TV. Social media isn’t any different. It’s about the experience you’re offering.”
I watched him, skeptical. It felt wrong to me, though I didn’t know why. Probably because MaddieBakes didn’t start out to make money. It began because I needed something to focus on that wasn’t my dad’s cancer.
I didn’t want to taint that with greed.
Sighing, I lifted my burger from The Pub and took another bite, groaning with the physical reminder of my failures, once again.
“Are you okay?”
“No,” I said, at once. I caught Jake’s compassionate gaze and set down the burger. Wiping my mouth with a napkin, I turned to face him on the bench. “I’m frustrated. I was entrusted with this stupid diner and it’s failing and now we’ve got dirtbags from some nameless corporation closing us down without any chance to redeem ourselves and I just can’t find a way to save it.” I took a breath, then continued, “And then you have this brilliant idea, but it won’t work because I’m not a world-famous steakhouse owner with a show on TV to entice people to eat in my restaurant.”
“No, but you can bake.”
My teeth clicked together, the cold finally seeping through my coat and to my bones. Shivering, I got to my feet, putting the rest of my lunch into the bag. “Thanks for lunch.”
“Just try it,” he said. I would have thought he was begging, but he couldn’t be. Why would he care so much?
I swallowed a sigh. I turned to level him with a look, but his earnest gaze struck me at once. He might be a high-powered businessman of some sort, but he was sincere. And while I didn’t know how I felt about his theories, I did realize that he was only trying to help me.
“How would I go about it?” I asked, quietly.
His slow smile spread as he got to his feet. “Simple. Just mention your diner in a post. Maybe a dessert you’re offering and focus on that, since you aren’t trying to pull them into a diner anyway.”
“But that’s exactly what I’m trying to pull them into…I thought.”
I didn’t fully understand. He didn’t make complete sense. But I had to go with my gut and my heart, and both of them were telling me right now that I could trust Jake. Besides, no grandson of Mrs. Hart could be evil. It simply wasn’t possible.
14
Madison
I got back to the diner with two goals in mind: figure out when and how Joey’s burgers became mediocre and get a post on FotoFeed of the diner.
The lunch crowd was nonexistent and a horrible off-key rendition of Jingle Bell Rock met my ears as I pushed through the doorway. Joey was in the back kitchen, dancing along to the music as I walked through the dining room and leaned in the doorway. His apron was askew and the black t-shirt he wore to work was coated in a fine white powder, with splotches of some sort of batter or dressing on one sleeve. He was kind of a mess, but he was a good person.
And how was I supposed to ask him how he’d let the quality of food from The Bell slip? Obviously, he’d been good enough to pass Dad’s test. Did I really have a right to be so picky?
My gaze sought the Best Diner Award hanging in the center of the wall above the stove. This diner was Dad’s life and he’d given all of himself to The Bell, to me, and to Holly Springs. He was selfless and a hard worker, and his memory deserved better than this. I was not ready to let go of the diner yet. But maybe I didn’t need to.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I swiped it on and found the FotoFeed icon. I scanned pictures I’d posted recently, noting their likes, comments, and the amazing feedback I received from followers. There were so many that I couldn’t possibly reply to each one individually. But if they were to detour to Holly Springs on their vacations to the ski resorts nearby, then I could give them a fantastic in-person experience.
It actually sounded rather fun.
Going to the refrigerator, I pulled out a selection of the desserts I’d made and put away to keep on hand for customers. I tended to do things in themes and due to the holidays, I had a decent selection of pies. Key lime, razzleberry, and pecan pie lined the counter space. I pulled out a white plate and arranged the slices on it. Picking holly berries from the wreath on the wall behind me, I decorated the counter, dropping a few in between the pie slices.
I stepped back and looked at it with an assessing eye. A few sprigs of pine would be a nice touch. I glanced around for something to pull pine from, but everything I had in the store was fake. And I didn’t want to cut up my wreaths or garland.
The painted front windows drew my attention and I watched snow fall in large flakes outside. I had sat longer on the bench beside Jake than I would have on my own. It was freezing out there. I didn’t know what had caused me to agree to eating outside in December…oh, who was I kidding? Of course I knew what caused me to agree. Jake.
Stubbornness aside, I could admit to myself that I was beginning to develop feelings for him. It helped that he was so easy to get along with. And despite his odd burger thing, the crisp air and pine scented environment were perfect for a lunch date. Because that is what that was, right? I mean, it had to be a date. Right?
I stood suddenly. The tree was just down the road. I could go grab a few sprigs of pine for the pie photo and be back in a snap. I didn’t bother pulling on gloves or my scarf but jogged outside and down the sidewalk swiftly. I reached the tree and pulled off a few sprigs of pine, bringing them to my nose and inhaling the perfectly Christmas smell.
It was always my favorite tradition, the decorating of the Christmas tree. But I hadn’t done it yet and I didn’t plan to this season.
Things were different this year and I had not held myself to all the traditions that typically littered the holiday season. How could I?
I turned to go back and paused, my eye catching the hourglass with golden accents. Sand continued to pour inside the glass and I watched it, mesmerized by the continuous flow. It was not magic, obviously, but it was mystical all the same. And I was bound by it. I could not explain the pull I felt to this object, but something within me was drawn to it and the simplistic beauty of its design.
Time was such a powerful thing, and yet, at the same time, not.
A chill raced down my spine and I jogged back to the diner, my breath coming quick and shallow as I let myself into the warm building and pulled my coat off. Joey had moved on to Baby, It’s Cold Outside and was nailing the female parts. Of course, he was tone deaf, but that didn’t lessen his clear enjoyment.
I placed the pine sprigs around the pie, arranging the plate with aesthetic appeal. I hit upon the perfect angle with my camera and snapped a beautiful picture with blurry holly berries and pine before crystal clear images of pie slices.
Now was the hard part. I had to write a caption that would entice patrons to the diner but didn’t sound like I was begging or taking advantage of my platform.
The bell rang over the door and I glanced up to find Mrs. Hart step inside.
I rose to greet her. “Hello, Mrs. Hart. How can I help you today?”
“I can’t stay. I just wanted to stop by and invite you to my house for dinner tonight.” She smiled sweetly. “If you think you can get away from the diner, of course.”
I did my best not to glance around and highlight the emptiness of the diner. I could get away. Tessa was on the schedule for tonight, anyway. But why did she want me to come?
Clearing my throat, I asked, “Wouldn’t it be better if it was just you and Jake?”
Her head tilted as her smile grew. “He told me of your friendship and it was clear at Hidden Acres when I found you caroling that the two of you are friends. I look forward to getting to know him, of course, but I can’t help but think he would be more comfortable if you were there.”
“I don’t see how I can do anything to help,” I said, lifting a shoulder.
Mrs. Hart reached forward to squeeze my arm. “Because you will be a distraction. This is a lot for Jake to process. If you come, there will be a lot less pressure on Jake and me to catch up on the last few decades in one night.”
Her theory made sense. I could see her point and I didn’t blame her for it.
“There will be pie,” she said in a sing-songy tone. She leaned around me to eye my display on the counter. “Though maybe that isn’t quite the enticement it used to be.”
My cheeks warmed. “Your pie will always be the absolute best of Holly Springs,” I said loyally. “And I would love to come. What can I bring?”
“Just yourself, dear. All we need is you.”
Mrs. Hart squeezed my hand once more before letting it go and walking through the door, the bell chime reverberating long after she left. I sat at the counter, preparing my FotoFeed post and typing in the caption.
‘Tis the season for pie! My customers at The Bell have been eating enough to keep me busy all week.
I added a pie emoji and a Christmas tree, with a star for good measure. Then I tagged my location on the photo. There. That was good enough. I’d contrived a plug about the diner without being overly obvious or begging for patrons—despite how badly I needed them. I held my breath and clicked share.
* * *
Jake
When Grandma Hart told me earlier that she’d invited Madison to dinner as well, I didn’t question it. I was just glad Madison had accepted. And then I promptly texted her and asked if I could pick her up.
I couldn’t help but laugh when she replied that she’d take a ride, but only because she would be at the diner already. I hadn’t anticipated her coming out of the kitchen holding a wrapped loaf of bread and looking like she’d just stepped from the cover of a Christmas movie. Her red dress was chic and simple, and she looked incredible in it. Or maybe it was the loose waves she’d put in her hair, or the bright red lipstick that kept drawing my eye.
Whatever it was, I was hooked. And I felt inordinately lucky that she was riding in the front seat of my car.
“I thought you said not to bring anything?
” I said.
I glanced at her and her smile was small but pleasant, causing warmth to spread throughout my body. I clenched the steering wheel. What had gotten into me? I had feelings for her, of course, but this was more intense than anything I’d felt before.
“I told you not to bring dessert,” she said. “I brought bread, and it’s a gift for later.”
I raised my eyebrows and she laughed. “You know, just a friendly neighbor Christmas gift.”
I pulled into Grandma Hart’s driveway and turned off the car. “Like what you gave the old people at the home?”
She looked at me curiously, shaking her head. “No, that was just me serving my community. And that was fruitcake. This is just zucchini bread. Haven’t you ever gotten a neighbor gift for Christmas? Some homemade treats or a box of chocolates?”
I shook my head, trying to recall what any of my neighbors looked like. I didn’t really know any of them beyond a nod at passing. But my secretary gave me a basket of fancy fruit. And I’d had her send some of my top clients certificates for hams. She’d told me it was a good gift at the time. “I’ve gotten associate gifts at work.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, that’s about the same thing. But really, nothing from your neighbors?”
I got out of the car and walked around to open Madison’s door, but she had already let herself out. “It’s not that strange,” I defended. “I grew up in a totally different place than this.”
“I lived in California for a while when I went to culinary school. But even some of my college friends brought me caramel popcorn or a box of chocolates. You must have super cold neighbors.”
I tried to ignore the fact that she was essentially calling me cold as well. “It’s the city.”
Her nose scrunched up, wrinkles gathering on the sides. “It’s gross.”
I laughed. The desire to reach out and pull her toward me overcame me and we locked eyes. The front door opened and Grandma Hart called out, “Get in here before you freeze!” effectively killing the moment.