Robin smiled, grateful for a moment for her heart rate to slow. “No problem. What’s up?”
“I just talked to Principal Chase. Since when are you making cupcakes? I thought you weren’t going to go against your grandma’s wishes.”
“Well, that was before I needed some quick cash.” She filled Megan in on the kitchen disaster and how the cakes would help supplement the bakery income.
Megan laughed. “Only you would consider baking works of art to be ‘quick cash.’”
Robin couldn’t help but laugh along. “Hey, baking is all I know.”
“Well, after I found out about the cakes, I had a brilliant idea. Why don’t I hire you to bake cupcakes for the Snowball Dance?”
“What? That would be great! But how are you involved in the dance? I didn’t think Josh would be old enough to go.”
Megan sighed. “Don’t ask. I was at a PTA meeting for the middle school, and someone mentioned they needed some things organized for the dance. One thing led to another, and I found myself on the committee.”
“Oh, Megan.”
“I know, okay? I have issues with the wordno. But about those cupcakes. We’d need around two hundred. Will that be okay?”
More than okay. She’d have to put in some overtime to get them ready the week of the dance, but her time didn’t cost anything. “That’s doable. What’s the theme for the dance?”
“They’re going with a general winter theme. Think white and snowy.”
Robin began jotting down some notes. “Ah, the brilliance of high school. I think my high-school motto wasCarpe Diem, and I thought I was the height of sophistication.”
Megan laughed. “Tell me about it. But to these kids, this will be a magical night. Provided we can pull it off. I still need two more chaperones. I’ll probably end up doing it myself.” Megan stopped speaking. Then, “Wait a minute. Why am I chaperoning this thing? I have a seven-month-old, and I can barely stay awake past nine anymore. You should chaperone.”
“Um, no, thank you.” She sketched out a snowflake shape.
“You were the one who just told me I had a problem saying no. Help me say no by saying yes!”
“I’m confused.”
“No, you’re not, funny girl. Help me off the hook on this one.”
Robin heard herself agreeing. “Fine. I’ll have to be there anyway to deliver and set up the cupcakes.”
“Great! I knew I could count on you.” A baby started crying. “Oops, there’s my signal that I’ve spent too long on the phone. Seriously, thank you, Robin. I owe you one.”
Robin ended the call and stuck the phone back into her pocket. Sammy had stopped pulling up boards while she was on the phone, but now he popped another one.
“I think I’ll take up these last two boards, then finish cutting out this area when you’re closed for the night.” Still kneeling on the floor, he showed her where a fine blue chalk line outlined a rectangle near the sink. “I’ll also take out the ruined cabinet and prep the floor for the tile. That will probably take me a couple of hours. Unless, of course, if you’d rather I don’t stay here on my own and lock up, I could just wait until tomorrow, but that would extend the project another day or two.”
“No, I don’t mind you locking up. I trust you. I’ll be sure to put the padlock on the display case, though—I can’t have you sneaking the cupcakes.” Robin shot him an arched eyebrow, then laughed at his fake innocent face.
“Don’t worry, ma’am, your cupcakes are safe with me.” Sammy’s terrible Western accent and doff of his imaginary cowboy hat caused a hooting laugh to erupt from Robin.
She caught her breath. “Honestly, though, I said it before and I’ll say it again. You’re a lifesaver.” She wiped a hand across her forehead. “That was Megan on the phone. She wants me to chaperone the Snowball Dance. I haven’t thought about that dance in years, and now it comes up every time I turn around.”
“Was it our senior year when someone got sick and threw up all over the gym?” Sammy sat back on his heels and rested his forearms on his knees. His legs must not have been bothering him today. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt, and his blond hairs caught in the light, turning his arms bronze like a Greek statue.
“Yep. Senior year. I don’t remember who it was that got sick, though. Ah, good times.” Resorting to sarcasm might keep her mind off the healthy, not-at-all-sick male specimen in front of her. Escape would be a good idea. “I, uh, need to check something in the front.” She needed to catch her breath.
Because somewhere in the past few days, Sammy Johnson, with his kindness and his care, had run an endgame past her defenses and back into her heart.
* * *
Fixingthe Fox Bakery’s floor had bonus benefits Sammy hadn’t counted on. Benefits like hearing Robin hum the theme song forGilligan’s Islandand listening to her laugh with Ben Zimmerman.
