But it didn’t stop his mind from spinning fantasies, or his heart from thundering at the thought of spending another day with her, basking in the light ofher smile—so close and yet a million miles away from having her in his arms.
He headed into town to kill a little time and stopped at the bakery for coffee.
The owner, Mal, seemed to always be working. He had a feeling that she was lonely too. He could see the edges of it in her smile and taste it in the poignant sweetness of her concoctions.
Why don’t I do us all a favor and just fall for the sweet baker?
But his heart had only ever shattered for one woman.
“Hey, Erik,” Mal said from the counter as he entered the fragrant and beautifully decorated space. “What can I fix for you today?”
“First of all,” he said. “Thank you so much for those trays you brought over on Christmas. You have no idea how much everyone loved them.”
“That’s so nice,” she said, looking really pleased. “And I’m so glad. It was fun to put them together.”
“Are you sure I can’t pay you for them?” he asked. “Even just for the cost of the food?”
“Absolutely not,” Mal said right away. “That was a Christmas gift to myself, being able to contribute.”
Erik sometimes wondered if people in town knew how much money he had. He suspected not. Mal drove an older car and wore neat but much-loved clothing under her aprons. It meant even more that shedonated so much to the Center when he saw how she scrimped on other things. She donated a daily box of “leftover” goodies up at the senior center too, a big enough box that it was clear she was making extra every day on purpose.
He promised himself he’d find a way to return the favor and help her out one day.
“Well, in that case, I’d love to get two coffees and a hot chocolate with cinnamon to go, please,” he told her. “And a box of whatever pastries you like best.”
“Excellent,” she said. “Congratulations again on having your new family in town. Everyone is so happy for you.”
“Thank you,” he said, feeling terrible that it wasn’t true.
“Bring them by sometime,” Mal said. “I’d love to say hello.”
“I will,” he told her, hoping there would be time before this was all over. The days seemed to be melting away so fast.
Mal hummed to herself as she fixed up his order, putting a gorgeous array of pastries in a white bakery box with the shop sticker on it.
When she rang him up she didn’t charge him as much as he’d expected. He waited until her attention was on the receipt and then stuck a couple of twenties in the tip jar. He hadn’t exactly been subtle, but he hated feeling like he was taking advantage, and Malworked hard and seemed to give away as much as she sold. A generous tip was the least he could do for now.
He’d parked all the way down by the Co-op Grocer’s, just to get a little fresh air. Walking back, he couldn’t help noticing the sweetness of the little town, as he did almost every day.
Two women in knit hats were talking and walking their dogs, a tiny dachshund and a big dog of no recognizable breed. They waved to a couple coming in the other direction, and the woman lifted one hand from her husband’s wheelchair to wave back as the husband winked and blew the ladies a kiss.
Further along, a gaggle of children laughed and called out to each other as they scampered up and down the snowy benches of the mini-amphitheater outside the library while their parents and caregivers chatted on the sidewalk above.
One day, maybe Erik would know all their names. For now, he was still so new in town that it hardly seemed right for him to be showing Jenny and Gael around.
But this place was so small and so special, and he was happy to share what knowledge he had with them.
He got into his SUV, carefully placing the tray of hot beverages on the floor of the passenger side and the box on the seat, and started the engine.
He quickly passed the landmarks of the tiny town, feeling glad that everyone still had their Christmasdecorations up. His own parents had always been adamant about getting every trace of the holidays packed up and put away on the twenty-sixth. Here in Trinity Falls, there seemed to be an unspoken pact to keep the spirit of the season going for as long as possible.
One of the guys at the Center who grew up in town told him about a New Year’s Day tradition of putting out candles in waxed paper bags. He suspected that after that all of the holly branches, wreaths, and lights would finally begin to disappear.
The suburban homes spread out into farmland, and before he knew it he was driving past the lake to the inn.
Now that he was this close, he couldn’t help thinking about yesterday and that fireside talk he’d shared with Jenny.
They were supposed to be making up a pretend relationship. So why did it feel like they were starting a real one?
