The warmth that had lingered from our shared laughter and touch of our hands deepened at the thought that he wanted to remember this outing…or perhaps that was my own secret wish I was afraid to admit, even to myself.
Dusk painted the forest in shades of gold and lavender as we began the journey home. The return felt both quieter than before, and yet the sort of silence that no longer felt empty, filled with a conversation we didn’t need to speak aloud.
Several times our shoulders brushed, but neither of us moved away. When the trail narrowed, we walked closer together beneath the shelter of our cloaks. More than once I caught him looking at me when he thought I wasn’t watching. Each time my heart betrayed me with another rapid flutter.
For the first time since coming to live with Grandmother, I found myself dreading the sight of the bakery appearing through the trees. Because once we arrived, the journey would end. When it eventually did and I found myself alone, I would unroll my map of the hidden hollow and carefully mark every detail. The berry patch, the twin oaks, the winding path through the mist.
And perhaps I would add one final notation beside the clearing—not a landmark or a geographical observation, but just a single line:the place where I laughed again.
CHAPTER 8
Stepping into the bakery was like leaving a dream and returning to something familiar, enfolding me once more in an environment of warmth, routine, and control. Yet despite the welcoming scents of baked goods wafting through the air and the reassuring familiarity of home, I found myself hesitating on the threshold, a small part of me reluctant for my and Gabe’s outing to end.
Grandmother waited in the parlor, watching the door expectantly for my return. My wet cloak trailed water across the floor as I hurried forward. I gave her a scolding look. “You know you’re not supposed to be out of bed or moving about on your own.” My voice hitched slightly, undoubtedly a lingering aftereffect of Gabe’s strange influence upon me.
Though her weakened condition often confined her to bed, she could still move about, given enough determination and motivation…but that didn’t mean she should. Unfortunately, I knew my warnings were no match for her insistence on acquiring the latest gossip concerning her granddaughter as quickly as possible.
She waved away my admonitions. “I couldn’t very well leave the bakery unattended in case we got a customer.” Bythe mischievous glimmer in her eyes, we both knew the onlycustomershe had any interest in at the moment was the one currently standing uncertainly in the doorway, looking as though he wasn't entirely convinced he belonged there.
She leaned forward and lowered her voice to what she likely imagined was a discreet whisper, but which I was certain was loud enough to reach the doorway. “No ailment would keep me from greeting my granddaughter after her first outing with a gentleman.”
She peered around me for a better look and her eyes widened appreciatively upon spotting Gabe. Her gaze lingered longer than was strictly polite before drifting to the basket of berries he still carried for me. She nodded with painfully obvious approval, as though that single gentlemanly gesture had revealed everything she needed to know about our afternoon.
“I must say, Cecelia, he is a mighty fine specimen indeed.”
Heat rushed into my cheeks. I darted a nervous gaze in Gabe’s direction. Judging by the reddening tips of his ears, Grandmother’s whisper carried much farther than she’d intended…or perhaps exactly as far as she’d hoped.
He lowered his gaze, making it impossible to decipher his expression. After a brief hesitation, he squared his shoulders and stepped forward to offer a timid bow.
“My name is Gabriel. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“What a polite young man you are.” Grandmother cast me a meaningful look that clearly suggested I take note of this admirable quality. I hadn’t thought anyone could top Nutmeg’s insinuations, but clearly I’d been mistaken.
“This is my grandmother,” I said hastily before she could offer any further incriminating observations that might reveal her matchmaking intentions…although it was probably far too late for that.
The laugh lines around her eyes softened as she smiled at him. “You may call meGranny, dear. No need for formality.”
His previously tense expression relaxed. “It would be my honor, Granny.”
A strange tightness settled in my chest. Even I didn’t address her so familiarly despite her frequent requests that I do so. The formality I maintained created just enough distance to feel safe. She was the only parent I’d known for years, but I’d been reluctant to truly open my heart to her. Yet hearing him accept her invitation so naturally made me wonder whether I'd been wrong to keep that particular barrier in place.
Desperate for a distraction from such uncomfortable thoughts, I adjusted the blanket resting across her lap and tucked it more securely around her waist while doing my best to avoid eye contact.
Nutmeg proved much harder to ignore. The ember sprite kept darting into my line of sight, studying my expression with open fascination, as though searching for evidence of whatever had changed during my outing.
I wondered if they could sense the lingering afterglow that still seemed to enfold me. The thought alone made me desperate to escape the interrogation.
Turning towards Gabe, I clasped my hands together and adopted what I hoped was a businesslike expression. “Shall I bake your confection now, or would you prefer to return in the morning?”
“I’d appreciate it if you could bake it today, if you have time.” His gaze flicked towards the darkened windows; dusk had fully melted into velvety night. “Forgive me, I’d forgotten how late it’s become. Tomorrow would be acceptable.”
Sending him back through the forest after nightfall seemed unwise. His sense of direction was questionable even during daylight; darkness would only worsen the situation. Thetracking tart would help, but I wasn't entirely convinced it would be enough to compensate for his unfortunate talent for becoming lost. Not to mention there was no telling what creatures wandered the woods after dark. My absence of emotions hadn’t rendered me entirely heartless.
“I often bake late to prepare tomorrow’s stock,” I assured him. “It’s no trouble.”
After several rounds of obligatory politeness on both our parts, he finally surrendered the argument with a sigh. “Very well, I appreciate your generosity. Of course, I’ll pay you for your extra trouble—” He reached for the coin pouch at his waist.
“Nonsense, Cecelia will be happy to accommodate you at no extra charge,” Grandmother interrupted. “You may even stay for dinner.”
