Page 10

He smiled at me, his eyes filled with warmth and just a hint of sadness. “It doesn’t matter what I think, Meg. For it to work, you have to believe in yourself and your cookies. You’re an amazing baker and your artistry is out of this world. People rave about your cookies. I’ve had friends from college message me about them.”

“You know it’s not just me.”

“Mom doesn’t count,” he cut in with a firm shake of his head. “Leave her on the other side of the pond where she belongs.”

“Fine,” I said, rolling my eyes. “But I refuse to believe that you’ve received messages from friends about my cookies. When have your friends ever tasted anything I’ve baked?”

“Right after you got engaged. You stress-baked for days, and you sent me a huge box of cookies at school. I swear that some of the guys only contact me to ask if you’ve set up shop yet.”

Emotion welled up in my chest as I thought back to that day. Jim had just proposed, and—even though I should have been elated—I had a panic attack that lasted for days. The only way I could breathe was with my hands in a bowl of dough or holding a pastry brush.

“That should’ve been a hint right there,” I muttered to myself.

“Pardon me?” Edna asked.

I smiled tightly, shaking my head. “Don’t mind me. Just thinking out loud.”

“Of course,” she replied, looking around for somewhere to put her cup. “I do that all the time.”

“I’ll take that,” I offered, holding out my hand.

“Thank you. I really must be off. I’ve taken far too much of your time.”

I stood up too, stacking her cup in mine, and smiled. “Thank you for stopping by. You’ve given me much to think about.”

“My pleasure,” Edna said, beaming at me.

“Best of luck with the new baby!” I added as an afterthought as we reached the door.

She stopped on the threshold and looked back at me, a funny expression in her eyes. “Pardon me?”

“New baby? Didn’t you say something about your daughter having a baby boy?” I asked, replaying the highlights of our conversation in my head.

Edna shook her head slowly, her eyes heavy with something I couldn’t name.

The cups clinked when my hand flew up to my chest. “I’m so sorry. I have no idea why I said that. It just slipped out. I must have been thinking of someone else.”

Her smile was a little pinched as she reached over to pat my arm. “It’s quite all right, dear. We all say things a little out of the blue sometimes, don’t we? Now, please do let me know when you open. I’ll be sure to make a special trip. Here’s my card.”

“What was that all about?” Mac asked, coming to stand by me as I watched Edna bustle away up the street.

“I have no idea,” I replied, glancing down at the cups clutched in my hand. I couldn’t fathom what had sparked my outrageous statement.

“She was quite the character, wasn’t she?” he added. “Does her card say anything useful?”

I handed him the thick white card that simply read Mrs. Edna Fitzgibbon followed by a phone number.

“Not a darn thing,” I replied.

FOUR

Mac pulled his phone out of his pocket and swore under his breath. “If I don’t leave immediately, I’m going to miss my flight. I’m sorry, Meggie. I wish I could stay. I hate leaving you.”

“I wish you could stay, too.” I fought down the lump rising in my throat.

Intellectually, I’d understood that, by buying a shop in Scotland, I was choosing to be left behind when Mac flew home. But there was a world of difference between knowing something and having the bottom drop out of my stomach when I pictured him walking out the door.

After years of being desperately lonely with Jim, it hadn’t occurred to me to be worried about being on my own in Scotland. Not until I realized just how far Massachusetts was from my new home. And how few people I knew in town.