Page 61

TWENTY-TWO

Three days from the grand opening, the shop looked almost perfect. It wasn’t exactly as Edna had described it or as I’d seen in my vision, but I knew it was exactly how it was meant to be.

Everyone who stopped by to check on our progress marveled at the transformation, and I was slowly teetering from petrified to excited about throwing open our doors for business.

Over the course of the last few days, crates of loose tea had made their appearance, and each additional layer of scent had brought the store a little more to life.

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” Fiona cried, plucking the words right from my head. She clasped her hands happily. “I’m so excited.”

I grinned at her. “Me too. Nervous, but excited.”

“How are ye with the biscuits?” she asked. “Do ye need any help?”

For the fourth time that morning, I did a quick mental tally of the cookie inventory. My biggest concern about opening a cookie shop had always been the sheer amount of time it took to make them look how I wanted. Between learning to navigate life with two children and getting the shop ready for the grand opening, I was discovering that my fears had been warranted.

“I have three dozen ready and waiting in the fridge and three dozen more to decorate. I’m not sure when I’ll get them done, but I’ll do what I can,” I said, stifling a yawn.

Through trial and error, I’d found that the best decorating time was late at night after the kids were in bed. The first few nights alone in the shop kitchen, I’d been jumpy and unsettled, finding it hard to ease into my regular decorating rhythm. Then, late one evening, Art had come down, his laptop tucked under his arm, kissed me softly, and settled himself out of my way. Every night since, we’d worked silently side by side, occasionally looking up from our respective tasks to smile at each other before going back to work, hearts brimming with warmth and joy.

“Ye know, ye could make them a wee bit less intricate. Even better, streamline some of the designs so someone else could help ye,” Fiona suggested, not for the first time.

“That’s the plan. Down the road. I just want them to be perfect for the grand opening. Plus, we’re charging so much for these”—guilt clawed at my throat just thinking about it—“I really want each one to be absolutely perfect. I would hate for anyone to feel like they’re not getting their money’s worth.”

Art laughed as he walked by, pulling me into a hug. I smiled up at him and stretched up on my toes to meet his lips with mine. He returned my kiss with a soft half groan, half moan that I’d come to crave almost as much as the feel of his hand cupping the back of my head.

“All right, the both of ye. That’s enough of that. Ye’ll scare the customers away,” Fiona teased.

“I don’t see any customers,” Art replied distractedly without breaking eye contact with me.

“And there won’t ever be with the heat ye’re generating. Naebody’ll be needing tea at this rate.”

With a laugh, I kissed Art one last time and released him.

“As if anybody could feel like they were getting cheated after they taste your cookies,” Art said, as though we hadn’t interrupted the conversation with our kissing. “Or even look at them. And I’m not even talking about the really fancy ones. I can’t imagine anyone ever eating those. They’re just too pretty.” He winked at me. “Just like the baker.”

I blushed as Fiona pretended to gag, and Art’s laugh filled the room.

“I’m running out to get a cup of coffee. Can I get you ladies anything?” he asked.

Fiona glanced at me, and gestured at the tea behind her, arching her eyebrow invitingly.

“No, thank you. I think we’re going to have a cup of tea instead,” I answered, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “But do you think you could maybe take that child with you?” I said, tipping my head toward Merry, who was lying on the floor, aiming marbles at a large crack in the corner. “Remind me why he’s not in school?”

“Something about a teacher meeting,” Art said, shooting his son an affectionate glance. “I’ll take him with me. Maybe channel some of his energy into a romp on the beach.”

“How are things going with all that?” Fiona asked, gesturing to Art and Merry as they waved at us through the shop window on their way past.

Before answering, I glanced into the snug, where Viv was supposed to be working on a school assignment. Her laptop was there, but the teen was nowhere to be seen. The bathroom was far enough from where we were standing that I didn’t think she could hear me if I spoke softly.

I grinned at Fiona, letting some of the joy constantly bubbling inside me spill out. “Really well, actually. Far better than I expected. It all just feels… natural?”

“And that’s surprising because?” she prompted, pulling out the last of the teacups from the box she’d brought in.

The pretty daffodils on the delicate cup she placed on the counter caught my eye, and I reached out a finger to trace the design as I searched for an answer that made sense.

“I don’t know. Everyone says that stepping into an established family is hard and to set realistic expectations. But it’s been easy. Even with Viv. I don’t feel like an outsider with them, if that makes sense.”

“Does tae me,” Fiona said, nodding firmly. “And with Art?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.