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“I’m surprised you’ve never had one. I make them at the diner for the daily special a lot, but I call them The Lancenator.”
“The Lancenator,” I said through my laughter. “That’s bold.”
“They’re bold sandwiches,” he promised, flipping one over. “The bread is dipped in Becca’s eggnog for a fancy French toast opener, then I top it with thinly sliced ham and Swiss cheese before covering with another slice of French toast. I pan fry them to perfection,” he explained, turning the stove off and scooping the sandwiches onto plates. He cut them in half and set a small dish on each plate before he carried them over. “And served with a side of strawberry yogurt.”
“Seriously, Lance. This is like food porn right here. My mouth is watering. I can’t wait to give it a taste.” I picked up the hot sandwich and dipped the tip in the strawberry yogurt, bringing it to my lips. I felt his eyes on mine, so rather than make eye contact, I crunched into the bread and got my first taste. “Oh Lord,” I moaned. When I glanced up, he had his sandwich in his hand, but a look on his face that was pure desire. “That’s ah—amazing,” I stuttered.
“Thanks,” he said with a wink. “Now you see how it got its name. Some people like strawberry jam and others use mustard. This version is from Wisconsin.”
“Wisconsin?” I asked before I took another bite. “I think that’s called being a traitor.”
He laughed while he chewed and when he finished, he pointed at the yogurt. “Maybe, but Mom and I used to go camping at this little resort in Wisconsin every year. They had a restaurant and the Monte Cristo was on the menu with a side of strawberry yogurt for dipping. I thought it was a nice contrast to the sandwich because it wasn’t as sweet as jam. I’ve been making them since I was twelve, but only recently started using eggnog for the bread, of course.”
I nodded as I chewed, thrilled to be in a place that was safe and where I didn’t have to worry all the time about how to find basic necessities like food. “Of course. It’s not every day you happen to work for a woman who starts an eggnog business. I can’t believe how big Evergreen Eggnog has gotten in such a short time.”
He leaned back in his chair and stretched his leg out. “I was just thinking that the other day when people were already asking for our seasonal eggnog products. Becca made an impression on this town with her nog that’s now spread across the entire state. It won’t be long and the little bakery in Bells Pass won’t be big enough for the gallons of eggnog required to supply everyone for the holiday season.”
I pointed at him. “That’s already a worry. Cameron is looking for a building that he can buy and convert quickly so they have a bigger space. I wouldn’t mind, to be honest. It’s taking up so much space at the bakery that we’re limited with what we can do. If I had that space back, I could train cake decorators and offer more personalized cakes for special events.”
“All excellent ideas. You’ve added just as much to the bakery business as Becca has to the eggnog business. I won’t lie. Mason and I love having the kitchen, cooler, and freezer to ourselves. Since we moved Brittany to prep chef, she has her own space to work as well. We just hired Isaac back too. Do you remember Isaac?”
I shook my head, more sandwich in my mouth. Once I swallowed, I answered him. “No, I think he was a lot younger than us, wasn’t he?”
“He is. He started working at the diner in high school and then left and went to culinary school. Like you, he decided to come back to Bells Pass. So, we have a third cook now. That gives us a break from the sixteen-hour days we’ve been working. That was the reason I went back to work as soon as I could, I didn’t want to lose Isaac by piling too many hours on him.”
“Mason and Isaac understood,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “We all did, but it’s been nice to have you back. It’s also been nice to see some life back in your eyes the last week. We were getting worried.”
He tipped his beer bottle to his lips and held my gaze. “Finding my mother dead in bed was quite a shock to my system. I used work to stop thinking about it for a few hours. I shut down and did my job, not allowing myself to think about coming home to an empty house still filled with her possessions.”
“People have dealt with grief in worse ways.” I leaned forward and grasped his wrist. “I wasn’t judging you, Lance. I was saying we’re happy to see you coming back to us a little at a time.”
“A little at a time,” he repeated, nodding. “That’s my life right now. I told myself that a lot as I cleaned out her bedroom and emptied her closet. A little at a time will get the job done.”
“You did that already?”
“I had to,” he said, clearing his throat after his voice broke. “I couldn’t walk past the door and see the bed she passed away in any longer. I couldn’t see her bathrobe hanging on the headboard like it had for my entire life. I just had to clear away that room so I could breathe again.”
“That’s okay,” I promised, scooting my chair closer to him to take his hand. “The work had to be done regardless, and the timing of that work will always be when you’re ready. You were ready. No one will judge you for that.”
“I called the donation place in Saginaw that picks up furniture and clothing for the homeless being placed in new housing. They came with their truck and hauled everything away. Since I can’t drive, I couldn’t figure out any other way. They took the bed, but I did tell them about—”
I squeezed his wrist. “I understand. I’m sure that was hard, but Michelle would be happy to know her things went on to make someone else’s life better. That was your mom in a nutshell. I used to love coming to your birthday parties because your mom was so happy. She sang and danced and laughed in a way I had never experienced with a mother before. Brenda isn’t like that, so it was refreshing for me. Michelle always made sure I got an extra slice of cake because—”
“She knew how much you loved cake,” he said with a chuckle. “Yeah, she was pretty great. Now that the shock has worn off, I spend a lot of time remembering. That’s easier than thinking about the future without her. I don’t want to think about her not being here when I get married or have my first baby, so I remember all the good times instead. For right now, that’s the best that I can do.”
“And no one expects more. Cut yourself some slack and remember that it’s only been six weeks since she passed. You’re doing great. You’re finding healthy outlets for your grief and remembering her for the beautiful person she was. That’s exactly what she would want. I know my words are meaningless to you, but at the same time, I want you to hear that you’re making her proud. Okay?”
He nodded and tried to smile, but his eyes held unshed tears. “Your words aren’t meaningless. I’m not the kind of person who grieves in suspended animation. I grieve by doing. I grieve by trying to make her proud every single day. Maybe that’s the brain injury causing the pathways to be different or maybe it’s just the way I’m wired, but I know for sure she wouldn’t want me to waste a day of my life feeling sorry for myself. That wasn’t the kind of person she was or the kind of person she raised me to be. I think that’s the best way to honor her now.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes. I was remembering all the times I’d been in this house during my childhood. Lance and I were friends until we were twelve, and Michelle had been the shining light in the darkness of my home life for years. Then his accident happened and nothing was ever the same again. In high school, we worked together for a few months at The Hideaway but then he left and I never saw him again other than in passing. When I hired on at the diner this past winter, he was personable, but cool. Over the last few months, he opened up more and stopped looking at me like I was his arch-enemy. I wanted to ask him what I did to upset him, but it felt like a bad idea, so I held my tongue.
“If there’s anything I can do to help while I’m here, just say the word, Lance. I’m at the bakery a lot, but I also have a few days off every week. Would you like me to take care of her craft corner, so you don’t have to?”
His head popped up and he met my gaze. “Would you? That would be harder for me to clean out than her closet. She loved making her beads and crafts. The only thing I want to keep is her Christmas decoration book. If you happen to find that, I’d like it. All the rest can go.”
“She kept a book with all of her Christmas decorations listed?” I asked with confusion.
“No, it has all her ideas for Christmas displays in it. Some are the ones she’s already done, and some are ones she saw somewhere and liked, so she wrote it in her book. Every year, she would draw out her display for Christmas in it, and after she finished it, she would sign it. Having that book would mean more to me than this house itself.”
