The Tea Shop on Lavender Lane (Life in Icicle Falls) (13 page)

Especially when you spent all your money on clothes. But Bailey was in no position to judge. She couldn’t even begin to count the number of times she’d surrendered to the lure of a cute pair of shoes.

“Well, don’t give up,” she said. “It’s important to go for your dreams.”

“Yeah? I saw how well that worked for you,” Morgan retorted. The words were barely out of her mouth before her face acquired an instant sunburn. She stared down at her toes. “Sorry. That was mean.”

Mean but true, Bailey thought as Morgan slipped off to the kitchen for her break.

And now Morgan wasn’t the only one who was grumpy.

That night Bailey returned to her mother’s book for more sage advice.

You may be feeling like you are out of options. Trust me, this is never true. We always have options, always have choices. But sometimes, buried under discouragement, they can be hard to see.

Bailey wondered about Morgan the maid. Was she discouraged? Maybe she blew her money because she figured there was no sense in saving it. Maybe she needed to read this book, too. Bailey decided to pass it on when she was done. Even if a girl wasn’t lucky enough to have Muriel Sterling for a mother, she could at least have a Muriel Sterling book.

Bailey read on.

Sit down, either on your own or with a close friend or relative, and make a list of all your strengths. Once you’ve done that, make another list of all the possible ways you can use those strengths.

Hmm. What were her strengths? She padded out to the kitchen and grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil. Book in hand, she knocked on Cecily’s bedroom door, and then without waiting for an invitation, she walked in.

Just like when they were teenagers, her sister had her nose in a romance novel. She seemed embarrassed to be caught with it, quickly stuffing it in her nightstand drawer. “What’s wrong?” Then she saw what Bailey was carrying. “Oh. You’re reading Mom’s new book.”

“What are my strengths?” Bailey asked, plopping down on the bed.

Cecily snuggled back against the pillows. “Well, you’re creative. You’ve come up with a lot of great recipes.”

Bailey nodded and wrote that down. “What else?”

“You’re fun and enthusiastic. You’re optimistic. Most of the time,” Cecily amended.

Okay, the past couple of months she hadn’t been so optimistic. But even the sunniest disposition would have trouble breaking through the clouds that had been raining on her. First the catering disaster and then Brandon. Ick.

That had been a Memorial Day to forget. After seeing Brandon and Arielle she’d come home and eaten the chocolate silk pie she’d made the day before to take to the family barbecue at Sammy’s, standing over the sink, trying bite by bite to lose the image of Brandon and his new love in his old room, kissing passionately. She’d made a second dessert, a peach cobbler, but after her earlier eating binge she’d felt too sick to do anything, so the peach cobbler had gone off to her sister’s without her.

She was past that now. No more feeling sorry for herself and overdosing on chocolate. She was back to being optimistic, and she was going to stay that way even if it killed her.

“What else?” she asked as she wrote
optimistic
and underlined it three times for emphasis.

“You’re good with people.” Cecily covered a yawn.

Her sister had to work in the morning, and so did she. What was she doing keeping them both up?

“You’re loyal,” Cecily said drowsily. “You’re there when we need you.”

“I’m not sure how any of those things are going to help me find a new career,” Bailey said. “How did you know you were supposed to work at Sweet Dreams?”

“I don’t know. It just seemed to evolve.”

“And you love doing it.”

“Actually, I do.”

“That’s what I want,” Bailey said, looking at her list, “to find a career I love. I wish it could be with food. There must be something. Don’t you think?”

Cecily didn’t say anything, and Bailey glanced up to see that her eyes had dropped shut.

Maybe that was enough list-making for one night. Bailey switched off her sister’s light. “Thanks for being such a great sister,” she whispered, then started to tiptoe out of the room. Until she stubbed her toe on the corner of the bed. Then the tiptoeing turned to hopping and yelping.

“You okay?” Cecily asked.

“I’m fine,” Bailey said between gritted teeth and limped back to her own bed. Or at least she would be fine once her toe stopped throbbing. Once she’d figured out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.

By the end of the week she was no closer to figuring out her future, but she knew what she’d be doing that Friday night. She was going dancing at The Red Barn with Cecily.

She was just finishing her makeup when her cell phone rang. It was Olivia.

“I need help,” she croaked.

“Of course,” Bailey said. “What do you need?”

“I need you to come in and cook breakfast tomorrow.”

The icy fingers of dread grabbed hold of Bailey, and she swallowed hard. “But what about Betsy?” Betsy was a retired teacher who loved coming in on weekends and helping Olivia cook.

“She’s sick, too.”

“Well, then, Lorna?” Lorna Griswald was married and had three kids. She supplemented the family income by working in the kitchen on weekdays. Surely she could step in.”

“She went out of town with her family.” Now the croak had degenerated into a mere whisper. “I haven’t even felt well enough to plan the menu.”

“But you plan your menus on Thursdays,” Bailey said. And then Olivia bought what she needed for the weekend on Fridays. Olivia had been well enough to go shopping on Thursday. Now Bailey was smelling a rat.

“I think that’s when I started feeling bad,” Olivia said, sounding as though Death was hovering at her elbow.

Bailey could hardly come right out and tell her boss that she was full of hoo-ha. “Are you sure you feel that bad? Maybe by tomorrow...”

“I can’t wait until tomorrow. People will be wanting their breakfast. Oh, honey, I’m sorry to ask, but could you please pitch in just this once? You can make whatever you want.”

Whatever she wanted. Her imagination began skipping in circles. Oh, it was so tempting. But... “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Please. I’m depending on you.”

Bailey swallowed again. She couldn’t do this. Olivia shouldn’t ask her.

“Please. For me?”

“What if somebody gets sick?”

“No one will get sick,” Olivia promised.

“But if someone does?”

“That’s why we have insurance. You’ll be fine. I can’t talk anymore. I need to sleep. Come on by, and Eric will give you a blank check. Thank you, honey.”

And then she was gone, leaving Bailey with a dial tone in her ear and a knot in her stomach.

Chapter Eleven

“Y
ou ready to go?” Cecily asked, coming into the bathroom, where Bailey stood staring at her cell phone. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I have to make breakfast at the lodge tomorrow.”

Cecily smiled as if this was good news. “That’s great.”

“Olivia doesn’t have the menu planned,” Bailey continued, her voice rising along with her level of panic.

“That’s even better. Now you can get creative.”

Bailey shook her head. “No, I can’t. I...can’t do this.”

Cecily grabbed her by the arms. “Yes. You can. You really can.”

The bad thought wouldn’t go away. What if someone got sick?

“No one’s going to get sick,” said her sister, the mind reader.

Someone was going to get sick right now, as a matter of fact. “I don’t feel good,” Bailey whimpered and collapsed against the bathroom vanity.

“You’ll do great,” Cecily assured her.

“But what if—”

Her sister didn’t let her finish. “Nothing’s going to happen. You can’t let one bad experience stop you from doing something you love. Deep down, you know that.”

Did she? Maybe. The one thing she did know was that she missed being able to cook for people. It was fine making dinner for her and her sister every night, but that wasn’t the same as creating a meal for a large number of people. What she was doing now was the equivalent of an artist hanging her paintings in her closet.

“How many people would you say ate your cooking before the Samba Barrett party?”

She’d had hundreds of catering gigs in L.A. And before she’d moved, she’d been making goodies for everything from friends’ birthday parties to church events. “A lot.”

“And none of those people ever complained or got sick. Right?”

True.

“And we know Samba Barrett faked her illness for the publicity. Right?”

“Right,” Bailey said slowly.

“So, do you really want to let one faker keep lots of other people from enjoying all the yummy things you come up with in the kitchen?” Cecily asked softly.

“No,” Bailey decided. Here was an opportunity to do what she loved. She shouldn’t run away from it even if she was scared. And Olivia hadn’t planned the menu yet (or so she said). Bailey could make whatever she wanted. Well, within limits. She didn’t want to get too extravagant. Olivia hadn’t mentioned a budget, but Bailey was sure her boss would want her to stick to a reasonable amount. “I could make muffin-tin omelets,” she mused. “And Mom’s almond puff pastry,” she said, getting excited. Add to that a nice fruit salad, and she’d have a lovely menu. “I’d better get over to the lodge. I need to check on how many we’ll have for breakfast. Then I’ve got to make a grocery list and go shopping.”

“I guess this means we’re not going dancing,” Cecily said with a smile.

“Oh, my gosh! I’m sorry. I just wrecked your Friday night.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll find something to do.”

Of course she would. She’d call Luke. She’d probably only suggested going dancing because she was worried about Bailey’s not having a life. Well, it looked as if she had a life now. She was smiling when she hurried out of the condo.

* * *

Bailey had just rushed out the door when Todd called Cecily. “Hey, thought I might sneak away from the old cave and come spin you and your sis around the floor at The Red Barn.”

“There’ll only be one sister to spin,” Cecily said. “Bailey got called in to cook breakfast at the lodge. She just left to plan her menu and go shopping. She’ll be busy all night.”

“So, you’re there all alone? What a shame. I’ll be right over.”

Not so long ago she would have retorted, “Who says I want you to come over?” They were well beyond that now. “Good idea,” she said.

* * *

Eric was behind the reception desk watching a movie on his laptop when Bailey arrived at the lodge. “I hear you’re in charge of breakfast,” he greeted her.

She nodded. “Is your mom really sick?”

“She’s in bed,” he said, not actually answering Bailey’s question. “So, what are we having?” She told him, and he grinned. “I have to wait until morning for this?”

If the guests reacted half as positively she’d be happy. “Afraid so,” she said.

“I don’t know if I
can
wait.”

“I might be able to find a small piece for a food tester,” she said.

“You want me to help you get the groceries?” he asked as he gave her a check.

“No, I can handle it. Anyway, you’re busy watching a movie.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call that ‘busy.’”

“It’s okay. I can handle it,” she repeated.

“Yeah, you can,” he said. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Courage?” she joked.

“You’ve already got that. You just need to tap into it.”

She sure hoped he was right.

She double-checked the number of guests and then sat down and did some calculations, figuring out how much food she’d need and how many ingredients she’d have to purchase. Her nerves made it hard to concentrate at first, and she wound up doing her math three times. Then she went into the office and had Eric go through the numbers.

“That’s right,” he told her. “You know what you’re doing.”

Yes, she did. Ooh, but what if something went wrong?

That thought trailed her up and down the aisle at the grocery store, but she did her best to ignore it.
You can do this,
she kept telling herself. And once the shopping was done, once she was back in the kitchen at the lodge, whipping up her choux pastry, she almost began to believe herself. She was back on familiar ground, doing work she loved, so she tried not to spoil it with negative thoughts.

Still, she couldn’t help praying,
Pleeease, don’t let anyone get sick tomorrow.
Although as nervous as she was, there was a good chance someone would. Her!

* * *

Twenty minutes after he’d called, Todd was leaning in Cecily’s doorway, holding a take-out pizza from Italian Alps and a pack of wine coolers, smiling at her with that wolfish grin of his, making her pulse jump. He also had a DVD.

“I don’t want you saying I only came over here to grope you,” he said as he sauntered past her.

“Oh? So, no groping tonight?”

“I didn’t say that.” He set the pizza on the coffee table and made himself at home on the couch. “Hungry?”

Not with the way her sister was feeding her these days, but she had a weakness for pizza, and with the box open, the aroma was wafting over and tickling her nose. “I’ll get plates,” she said. “What’s the movie?”

He held it up and she blinked. It was the latest remake of
Pride and Prejudice.

“Hey, don’t look so shocked. I told you, I’m not a total Philistine.”

Now she was suspicious. “You just got that to score points.”

“Well, that, too,” he admitted. “I thought you’d like it.” He walked over to her DVR and put in the movie. “Come on, beautiful. Hurry up and get those plates. Mr. Darby is waiting.”

“That’s ‘Darcy,’” she said as she pulled plates from the cupboard.

“Whatever.”

Cecily sneaked a peek in Todd’s direction a couple of times during the movie and was surprised to find him actually paying attention. “I can’t believe you watched the whole thing,” she said as the ending credits began to roll.

He grabbed her remote and switched off the movie. “Things don’t always have to be blowing up to get my attention.”

He started playing with her hair, and that got
her
attention. “It was sweet of you to pick that movie,” she said softly.

“That’s me,” he said. “Mr. Sweet.”

She frowned at him. “Can’t you ever be serious?”

“Well, yes. In fact, I’m about to show you how serious I can be.” He put an arm around her and drew her close. “I’m serious when I say you’re an irresistible woman,” he murmured, his lips grazing her ear.

Now she was craving the feel of his lips on hers. She turned her face to him and closed her eyes and Todd took it from there. And, boy, did he know how to take it.

But part of her—darn that sensible self!—wasn’t ready to succumb completely to his charms. “Look at the time,” she finally said. “You should be going.”

He gave her a mock frown. “Can’t
you
ever be serious?” Before she could say anything, he held up a hand. “I know. I know. You are. I should probably pop in at the old cave and see how things are going anyway.” He paused. “But are you sure you don’t want to watch another movie?” he added and waggled his eyebrows.

She knew what that was code for. She shook her head. “My sister will be home soon.”

“And you don’t want her to find out you’ve got a man up here?” he teased.

“Something like that,” she said lightly.

In reality, she didn’t want to examine her motives for not letting Bailey meet Todd. At least she didn’t want to examine them too closely. She suspected that, deep down, she wasn’t all that secure about her new relationship with him. Much as she loved her sister, she didn’t want to share. There was something about Bailey. Her freckles? Her fresh-faced happiness? Her curves? Whatever it was, Bailey, like Mom, never had trouble attracting men. Cecily might have been considered the family beauty, but if you asked her, Bailey was the true man magnet.

She gave Todd one last kiss and then shooed him out the door. He’d been gone only ten minutes before Bailey rolled back in, all bright eyes and enthusiasm. “Breakfast is going to be fantastic,” she predicted. “I’m sorry I ditched you, though.” Then she caught sight of the pizza box with a few slices remaining and threw her sister a knowing look. “You had company.”

“I did,” Cecily admitted and hoped Bailey didn’t ask who that company had been. She probably assumed it was Luke, since Cecily hadn’t mentioned that she’d put the brakes on that relationship.

Bailey hugged her. “I’m glad. It’s about time you found someone nice.”

Cecily wasn’t sure
nice
was the right word to use in describing Todd Black. But there were other words that worked just as well—like
sexy
and
exciting
and
addictive.
“I have.”

* * *

Todd swung by his place and took a nice, cold shower before going to check in on the Neanderthals hanging out at The Man Cave. Cecily was making him crazy. He was more than ready to go beyond what she’d so lovingly referred to as a “grope fest.” Groping was all well and good, but it only got the party started, and staying stuck at that sexual level hardly made for a satisfying relationship.

Something was holding her back and it wasn’t his technique. She reminded him of a little kid perched at the edge of a pool with her dad in the water urging her to jump. But she couldn’t.

It was as if there were parts of herself she kept curtained off. She’d wanted to know all about his past love life, but she hadn’t shared much of hers. Had somebody hurt her?

Hard to imagine anyone hurting Cecily Sterling. Who’d want to? She was too nice. So, how had she gone this long without getting engaged? Too picky?

He remembered when he’d met her. She’d been with her sister Samantha, and they’d had a flat tire and pulled into The Man Cave’s parking lot. He could still see the look of disdain on her face as she’d taken in his tavern for the first time. She’d hidden it quickly enough, but he’d seen. Maybe she
was
too picky.

But if that was the case, what was she doing with him now?

Dumb question. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. He could feel the electricity in the air whenever they got together. At some point she was going to let him give her all two hundred and twenty volts. He just had to find a way to reassure her that he wasn’t out to hurt her and that she wouldn’t get burned.

His bartender, Pete, was holding down the fort and didn’t really need him, but he went behind the bar to help out anyway. He liked being here, liked the guys who came in and liked being on top of what was going on in his business. Henry was seated at his regular spot at the bar, Pete keeping him company, wiping up a spill with his bar rag. “What are you doing back here?” he greeted Todd. “Mike said you had a hot date.”

“I did.”

“Must’ve cooled off,” Henry observed. “What happened? Did the lady lose interest?”

No, she just lost her nerve.
“Anybody ever tell you you’re a nosy old codger?” Todd said with a frown.

“These younger guys think they’re so hot,” he said to the old geezer next to him, “but they’re not built as well as us.”

The other guy chuckled. “Got that right. All flash and no substance.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Todd said with a grin. “If I need help, I’ll be sure to come to you two.”

“Vitamins,” Henry insisted. “And nuts,” he added, scooping up some cocktail nuts from the bowl in front of him. “Protein keeps the old muscle working.”

“You got any muscle at all, Henry?” teased one of the younger men, who’d left the pool table in search of another beer. “Bet it’s been a long time since you used it.”

That had all the men guffawing and Henry sputtering about his virility.

“So, how’s it going with Cecily?” Pete asked as the other men joked with each other.

“Good,” Todd said. Even though they were moving more slowly than he would’ve liked, they were still headed in the right direction. Now, if he could just get Cecily to quit putting on the brakes so they could get there...

* * *

At the Icicle Creek Lodge, customers made reservations for when they’d like breakfast—anytime between the hours of seven-thirty and ten in the morning. The lodge was full and most people wanted to eat between eight and nine.

Bailey was ready for them, though. Her Danish puff (which Eric had sampled and heartily approved) had been sliced and arranged on plates, one for each table. In addition to the pastry, she’d also made the salad the night before and grated the cheese for her muffin-tin omelets. Breakfast went out to everyone right on time, and later Misty, the teenage server, returned with more than dirty plates. She had a pile of compliments for the chef.

Bailey felt as if she’d been holding her breath all morning. Now her breathing began to return to normal, and the muscles that had been huddled tightly together in her neck and shoulders relaxed. She’d done it. She’d served up a meal and nobody had gotten sick. Or pretended to. So far.