Cinnamon and Spice Conundrum (Cinnamon Rolls and Pumpkin Spice)

Chapter 31

Sadie

“I’ve never seen Ryan like this,” my brother says. “He’s pining over you.” The unexpected phone call comes two days after Team Ryan tried to convince me to listen to the handsome scoundrel.

“He’s back in Denver, I take it?”

“Yes. Since you refused to talk to him, he didn’t see any other option.”

A twinge of remorse sits in my gut at my stubbornness. I wouldn’t let go of my anger, and now that Ryan’s gone back to his old life, I’ll probably never see him again. A couple tears track down my cheek.

“I was kind of a butthead,” I mutter, using a term from our childhood, an insult that my brother and I used to toss back and forth at each other.

My brother laughs. “You were.” Silence hangs over the line, then Sam asks, “Why did you refuse to hear Ryan’s explanation?”

I bite my lip, hesitant to admit the truth. After a couple beats, I blurt, “I’m scared. Did I fall for Ryan or Jack? Who’s the real guy?”

“Sadie, believe me, you fell for the real Ryan. He’s a great guy, but most women can’t see beyond his bank balance.”

“I don’t care about his bank balance, but can I trust him?” I whisper.

Sam sighs. “Ryan is the most upstanding and honest person I know. You need to hear all the sorry details about why he felt compelled to look like someone else. It was merely a disguise; his personality was still the same. ”

After we hang up, I feel even worse than before. The minute Miss Louboutin Shoes came into the café, it was obvious why Ryan felt compelled to do what he did.

I’m starting to sound like the villain in this saga. Maybe I should have given Ryan a chance to explain and accept his apology. Is it too late?

Later that day, Georgeanne arrives at the café carrying a box of candy. It’s the most beautiful box I’ve ever seen, wrapped in fancy gold paper with a gorgeous red velvet bow on top.

“Ryan asked that I deliver these to you,” she says as she carefully sets the box on the coffee bar. Judith eyes the box with a look of wonder.

Of course, I should have known. The billionaire would send nothing less than something that is expensive, elegant, and extravagant. He’s sure trying hard to make me feel special.

Has Ryan returned to Pinecone Pines? “I thought Ryan went back to Denver?” My heart rises with hope.

“He did go back to Denver, but he wanted to make sure you received this gift,” Georgeanne says.

Just as quickly, my heart sinks, remorse replacing the glimmer of hope.

He’s not coming back, all because of me.

“These are made by the Godiva Chocolatier,” she adds in a conspiratorial whisper. “This is the Belgian chocolate truffles collection.”

“Ooh!” Judith says, clapping her hands. “Those are truly delicious.”

Ryan knows my weakness for chocolate. My mouth waters at the thought of those dark chocolate truffles filled with a variety of creamy centers .

“Thank you,” I say, swiping the box from the counter. “I’ll put these in back for safe keeping.”

The women trade looks but don’t comment as I trot off. Judith can wait on our guest while I enjoy a cup of coffee and one of these candies. My pants are starting to feel tight after all the breakup binge eating I’ve been doing. Why quit now?

“We have a special delivery from Mr. Turnbill,” Agnes says causing me to jump. Wilbur stands beside her carrying a cardboard box. They both have smug looks on their faces.

“Where did you two come from?” I squeak. They’re like ninjas, appearing out of thin air.

“You were daydreaming,” Agnes explains.

“Probably pining over Ryan,” Wilbur adds.

I was. It’s now been three days since Ryan left Pinecone Pines, and I miss him more each day. Whoever said absence makes the heart grow fonder sure knew what they were talking about.

“What do you have in the box?” I ask. Apparently, Team Ryan has been charged with delivering several gifts, not just the chocolates—which sadly are now all gone, but they were delicious.

Wilbur cocks a bushy eyebrow at his companion. Agnes must be the designated spokesperson for this drop-off.

She clears her throat. “Home-cooked meals for the lady,” she says, with a flourish of her hand towards the box.

“Ryan knows what a bad cook you are—”

Oomph! Agnes elbows Wilbur in the ribs as she gives him a stink eye.

“What? I didn’t say she was a bad baker,” Wilbur replies, rubbing his ribs.

“Please forgive my nitwit cohort. He doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. ”

Forgetting about me, the two glare at each other, then trade more barbs.

“You’re a blabbermouth,” Agnes says.

“You’re a party pooper. This was supposed to be fun,” Wilbur huffs. “I thought you liked romantic gestures.”

“I do! But you’re supposed to woo Sadie with sweet platitudes, not insult her.”

“Excuse me,” I shout, trying to break up the fray.

Two pairs of eyes swivel towards mine, and guilty expressions cross their faces.

“Tell me more about those home-cooked meals,” I say. “Did Ryan make them?”

Agnes glares at Wilbur, effectively sealing his lips. “Yes, Mr. Turnbill cooked your favorites,” she says, then starts pulling plastic containers from the box, sitting them on the coffee bar counter. When she plunks down a full bottle of ketchup, my heart flips. Leave it to sweet, wonderful Ryan to have all my favorites covered.

I blink back tears at the thought that Ryan prepared these meals for me. Even after I rejected listening to his apology, he did this thoughtful gesture?

“Spaghetti with meatballs and beef stroganoff. He also included breadsticks with marinara sauce,” Agnes says.

My mouth waters as I look at the array of containers spread out before me. A memory hits of when I spilled the noodles for the stroganoff on the cabin’s floor, and how sweet Ryan was, helping me clean up the mess. I miss him so much.

“Thank you,” I say in a watery voice.

Agnes tugs on Wilbur’s arm. “Enjoy the food!” she says with a breezy wave, directing her cohort towards the door.

“I was going to order one of those pricey quiches,” Wilbur says, his feet skidding to a stop as he points to the bakery case .

Tossing Wilbur a firm look over the pricey comment, I say, “Prices are staying right where they’re at. I know you’re on a tight budget, but I’ve got to make a living.”

He gives me a contrite, albeit grumpy, look. “Could you give a bigger discount on the plain coffee?”

My mouth opens to protest his suggestion, but Agnes cuts me off. “Let’s get out of here before she changes her mind,” Agnes snips.

They continue to argue as the door swooshes shut behind them. Maybe a bigger discount on plain coffee isn’t such a bad idea. That’s a pricing compromise I can get behind, although I’d love Ryan’s thoughts first . I miss him so much!

I load the containers and ketchup back into the box. I can’t wait to heat one of these up this evening. Ryan sure is pulling out all the stops to win me back. It might be working.

The next day while I’m wiping down the tables and booths after our morning rush, Dilbert staggers in carrying the largest bouquet I’ve ever seen. I can barely see his face peeking over the top. The splendid colorful array consists of pink roses, white lilies, yellow sunflowers, and purple hydrangeas. They’re artfully arranged in a cut crystal vase. Now that Ryan’s out of the picture, is Dilbert trying to catch my eye? I’ve always thought that the mechanic was sweet on me, but I’m young enough to be his granddaughter.

“Special delivery from Ryan,” Dilbert says, setting the bouquet down on the table I just wiped off, the heavy vase making a loud thump!

Judith beams as she watches the proceedings from beside the coffee maker.

“These are from Ryan?” I say lamely, fingering one of the perfect blooms. This arrangement is a far cry from those wilted daisies, although both brought tears to my eyes .

“They are. He wanted to make sure you’re showered with gifts so you don’t forget him.” Dilbert’s eyes widen, he puts his hand over his lips, and shakes his head. “Oops! Forget I said that. I wasn’t supposed to tell that part.”

I giggle at Dilbert’s amusing admission. Although the members of Team Ryan aren’t the smoothest operators, they’re definitely winning me over.

“These are beautiful,” I say, still gazing at the arrangement in awe.

“Where would you like them? It’s rather heavy.”

Smiling, I say, “Please put them on the corner of the coffee bar. I’ll be able to gaze at them all day long.”

Judith quickly rearranges the sugar packets and stir sticks while Dilbert lugs the behemoth over to the coffee center. He orders a mug of our plain brew and a cherry turnover to go while my new employee effortlessly handles the transaction. Judith is such a godsend, especially now that Ryan is gone.

The euphoria from the spectacular bouquet evaporates, and the feeling of remorse returns. I’ve been a colossal idiot. Will I ever see Ryan again?