Sprinkle All The Way (Evergreen Lake: Under the Mistletoe)

Chapter 2

two

NOAH

Brayden gives me a guilty look as he slides his apron across the counter.

“Not you too,” I groan, dropping my head to my hands and rubbing my eyes.

“I’m sorry, man. My mom said if I worked here, I could kiss my new car goodbye,” he says, shrugging.

Over the past week, my entire staff has quit on me. Brayden was my last employee, and now I’m left alone. Once word got out I was the one reopening Gingerbreads, people weren’t too pleased a delinquent like myself would be running a cookie shop. Teenagers are all I can afford to hire right now, and none of their parents want them working for me. They’re acting like I murdered someone, instead they’re harboring resentment from the past and making assumptions based on rumors.

“What’s the rumor today?” I ask.

Ever since I returned to Evergreen Lake a month ago, everyone equates me being in a situation where someone got arrested to me being in prison. I blame my reputation from high school and record-breaking number of suspensions. I was always getting suspended for starting fights, but I didn’t know how else to channel my anger. One particularly bad year at the Christmas Festival another student made a comment to me about my mom and I lost it. I ended up starting a fight that my friends were quick to join in on, which got out of hand and landed me directly in the festival’s giant tree. Everyone was less than pleased when it fell over and ruined several stands, including the hot chocolate one. Luckily no one was hurt, but everyone kept their distance from me after that. If anyone knows how to hold a grudge, it’s the residents of Evergreen Lake.

That incident landed me my record-breaking suspension number, even though it didn’t happen at school. It was the only award I ever won in school—well, an award Violet Emerson crafted for me. A flash of the girl next door fills my mind, her with a smile that reached her bright eyes as she handed me the award. She was so proud of how fast she put it together even though it was just a piece of foil with ‘first place’ written on it in Sharpie on a string.

The memories are gone as quickly as they appeared and I’m thinking about how this town hates me again. It seems like every day there’s a new rumor as to what I did. One day I had supposedly broken into an animal shelter and dyed all the animals key lime green. Nowadays, my dad’s voice telling me I’m unwanted is in the forefront of my mind more than ever.

“You drove into a grocery store while trying to use a bong,” Brayden informs me, holding in a laugh. He’s a good kid, and I was hoping he would be the one employee to stay. But the parents in this place are scary when it comes to getting what they want, especially the moms. And what they want is me gone.

“I don’t even smoke,” I groan.

“Well, you know how they are. I really am sorry though,” he says, running his hands through his shaggy blond hair. He was the first one I hired, so it seems fitting he’s the last one standing.

“It’s fine, I’ll figure something out. If anything changes you’re welcome back,” I tell him.

“Good luck, man.” Brayden shakes my hand before heading out the front door.

Staring at the empty shop, I start to wonder why I returned when I left on purpose years ago. Back to a town that never liked me and full of memories that only leave a sour taste in my mouth—mostly. The only good ones I have of this place either involve a tall brunette or a short old lady, both conjuring drastically different types of memories.

At least one of my old high school friends, Sydney, is back here, too, but that doesn’t help my case much. I’m trying to shake off the negative view everyone has on me. Hanging out with the same people from high school doesn’t seem like a good idea. Senior year we super glued everyone’s lockers shut as part of the senior prank. Sydney and I were the only ones who ended up getting caught for it, and we spent a week cleaning it up. She’s been the only one who has treated me like a person since arriving, besides my mom.

With Sydney working next door at Sips—the local coffee shop—I should see more of her, but I’ve been so busy figuring out this whole small business thing that I haven’t had the time.

Even if I did have time, I mostly keep to myself. The shop needed a lot of work when I first got here, and I’ve been focused on fixing everything. Last New Year’s, I expected this year to be full of the same old stuff. Jumping from job to job, hoping I would finally find one I liked enough to stay. I never would have guessed this year would bring me to this town.

The memory of last month comes flashing back, when everything changed after a bar fight that got out of hand. My mom had been trying to call me all night, but I didn’t have the energy to answer. By the time I got home it was too late to call her back, so I waited until the next morning. When I finally called her she answered her phone while shopping in Hanson’s Mercantile, the local general store.

“Noah Phillip Callahan.” My middle name always made me flinch. One, because it was never good when your mom middle named you. Two, because it was my dad’s name, and I tried to think about him as little as possible. I’ve considered changing it, but I’m too lazy to actually figure out how. “I was calling you all last night and you didn’t answer once?”

“I’m sorry, Mom, I was dealing with something. There was this bar fight and some guys ended up getting arrested so I had to talk to the police,” I told her. I also didn’t want to call her back, but I wouldn’t admit that. I needed a break from her and anything that reminded me of Evergreen Lake. Eight years of a break wasn’t enough though—an infinite amount of years wouldn’t cut it. No matter what I did, Evergreen Lake was always in the back of my mind with Violet right next to it. I couldn’t think about one without thinking about the other.

“Well if you had bothered to call me instead of getting yourself arrested, you would know I have some important news for you,” she said. I heard the whispers in the background and knew whoever was hearing this conversation was going to spread that misinformation like wildfire. If you wanted the town to know about something all you had to do was speak up in public.

“I didn’t get arrested, two other guys did,” I corrected her. “But I know, I’m sorry I didn’t pick up.”

“Well, either way, you could have sent a text letting me know that you were okay instead of ignoring me. Anyway, you need to come home,” she said.

“Why? What happened?” My heartbeat had picked up, and I needed her to make it fast since I know if we stayed on the phone for too long I would be stuck for an hour hearing about things I didn’t care about. My mind immediately went to the girl next door, the one thing I wouldn’t mind hearing about. She left town when I did, and I never dared to ask about her. Maybe she was back, probably with a rich husband, two point five kids, and a dog. I never hated an imaginary dog so much before.

“I wanted to tell you this at a better time, but I suppose this will have to do,” she said through a sigh. “Sweetie, Ginger died. Her lawyer contacted me looking for you, I think she left you Gingerbreads. Please come home.”

Beeping pulls me out of the memory and I rush into the kitchen. I open the oven and pull out the chocolate chip cookies and place them on the counter. The smell of fresh cookies fills the space, and it helps to slow my heart rate.

They look perfect.

I hate them.

There’s no point in keeping them since I won’t be able to open in December. How can I open with no staff? Why did I think I could open in time for Christmas? One month isn’t nearly enough time to fix this place and sort through all the papers in Ginger’s office. I thought opening for the beginning of the festival would show the town I care about and want this shop to succeed, but now that all seems futile.

Tossing the cookies into the trash, I turn off the appliances and head upstairs to Ginger’s— my —apartment.

Falling onto her couch, a defeated sigh fills the silence. I’m sitting here in this apartment alone, and the walls are bare with outlines of old frames from Ginger. My mom and her new boyfriend packed all Ginger’s stuff and moved it to the basement before I got here, leaving me with only the furniture and the basics. But it still doesn’t feel right.

It’s unsettling sitting in her apartment without her here. Ginger was like a grandma to me. Her cookie shop was one of my favorite places to escape to. I never had any money though, and one of the first times I went in Ginger caught me trying to steal a chocolate chip cookie. She didn’t react like everyone else though. She let me keep it and told me to come back the next day or she would call my mom.

The next day I showed up and she put me to work. I started on dish duty. When I started asking her questions about baking cookies, she taught me about what she was doing. Soon I was spending my days after school working there or doing homework at one of the small tables with Sydney and our other friends. When I was working I would give them any cookies that were messed up, sometimes messing them up on purpose for my friends. Occasionally Violet would come in, too, and I would sneak her an extra cookie with her order.

It helped to keep me out of some trouble and away from my house. The only thing that pulled me home was the temptation of climbing into the window next door.

Now a box stares at me from the coffee table, filled with sealed letters adorned with instructions on each one. They remind me of all the birthday cards Ginger would send me each year, along with a crisp hundred dollar bill. I’ve looked through them multiple times, memorizing all the prompts, and I was prepared to open one this weekend. It’s sitting on top, mocking me. Just like I never lived up to my dad’s expectations, I’ve failed to accomplish the task Ginger set out for me.

Open the night before you reopen the store

Now I’m unsure when, if ever, I’ll be able to open it. There’s no way I can run a shop by myself.

Pushing it aside I go for the familiar envelope I’ve memorized. Picking it up and pulling the letter out I reread the words like there might be something new in them .

Open first

Dear Noah,

I’m sorry to have to do this to you, but you were always my favorite. I’ve missed you around town. If you’re reading this, it means I’m no longer around. A shame, but probably time.

Since I don’t have any family I’m leaving everything to you. You have no idea how much I enjoyed it when you worked at Gingerbreads. I loved teaching you, and even if you didn’t know it, you were meant to bake. I want to give you an opportunity now.

Move in upstairs, run the shop, and enjoy life.

Hell, sell it if you want. Just don’t sell it to some bigshot from the city.

But promise me you’ll try to bring the shop back to life. Don’t let those town gossips weigh you down. If anyone can do it, it’s you.

All my love,

Ginger

P.S. Check under the bed for the recipes – they’re taped to the frame

Wiping a tear from my eye, I can’t let Ginger down. I don’t understand why she thinks I’m the one to run the shop, but she never clued me into her madness. She was always coming up with wild schemes that I questioned until they paid off. Like the time she wanted to bake a peanut butter and jelly cookie, which turned out to be amazing and a best seller for months. It only got taken off the menu after the town moms forced her to remove it because one kid had a peanut allergy.

It’s easier said than done brushing off all the people in this town, but I need to find a solution to reopening. I need to have the same confidence in myself that Ginger did. Right now it’s like the only thing I can do is fail. I need to prove to this town I’m not the failure they assume I am, and make my dad roll over in his grave.

I glance over at the clock and see it’s getting late. I don’t think any solutions are going to present themselves tonight. Especially not when I haven’t eaten and Thanksgiving is tomorrow. I’m glad I didn’t post any signs with an opening date. The windows will have to stay covered in newspaper for a while longer.

Tossing the letter in the box, I put on my boots and jacket and head out the door. I’m not dealing with this right now. Instead, I’m heading to the bar to get a burger and get drunk, even if it means dealing with the potential crowd of old high school classmates home for the holiday.