The Christmas Crush

Chapter 40

CHAPTER FORTY

Half infuriated, half intrigued by Lawrence’s unbroken radio silence, Elena toyed with the idea of finding him after her grand-opening shift. As hours, then whole days, passed without contact, she wondered if she’d mistaken his interest level, his ability to overcome an unfortunate disagreement. Perhaps he didn’t think her worth the effort, had opted to dip out when the going got tough. Childish. Forget him, then.

Eventually, however, she became downright worried. Surely he wouldn’t ghost her after weeks and weeks together, forget her despite their electric connection? Unless he had become an actual ghost. Had a terrible fate befallen him that prevented a return call? Her mind painted vivid, frightening pictures. Lawrence’s truck flipped over on an icy back road, the choking smoke of a raging bakery fire, violent kidnappers who somehow overpowered him despite his superior strength.

She recognized such dramatic visions were unlikely, but perhaps a more ordinary peril had intervened. For all she knew, something dire had occurred with Nana. Conceited on her part to assume nothing short of tragedy would keep Lawrence from returning her call. But empowered by her recent foray into honest conversations, she guessed it couldn’t hurt to see him face-to-face to offer a respectful explanation of her actions that terrible day.

Except everything about returning to New Hope hurt. The exit sign on the highway seemed like a memorial marker. The snow on the roadside had turned mud-stained since she’d last driven through. Sky overcast. Sidewalks hadn’t been cleared, and stamped-down ice patches ran in uneven paths. In the full daylight, no one turned on their holiday lights, of course, making houses and businesses seem pointlessly wrapped in ugly wires. Deflated Santas lay prone on front lawns, hollow until nightfall. Dismal to the core.

Getting to stay on the new side of town offered a shred of relief. She couldn’t face driving down Main Street yet, seeing the bakery. Dipping her toes in might prepare her for a nighttime visit. Meanwhile, she’d have to hope to stay busy.

She went through the employee entrance into the New Hope Sparkle Cookie. Instantly, the smell of gingerbread latte cookies hit her, heavy enough in the air she could almost taste them. That scent pulled her into the past, brought her back to making them the first time with Lawrence in her kitchen. The night the snowstorm let her keep him, to the day they made the cookies with Nana and Elena got a glimpse of what it would be like to be part of his life for real. To know his family. The ingredients written in his hand, stolen by Derick.

She shook her head, couldn’t allow herself to dwell.

“Hello, I’m Elena Voss from corporate, here to oversee the opening,” she told the manager, a man about her age wearing the required lavender polo shirt and dark-gray slacks. “Are you excited for the big day?”

“Kenneth Scultz,” he said, offering his hand to shake. When she took it, she caught interest in his eyes, in the curve of his mouth. Seeing someone look at her the way Lawrence first had made her miss him all the more. She gave a firm handshake, then got right to business, giving Kenneth a hint she wanted to keep it professional.

She put him to work rearranging tables, then went to the kitchen to introduce herself to the bakers. Since Sparkle cookies came from a mix, most of the kitchen staff were high school students. A girl with wide-set blue eyes seemed impressed by Elena’s title, too shy to say much, while a boy baker cracked a few jokes. Getting to work was helping; the ache in her stomach and the racing thoughts of earlier disappeared.

Back out front, she checked to see a growing line waiting for the store’s opening in thirty minutes. Not as many people as she needed to earn her bonus, the cushion she wanted while looking for new work. Had word gotten around about her poor treatment of Lawrence? It seemed unlikely he would all out sabotage her work, but maybe people knew they’d fought and figured they didn’t need to attend the opening anymore.

A sudden possibility thrilled her. Would he show up? Might he make a kind gesture, forgive her even when she didn’t deserve it, hadn’t said sorry? Hope batted in her chest. “Time to open the doors, Elle,” Kenneth, the manager, said.

She bristled at the unwelcome nickname. If she’d been more compassionate when Lawrence called, she might be able to name-drop her boyfriend, get the point across clearly. What could she say now? I have a situationship I ruined because I don’t have a clue how to be assertive and not downright aggressive ?

Be assertive, not aggressive. Not her dad’s voice this time, but her own. In her heart, she knew she did have a clue. After all, hadn’t she spoken up to her family without resorting to barbed words and scare tactics? “Please call me Elena,” she said.

“My bad,” Kenneth answered. There, she’d done well. She could find a compromise between her dad’s values and her own. Kenneth seemed none the worse for wear, and he switched to a businesslike demeanor, giving her space and sticking to opening-day issues.

Even if Lawrence didn’t accept her apology tonight, she vowed to remain respectful to him. She wouldn’t let disappointment or anger overwhelm her this time. She suspected she would feel better about herself if she stayed truer to herself, to the gentler, artistic side. If she found the balance between not getting walked on and not walking on anyone else.

Maybe all I’ll have to show for this is a better sense of self, but please, let me have him too.

Time to let the influencers in the back door after they pretended to wait in line, so they could take their pictures without crowds messing up shots. A woman wearing a blinding amount of highlighter posed kissing the gingerbread latte cookie. In another corner, a mommy influencer fed some to her daughters in matching cranberry-red velvet dresses and hair bows, who screamed and kicked because they didn’t want to be there.

Same, girls. Same.

A third influencer took a bite for the camera, then promptly spit it out into a napkin.

I can’t wait to leave this place behind.

Elena’s phone rang. Derick. Perfect; she couldn’t wait for his reaction to the letter sent by her dad and brothers on Voss, Voss I have to produce. When I saw your recipe, I figured I could get the jump on it for us both.” His words flooded out, his pitch high, almost squeaky.

“My lawyer is confident we can prove wrongdoing. We have witnesses who can testify to the recipe development predating your supposed invention of gingerbread latte cookies.” Nana and Carm were the witnesses; she also had a text from Lawrence asking her if she knew where he’d left the recipe. At the time, she hadn’t, and he’d had to rewrite it. Dad doubted this strategy could hold up in court, but he was also sure Sparkle Cookie wouldn’t want the bad press of a scandal. They’d settle.

“You’re asking for commission on every unit sold in addition to your bonus? I have to go upstairs to explain all this, and I need you to make it make sense.”

“Derick, in all honestly, it should make perfect sense to you. You know that you use bullying and shaming to make us work harder so you can take the credit. You know in your heart you stole that recipe from me, didn’t even attempt to acknowledge my contributions in the quarterly meeting.”

“But … but … Voss, we’re a team,” he spluttered.

Elena bit her tongue to keep from all out laughing at him. “We were never a team, Derick. That would imply you valued any one of us. You only care about yourself. I hope you’ve updated your r é sum é . Now I need to focus on this grand opening. Happy holidays. Bye!”

Her mouth widened into a full smile, her heartbeat fast with excitement. Derick would get his just desserts, and she would find a different job. She had a lot to offer a company, and if this opening went well, she could put it on her own r é sum é .

Nervous energy jittering in her veins, she left the kitchen to find a stream of people gushing in the front doors. The most she’d ever seen at an opening. She rose on her tiptoes, looked out the front windows. The line stretched forever, people in thick jackets and scarves, chatting and taking pictures. There was Mr. Martinez the bookseller, Pamela the florist holding what looked like a bouquet wrapped in butcher paper. Even Carm and her daughter with a trio of little kids who jumped about, throwing snow clumps.

Tears, happy tears, on her cheeks. He hadn’t told everyone to stay away; he hadn’t stood in the way of her success. Did he possibly still support her, want to see her win? Her eyes flew from face to face, hoping to spot the one she wanted most. Nowhere in sight. Trey and Iris held hands, joined the line. His best friend, but where—where—was he?

“Elena,” Pamela said when she stepped out of the cold into the store. “These are for you.”

“Thank you, Pamela. How thoughtful.” Should she ask Pamela if Lawrence planned to come? If she’d seen him, or how Nana was doing?

“They’re not from me, hon.” Pamela handed her the flowers.

Adrenaline fizzed like champagne inside her. She forgot to say another word to Pamela, or even to say hello to other people from New Hope she recognized. She had to get alone as fast as possible to tear off the paper, to see what he’d sent. Skidding on her high heels through the kitchen, she rounded the corners at a fast clip until she made it to the back office. Thankfully, Kenneth was out front assisting customers.

Hands shaking so intensely she feared dropping the bouquet, she set in on the manager’s desk. The paper crinkled as she tore it away. Not flowers, but cookies! The most beautiful cookies in the world. Paintbrushes, cr è me br ? l é e, a little open book with miniscule words in icing: You have bewitched me body and soul . Pride and Prejudice , the book they’d looked at on their first date. A glove, like the one she’d left in the town hall, the one he’d run after her to return. A square with exact portraits of Lorelei and Rory Gilmore, a frame around them like they were inside a TV.

She extended a shy finger, gently touched a large square cookie covered in writing. Not another book quote. A long explanation, and a plea for forgiveness.

First of all, I broke my phone like a fool. If you’ve tried to call, I haven’t been ignoring you. Nana is feeling better and I’ve come to my senses. I should never, never have thought the worst of you when you’ve shown me many times how much better you are than that. I can’t forgive myself, but maybe you can find it in that sweet, kind heart of yours to cut me a break. I suck and I’m sorry. I can do better, much better. I hope you have the best grand opening. If you can still—

Here an icing arrow indicated she should turn over the cookie for the rest of the message. She plucked the cookie out by its cardboard stem, twirled it to see the other side.

—stand the sight of me, please meet me tonight at the gazebo by town hall at nine o’clock and we can work things out. Yours, Lawrence

She put her face in her hands, crying and laughing at the same time. Who cared about crying at work in a moment like this? The best moment, maybe ever, in her whole life up to now. Gulping in a breath, she dried her face on her lavender sleeves.

She put the apology cookie back in the bouquet, traded it for a decorated rose cookie that shimmered with fine glitter. Elaborate and as artistic as anything she could paint. And it smelled delicious, buttery and sweet. She took a big bite.

He’d been right all along. She could taste love.