The Christmas Crush

Chapter 43

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

A nervous Elena might be the cutest version of Elena. Endearing, if a bit strange, to see her facade drop. She kept combing her fingers through her long, dark hair until he took her hand to encourage her to relax. It was weird to be on the other side of social anxiety, in a place where he felt totally comfortable. How could he ensure she had a good time?

“Are you sure I can’t help in the kitchen?” Elena asked, perched next to him on the sofa. Mom bustled past in her wreath print apron, paused, a casserole dish containing macaroni and cheese in her oven-mitted hands. Through the kitchen doorway he saw Nana sitting on a barstool at the stove, stirring one handed since she refused to let anyone else near the gravy. Nana’s other arm was in a sling that made him blue each time he saw it.

“No, no, dear. Lonnie and I made most of the dishes last night.” Mom had her ways when it came to hosting guests, and Lawrence knew nothing could induce her to accept Elena’s assistance. Maybe in time. “And you two brought dessert. Just a few finishing touches left, and then we can eat. You enjoy your punch.”

Mom hurried toward the dining room, and Elena tensed beside him.

He rubbed the back of her neck. She sighed like she’d been holding her breath, then seemed to regret sighing and covered it with a fake cough. “Be careful with the punch,” he whispered. “Nana spikes it like crazy every year.”

Elena’s eyes widened, and she carefully set her glass on a coaster atop a round end table that still bore the floral skirted tablecloth his mother had bought on sale in 1993.

“Elena, I love your sweater,” Lonnie said, stretching out on the love seat across from them. He and Lonnie might troll each other—as siblings must—but he could hug her right now for making an effort with Elena. No introvert could deny the value of someone who initiated conversation. Elena might be far from an introvert, but she clearly needed a lifeline today.

Lonnie’s boyfriend had been conscripted by Dad to help find the dining room table leaf in the attic. Lawrence could hear the creaking all the way down here. He expected one or both of them to fall through the ceiling at any moment. Usually, Dad made Lawrence help set up the table, but everyone was treating him like a VIP today because of his special guest.

“Thank you,” Elena said to his sister.

“Where’d you get it?”

“Um …” Elena shook her head slightly, like she needed to clear her thoughts. “It’s actually from this boutique by my apartment. They make garments from salvaged fabrics. To be sustainable.”

“I love that. I’ll have to check it out the next time I’m in the city.” Lonnie had the Higgins bright-blue eyes, and they shifted to Lawrence to make sure he noticed what a thoughtful sister she was being. He nodded to keep her talking.

“Sugar seems to have taken quite the liking to you,” Lonnie said, indicating the dog, who hadn’t left Elena’s side. Sugar must’ve sensed Elena’s need for an emotional support animal. A lifetime of soothing Lawrence’s jitters had honed the dog’s skills. “Do you have pets?”

“We weren’t allowed to have them growing up, because my mom worried about fur on clothes and furniture. I love animals, though, and always wanted a cat.”

Lawrence got a pang of sadness at the thought of Elena’s pet-free childhood. “You like cats?” he asked, and her chin dipped in a nod. There was no shortage of kittens needing homes in the New Hope spring thanks to all the barn cats. A seed of a plan began to take root in his mind. He envisioned the look on Elena’s face if he handed her a kitten. Or a whole basket of kittens.

“You have to meet Chuckles,” Lonnie said, snapping her fingers. “I’ll be right back.” She left to search for their parents’ ancient tortoiseshell cat.

“Doing okay?” Lawrence said softly.

“Everyone is so nice.” She looked at him with astonished eyes, as if she’d been expecting the opposite. Again, he felt that tug in his heart, this time wishing she’d never be treated with indifference again. She wouldn’t be if he could help it.

Earlier he’d wondered what she would think of his childhood home, a well-kept but aged farmhouse, no neighbors for a mile. From everything she’d told him about her childhood, she was used to the finer things. He thought the Higgins family home one of New Hope’s prettiest, but he knew it was humble. The floral wallpaper here in the living room bore traces of mistreatment from when he and Lonnie were little. Crayon that never quite came off, nicks where they’d tossed toys. The wood floors had been scratched by various family pets.

He followed Elena’s gaze as her eyes fell on one of Mom’s doilies. Mom had a serious doily addiction; they were under every lamp, every dish displayed in the china cabinet—she even had a long one under the TV. Used to drive him nuts when he was a kid because he always got in trouble for spilling juice on them. They did make the place look homey. Elena kept looking around the room, asking him in quiet tones about this and that, interested in the artifacts of his life. Just as he liked seeing New Hope through her eyes, he realized he liked seeing his family home reflected in them as well.

Her hand felt cool in his, and he brought it to his lips to warm with a kiss, thinking how she loved holiday decorations. “Look behind you.”

Elena turned to see the sofa table, which held a porcelain Christmas village atop a thick layer of fake snow. LED tealights flickered in miniature shops, homes, and Santa’s workshop. She brightened, eyes lighting up to match the festive display. She dropped his hand to run a fingertip over the rooftops.

“Don’t look too closely at the bed-and-breakfast. I cracked off the chimney when I was seven, and we had to glue it back on.” Poor Mom; she’d really put up with a lot over the years.

“The bakery is my favorite.” Elena pointed to the little red brick building, a fair dupe for Sweet L’s.

“Mom found that the year I opened.” Should he tell Elena the peril the bakery faced? Would that automatically make her feel guilty because he couldn’t enter the contest? Because Sparkle Cookie had jacked up rents? He intended to give this relationship his best—last night he’d made sure she knew he wanted to be exclusive. She wanted the same. Did that mean he had to find a way to tell her about the rent increase? His natural instinct told him not to mention a word. That felt like keeping her at arm’s length, though. And she had just started to chill; he couldn’t distress her now. He didn’t fear they’d have another argument, but he didn’t want to put a damper on her day.

Mom called everyone to the table, and he forgot about the bakery as he enjoyed Elena’s reaction to the food. She hit her stride asking questions about the different dishes, delighting Nana and Mom as they boasted about their recipes for green bean casserole and corn muffins. Even Dad had something to say, telling Elena how he himself had concocted the turkey brine. It was the only thing Dad could cook besides peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Who could blame him for wanting to show off?

Elena oohed and aahed over the Christmas tree plates and matching napkins Mom had collected over several years. He suspected she’d never had a real family Christmas in her life. What did the Vosses do on holidays? Say bah-humbug and go their separate ways the first chance they got? Grim.

An hour or so after dinner, everyone began to agitate for dessert while playing Uno. “Okay, okay. I’ll get it,” he said.

Lonnie glared when he held out a hand to Elena. “You’re not taking her away, are you? I wanted to tell her about the time you and Trey put dish soap—”

“Let me stop you there,” he said, before Lonnie could shame him with his preteen indiscretions. Happy Elena and his sister were having fun, he nonetheless wanted to keep her for himself. He stole her away to the kitchen.

“Yay, more coffee!” Elena said. He refilled her Christmas tree mug, then looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching. He stole a long kiss. How wonderful to have her here, to see her happy. This was the kind of moment he’d feared was lost forever after their fight.

“I’m going to set the cheesecake out to come up to room temperature, and we’re going to make some cherry sauce to put on top.”

“Anything you say, chef,” she whispered for his ears only, wrapping her arms around him from behind. He gripped the refrigerator handle.

“Or we can go back to my place right this minute, and they can get their own dessert.”

“And miss the cheesecake? You are delicious, but you’re no cheesecake.”

“How can you be so fickle?” He took the plastic-wrapped cheesecake and set it on the counter, checked again for privacy. He grabbed her and whispered, “Lay off the flirting, then, troublemaker, or no dessert for you.”

He lived for the way she curled against him, giggling. “Only till we leave. Then I’m going right back to it.”

“I consider that a promise. I’ll hold you to it.” The burner clicked, then the flame burst on. “This cherry sauce is to die for, sweetie. Although I would still choose you over it, it’s a close second. Can you get the bag of cherries from the freezer while I juice the lemon? Those cherries come from an orchard in New Hope, by the way, so you know they’re the best. Only the best for you.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

He spun back to the stove, furiously whisked sugar and cornstarch into the lemon juice and water.

“Add the cherries slowly,” he instructed. “Don’t want hot water to splatter you.”

“The whole bag?”

“Believe me, people are going to want to eat this by itself. It’s best if we have extra.” As the fruit began to warm and soften, sweet, tart cherry scent overtook the kitchen.

“It smells sensational. Look at that color. Like garnets. I think this sauce would go well with my second-favorite flavor.”

“Well, I know coffee is your first favorite. What’s the second?”

“Chocolate, of course.”

“Ah yes, of course. You’re right, chocolate and cherry go together like … like Lawrence and Elena.”

At the same moment, they looked into each other’s eyes over the simmering pot. His words stuck in his throat; he couldn’t quite think straight when she looked at him like that. But was she thinking what he was thinking? Would she be willing? Was it too tender a subject to suggest? No. He pushed past his reservations with almost physical force, heart speeding up, as he resolved to be up front with her.

“The contest,” he began. She lowered her eyes. “We said we’d give each other the benefit of the doubt going forward—please believe me, I’m not bringing it up to make you feel guilty, or that I still blame you for what happened with the gingerbread latte recipe.

“The truth is—the whole truth I haven’t told anyone else, not even Nana, or Trey—the bakery needs a cash infusion. Rents are rising—”

“That’s Sparkle’s fault,” she said, still not looking at him, her tone hard to decipher. He heard her swallow hard. He put his hand on the small of her back, on the downy sweater. Hoping he could transmit through touch how much he wanted her to know none of this was her fault, he gave her a second to absorb his words.

“Rent is part of it, and Sparkle isn’t the only new business interested in this area. Rents are going to increase, and not all because of one chain bakery. That’s the reality. The one I didn’t want to face.”

The sauce began bubbling out of control, threatening to rise out of the pan, create a huge mess. He twisted the knob, lowered the flame, and stirred off some steam.

“And Carm told me she’s going to have to retire soon.”

“Oh no,” Elena said, eyes flashing back up.

“I know. It’s been a while coming. Don’t know what I’ll do without her. Anyway, I need to make sure the bakery is doing well financially so I can attract a replacement employee.”

“Wow. That sheds new light on why you were angry the other day. I’d be stressing out too.”

“It’s an explanation, not an excuse. I had no right to take it out on you, especially when you had no idea how serious the stakes are. But please, can we not go over it again?” This was going off the rails; he wasn’t making his point right, it was upsetting her, he—

“Go on,” she said. She kissed his cheek, slowed his swirling thoughts.

“More than anything, I want to be able to …” He looked at the doorway yet again, not to sneak a kiss but to make a confession. He lowered his voice. “To be able to pay Nana back her investment in the bakery.”

Elena hooked her arm around his neck, kissed his cheek a second time. “You are the absolute sweetest. Do you think we can do it? Create a new cookie in a few hours? The deadline to submit the recipe to their email is midnight.”

He looked at the stove clock. They would leave here in a few hours. He had more frozen cherries at home, and plenty of cocoa powder. “I think we deserve a second chance. I want to give it my all.”

“Do you even need me? You’re the brilliant baker.”

He put his hands on her hips, moved her to face him. “Elena, I need you. More than anything.”

Then he kissed her, deep and sweet, without reservation, forgetting anyone else existed.