Chapter 1
Every time Eliza Carter closed her eyes, she saw his face.
And for the last few months, after glimpsing his shadowy figure engulfed in the commotion of New Year’s Eve revelry, she’d been able to think of little else. Her tumultuous thoughts couldn’t have come at a worse time, with her best friend’s wedding and the grand opening of their joint business venture less than a month away.
In times like these, baking became her only solace. Something about blending the chaos of different ingredients to create a new, tantalizing dessert set Eliza’s world at ease.
She cracked open the oven door, welcoming the blast of heat that lent her full cheeks a rosy tint. The warm steam carried notes of rich dark chocolate, tart raspberries, and a hint of mint, all of which teased a satisfied smile from her lips.
When the idea for the recipe first sprang to mind, Eliza wasn’t sure how the concoction would turn out. But based on the mouthwatering aroma, the chocolate raspberry cupcakes would be a perfect addition to the bakery’s menu. Donning two polka-dot oven mitts, Eliza carefully slid the cupcake pan from the middle rack so she didn’t disturb the plump, delicate domes. She clamped her lips together, convinced a single breath would cause the cupcakes to collapse into themselves, destroying their coveted lighter-than-air texture.
Inching across the hardwood floor, she’d almost reached the cooling rack on the kitchen island when the front door slammed, causing Eliza to lurch forward. The pan sailed from her grasp and clattered against the white tile countertop.
“Hi, Mom! We’re home!” Ben charged into the kitchen with all the boisterous energy befitting his seven years. “Whatcha makin’? Sure smells good!” He dumped his backpack on the island before clambering up the barstool.
Eliza watched the perfect peaks sink slowly. But before she could respond, her mother appeared in the doorway, her disapproving frown contrasting starkly with Ben’s cheerful grin.
“Before you indulge him, he has something to tell you.” Sylvia Carter raised a heavily penciled eyebrow at her grandson.
Ben’s expression deflated along with the cupcakes as he reached inside his backpack. Without quite meeting his mother’s gaze, he handed her a plain white envelope. “Miss Holden asked me to give you this.”
A familiar tightness gripped Eliza’s chest as she ripped open the seal and withdrew the letter. Daphne Holden’s cutesy penmanship filled the page, belying the note’s severity.
Eliza skimmed over the contents, picking out the inauspicious phrases.
Zero retention. Easily distracted. Disinterested. Worrisome lack of progress.
Heat crept up Eliza’s neck, escalating to a full-on boil when she reached Daphne’s recommendation to make Ben repeat second grade, citing the end of the school year in a few weeks as insufficient time to raise his test scores to a satisfactory level.
Anger, humiliation, and guilt wrapped around Eliza’s heart, making it difficult to breathe. She crumpled the note into a ball before tossing it in the trash can beneath the sink.
“That bad?” Sylvia asked, her tone laced with sympathy.
“Certainly not appropriate subject matter for a note,” Eliza mumbled crossly. “She could have at least asked for a parent-teacher meeting.”
Sylvia snorted. “You realize she’s been trying to arrange one for months. But you’ve been so busy with renovations and wedding planning, you kept putting it off.”
Eliza’s guilt wrestled her anger and humiliation to the mat, winning the match. And her trophy would read Worst Mother of the Year. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned to her son.
Ben sat motionless on the stool, staring at his hands clasped in his lap.
Her stomach twisted at the look of shame on his face.
No matter what Daphne Holden said, her son wasn’t the problem. Eliza spent countless hours each night working with Ben on his homework. She’d never noticed any of the issues Daphne mentioned. Clearly, something else was going on. And she would get to the bottom of it.
But for now, Eliza simply wanted to restore Ben’s carefree smile.
Softening her tone, she said, “Why don’t we add some frosting to these cupcakes? Then we’ll take a plate of them to your room and work on your homework together, okay?”
He tilted his chin, bringing his gaze to meet hers. His huge chocolate eyes were so like her own. And his butter-blond hair had the same golden highlights framing his face. To the casual observer, Ben could be Eliza’s Mini-Me.
But try as she might, Eliza couldn’t ignore the evidence of his father—the stubborn cowlick, dark, expressive eyebrows, and smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose.
It was moments like this one that made her heart ache for what she couldn’t have.
Ben’s father never was, and never would be, a part of their lives.
Of that, she was certain.
