Donna blinked in surprise. She was used to people gossiping behind her back, but never about anything good. “It’s nice to meet you as well. And please, call me Donna.”
“Donna, got it.” Olivia smiled again and sipped her latte while Cassie reacquainted her with the rest of the women.
Dolores, who’d ordered the peppermint tea, looked familiar, and not simply because she bore a shocking resemblance to Mrs. Claus. Donna recalled briefly meeting her during one of her previous visits last year. And, if she wasn’t mistaken, her husband had been her high school principal.
Donna recognized the elegant woman with silver hair twisted into a loose chignon from the library. As a child, when she’d go there to study, Beverly regularly offered her a new book recommendation. Of course, Donna never read any of them, preferring to spend her free time outside climbing trees or fishing with her dad, but she never forgot how the kind, persistent woman kept trying. Even after Donna became the pregnant teen pariah and everyone else had given up on her altogether.
“And Maggie,” Cassie said, interrupting her thoughts, “you have the decaf cinnamon mochaccino.”
“Thank you, dear.” Offering Donna a warm smile, Maggie asked, “Won’t you join us? I’m sure Ryder can help the next few customers.”
Donna glanced over her shoulder, catching Ryder midbite as he shoved an entire red velvet cupcake into his mouth. “Thanks, but I should probably keep an eye on him before we don’t have anything left to sell.” As she returned behind the counter, she couldn’t shake a tiny pang of guilt for rebuffing Maggie’s invitation. The woman had never been anything but gracious and kind, extending her every opportunity to be friends. Why couldn’t she accept her offer? After all, they weren’t merely in-laws anymore. They were co-grandmothers. She couldn’t avoid her forever.
The bell above the entrance chimed, and the second Frida Connelly strode through the front door, Donna was relieved she hadn’t joined them. The older woman’s cold gaze zeroed in on her like a laser pointer, turning her perpetually sour expression into an even deeper scowl.
Donna turned away, busying herself with the stack of napkins by the register. Frida had never been her biggest fan, and she didn’t need another reason to question her self-worth. She was still trying to claw her way back from rock bottom.
“There’s our lovely chairwoman.” Cassie greeted Frida with her trademark unconditional kindness. “What would you like to drink before we get started?”
“I only drink water,” Frida said stiffly. “Anything else is merely a gateway to the devil’s brew.” She shot Donna a pointed glare before taking her seat at the head of the table.
“One water coming right up.” Grateful for an excuse to escape, Donna slipped into the kitchen. Although they had a self-serve jug of ice water on the counter, she had a feeling the persnickety woman would insist on being served.
In all her years waiting tables, she’d only been tempted to spit in someone’s beverage once, when a handsy hedge fund manager had slapped her backside in front of his leering colleagues. He’d had the audacity to quip, “They sure don’t make ’em like they used to, do they, boys?” before belting out an abrasive laugh. Although appalled, she’d refrained from tampering with his order, albeitbarely.
While Frida Connelly might not be a boorish womanizer begging for a sexual harassment lawsuit, she didn’t endear herself to many people, either. As the town gossip, judge, and jury, she delighted in doling out her disapproval. And over the years, Donna had received more than her fair share.
“Is Frida here?” Eliza asked as she poured pink batter into a scalloped-edged cupcake liner.
“How did you know?”
“The look of terror on your face is a dead giveaway.” Eliza grinned.
Donna grabbed a freshly washed glass from the drying rack and filled it with filtered water. “You’re lucky you can hide in here.”
“You’re welcome to join me. I’m almost done with the strawberry cream cupcakes, but I still have to make the blue raspberry ones.”
“Pink and blue cupcakes. What else would you serve for a pregnancy reveal party?” Donna teased.
“Isn’t it fun?” Eliza beamed. “The whole theme of tonight’s party will be who can guess the news first. I’ve asked Jack to bring baby back ribs from the diner. And I’m also serving baby new potatoes, baby carrots, baby peas, and Babybel cheese.”
“Subtle.” Donna laughed.
“And that’s not all! I asked Reed to bring bouquets of baby’s breath to decorate the tables. And I asked Sadie and Landon to create a special dessert using molecular gastronomy, although I didn’t tell them why.”
“Molecular what?”
“Gastronomy. Don’t worry, I don’t really get what it is, either. Basically, they used some kind of scientific wizardry to transform Baby Ruth candy bars into bite-size balls of fluff that resemble the texture of cotton candy. It’s surprisingly delicious.”
“I wish I could try it.” She’d told Cassie she couldn’t stay for the party since she had her first Poppy Creek recovery meeting that night. While her daughter had expressed disappointment that she wouldn’t attend the gathering, Donna hadn’t missed the look of relief when she’d learned the reason why. Not that she blamed her. Having an alcoholic parent meant constant uncertainty, never knowing if and when they’d fall off the wagon. The unending anxiety was just another one of the many gifts she’d given her daughter over the years.
“I’ll be sure to save some for you. But you’d better bring Frida her water before she calls out the hound dogs,” Eliza warned playfully.
“Good point.” Donna grimaced. “Wish me luck.”
Donna delivered Frida’s water—getting off easy with only a silent sneer—and quickly retreated back to the kitchen to help Eliza prepare for the party, which turned out to be a much larger gathering than she’d expected.
All the women from the meeting stayed afterward, except for Frida, who claimed to have other plans. Donna also recognized Cassie’s brother and sister-in-law, Eliza’s husband, Grant, and Jack and Kat, who immediately came over to say hello. She also met Olivia’s fiancé, Reed, and another young couple who were so smitten, they hadn’t stopped holding hands since they walked inside. She recalled meeting Sadie before—she owned the Sweet Shop—but Landon she knew only by reputation. Poppy Creek seemed like an unusual homebase for a billionaire philanthropist, but she understood his motivation. Love could make a person do crazy things. Like revisit ghosts from the past best left undisturbed.
