“She sounds wonderful…” Her voice broke, and she swallowed at a sudden tightness in her throat. “Like the very best kind of mother.”
His eyes flickered with warmth. “I hope I can be half the single parent Germaine was.”
The words hit Gracie hard. “What happened to her?” she asked, as gently as possible.
“Heart.” He exhaled. “We’d moved her close to us, and I thought we had more time.”
“I’m sorry.” The words were a small thing to offer next to a three-year absence, but it was sincere. “My dad died six years ago, and I miss him every day.”
“Big loss for you,” he said. “And Benny, though he talks about…Red? Your grandfather, I guess.”
She nodded. “Red is his great-grandfather and the strongest male figure in his life.”
He was quiet for a moment, then shifted on his feet and gestured to the pan. “It’s bubbling.”
She looked down at the boiling sugar and syrup, then checked her watch as she pulled it off the heat. “We’re good. Eight more minutes, then we have to work fast. Spun sugar gets tricky.”
They watched the mix for a second, then she asked, “Did you bake when you played football?”
“I kept baking the whole time I was in the NFL,” he said, chuckling. “I had a reputation as the guy who fed people and prayed with them if they wanted it.”
For some reason, that painted the most beautiful image in her head—this big strong man bringing pie and prayers to the locker room. “Nothing wrong with strong faith,” she mused.
“That’s part of who I am,” he said simply. “In fact, when I retired from the NFL, I considered going to Divinity School.”
She drew back, definitely surprised by this. “PastorMarshall?”
“Come on, now,” he joked. “It’s believable. I did officiate a wedding last summer.”
“You did?”
He nodded, proud. “One of my offensive coaches for the Steelers wanted to get married out here in Park City, and his fiancée liked the way I talked about commitment, so…they asked me. I was so honored,” he added with a smile. “I took the online course to get certified and licensed in Utah, met with the pastor at my church, and I married them way up on a cliff in Alta last July. It was incredible.”
“It sounds like it,” she said, slipping a spoon into the sugar to test the consistency. “Well, Pastor, are you ready to make a spun-sugar bridge?”
“That’s it? We ready to spin?”
“Yep. Let’s build a bridge.” She led him back to the table, where they prepared the parchment surface.
The kids came over with their chocolate-covered strawberries to watch. As they started, Olivia disappeared for a bit back to the front while Gracie showed them all how to spin and pull.
As the sugar hardened, Benny and Marshall sketched out a bridge and she started to lift and drag the sugar threads, carefully turning to shape them.
She let the sticky strands drift from her special whisk, each one catching the pendant light before settling in a glistening arc that bridged the gap between their storefronts.
“There’s no way that’s going to be a bridge,” Marshall said, mesmerized by the process.
“It’ll take some time,” she whispered, giving the sugar her full attention. “And it does seem impossible at first. But you’ll see.”
Across from her, Marshall watched with open appreciation, giving her a jolt of satisfaction.
“You make that look easy,” he said. “So graceful and artistic.”
And…there was the blush. But it didn’t burn or make her want to hide her face. In fact, she didn’t even look down as she felt her pulse quicken.
Not because of a girlish crush, though. This time, what she felt was…deeper than that. Attraction? Yes. But even more.
Admiration. Respect. And something that made her whole body ache in a way she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
