“I’m going to come in this week and try a few new cookie recipes.”
“Mom.” Bev sat at her feet. “No, you’re not. We have enough cookies, and Fred does a fine job baking your recipes. You need to concentrate on getting better.”
I felt like a peeping Tom in the doorway, watching someone else’s life, smiling at their bickering and desperately wanting all that for myself.
“I need to get out of here, do something else other than lie around like a corpse. I’m not dead yet. Right, Emerson?” Sheila looked toward me.
“Um ...”
“You don’t have to answer that,” Bev said, rescuing me. “She’s worried about the bakery ... worries it’s going to fall apart.”
Sheila shook her head. “This is New York, Bev, you know that. A new place could open up two doors away, and we’d be crushed. We need to spark some new reviews and interest with different recipes.”
Walking toward the bed, I found my words with a certain courage I didn’t know I had. “I was just telling Bev I could help at the bakery, and I love to cook. I could try baking. Why don’t I come in and help with the new recipes?”
“See!” Sheila sat taller and eyed Bev. “And fresh faces, like Emerson.”
“Of course you two gang up on me.” Bev said it with a giggle, and she didn’t seem mad.
“Look at this one,” Sheila said as I sat down next to Bev. I wasn’t sure whether it was appropriate or not, but it felt good, like being part of a family.
“Boyfriend cookies,” Bev read. “Hmm, do they come with a guy?”
“Mmm, they look good, with or without a dude,” I said, peeking over her shoulder.
“That’s because you found yourself a dude within minutes of being here.” Bev elbowed me while talking.
“I didn’t find anyone,” I said quickly, but my heart disagreed.
Bev scoffed. “Oh, please. I’ve seen you chatting and texting with Price on the phone, and I could feel the heat rolling off you.”
Shelia tore her gaze away from her cookbook. “Who?”
“Price. Some guy Emerson met and then coincidently ran into again, and now it’s a thing.”
“Oh,” Sheila said absently, staring back at the cookbook, but I could tell her mind wandered.
“You okay, Mom?” Bev asked, looking concerned.
“I’m fine, baby. I was just going through some ways in my mind ... how we could personalize these boyfriend cookies. Make them unique to us. I was thinking of caramel chips.”
“What if you added some liquor?” I asked, ever the bartender. “You could do a happy-hour collection.
Sheila’s face brightened. “I hadn’t thought of that, but it’s great. We could do a whole line of cookies with liquors and serve them in the evenings.”
“First, let’s make the boyfriend cookie. Then we can start boozing it up,” Bev said.
“Yes, Mother, dear. Whatever you say,” Sheila joked back.
“I saw Bev dance today,” I said, feeling like it was time to shift the focus to her. “Wow, I was blown away.”
Sheila beamed. “She’s pretty good, right?”
I nodded. “Incredible. I don’t how she moves like that. I’d be in the hospital with a broken ankle.”
“She’s been full of grace since day one. I keep telling her to let me hire someone at the bakery, so she can go full time to school.”
“Mom, enough.” Bev shook her head, and some of her hair fell loose from her bun and shielded her face.
