“Now.”
I took a bite and chewed without tasting it.“Happy?”
“Moderately.”
The doorbell jingled, and my heart leapt for a second, hoping it was Saint.
But it wasn’t him.
Calm it down, Belle.You saw the man today already.
It was a woman in her late fifties, bundled in a green coat with a scarf wrapped tight around her neck.Her eyes lit up as she took in the bakery.
“Oh my goodness,” she said.“This is even better than the pictures.”
I smiled genuinely.“Welcome to Cookie Haven.”
“I’m Mary,” she said.“My son is picking up my gingerbread house tomorrow, but I wanted to see the place.”
Something about her felt familiar.Warm.Comfortable.
“You must be Saint’s mom,” I said before I could stop myself.
Her smile widened.“I am.You know my Saint?”
Heat rushed to my cheeks.“Uh, well, your son is pretty memorable.”That was the safest way I could say that he was hot as hell, and I would have had to be blind not to remember him.
She gave a light laugh.“I’ve said the same thing since he was born.Something about my boy just stays with you.”
That was the truth.“Did you want to take a peek at your house?”
She shook her head.“No, no.I didn’t come to ruin the surprise.I’ve just always wanted to come in here during the holidays to see all of the magic you make.Not to say you don’t make it magical in here during the rest of the months of the year.”
My cheeks heated.“I know what you mean.Christmas is my favorite time here, too.”
She wandered the shop, admiring everything with genuine delight.She knelt to pet Salt and Pepper and laughed when Pepper tried to climb into her lap like a lapdog despite being very much not that size.
“You’ve built something special here,” she said quietly when she came back to the counter.
I shrugged, suddenly shy.“I just like to bake.”
“No,” she said gently.“You create.There’s a difference.”
Her kindness hit harder than I expected.“Um, how about a gingerbread man for the road?”I offered.
Mary shook her head.“I’m going to need more than a gingerbread man.”She moved in front of the bakery case with all of the goodies we had left on display.“You fill this case every day?”she asked.
I nodded.“Yup.I’m here every morning at five to get the ovens going and the doughs made.Owen, Marcy, and Jessa help me throughout the day.”
“Very impressive,” she muttered.“I think I know what I want.”She looked at me expectantly.“You better get a big box ready.”
I laughed and grabbed a quarter sheet box.“I’m ready.”
“Twelve gingerbread men.Twelve sugar cookies.Six plum tarts.Twelve—”
“Oh, wait,” I laughed.I didn’t even have the gingerbread men in the box and I knew I needed to get another box.“Owen,” I called.“Can you help me?”
Owen wiped his hands on his apron and came to help me.“I’ll get the gingerbread men and the sugar cookies,” he offered as he grabbed another box.
