“Dane told my mom and grandma,” I tell them. “Mom had just listened to a podcast about him. And speaking of secrets ... I got a fascinating text message from Ben this morning.”
Esme smiles. “We were young and idealistic, more in love with the idea of doing what you just did than we were into each other for real. I’m glad he found someone who makes him happy.”
“I’m glad you both did. And that you did all the heavy lifting to help solve the mystery of why our families fought in the first place.”
Winona slides into our group. “Amanda. Have a minute?”
I nod and excuse myself from Pia and Esme and Mrs. Briggs. “What’s up?” I ask Winona as she leads me into the gazebo.
“I have a confession.”
Two weeks ago, I would’ve been frothing at the mouth with excitement over the idea of one more confession in a string of tumbling truths.
Right now, though, I’m bracing myself. “Yes?”
“I might have latent talents related to guilt and manipulation.”
What would Dane say to that? I open my mouth, then slowly close it again.
Winona grins. “That’s code forI convinced your grandmother to give me her gingerbread recipe in the name of the town records.”
My mouth opens again, and this time, I hear myself making an inhuman choking sound.
There’s no way Grandma gave up the original recipe.
Zero.
Chance.
None.
Winona smirks. “She gave me the recipeandthe gingerbread candles that she says have been used in family rituals for generations.”
I squeak.
“I think what you did this past week made a huge impact on her.” Winona squeezes my arm. “What you did this past week made a huge impact on all of us. Mrs. Briggs is donating the dress you were going to wear to the historical society, and Dane gave me the ring before he left too. We’re putting together a display at city hall to commemorate the end of the feud. With the letters and the recipe too. The handwriting matches, by the way. You were correct. The gingerbread recipe was to be Dane’s great-great-grandmother’s dowry. It washergrandmother’s recipe, only written down one time before the poor thing succumbed to a fever and passed away.”
My eyes water.
I’m so tired of being a Weepy McWeepy-Face.
But I’m also so glad that it worked.
That Dane and I accomplished the impossible. And in a week, no less.
“Do you think they’ll stay at peace?” I ask Winona.
“They’ll have to,” Lorelei says as she joins us inside the gazebo. “Your mom just asked me if I’d be interested in joining the bakery staff.”
I look at my hometown BFF, take in the implications of what she’s just said, and burst into full sobs.
“Oh my god, don’t cry.” Lorelei smothers me in a hug. “I’ll tell her no if you changed your mind and you want it instead! Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”
“Just—so—happy,” I sob.
She pats my back and keeps hugging me. “I’ve ... never seen you ... happy ... like this.”
“So happy,” I insist.
