I reached over and hugged my best friend, grateful for her stopping and checking on my safety. “I’m so glad you stopped when you did. I don’t know how long we would have survived in there.”
Ella giggled and hugged me back. “Keep telling yourself that, girlfriend. With the sparks being thrown around, and the heated moment I saw, I think you’d have lasteddaysin there.”
“Ella Hart-Goldman!” I laughed in a sudden breathless gush as I pulled back. “Shame on you.”
“I’m not ashamed at all.” Ella waggled her eyebrows. “So? Is there anything to tell? Did you kiss?” She leaned forward, expectation on her face. “How was it? Tell me everything.”
I shook my head. Funny, but I didn’t feel like sharing what happened, not even with her. For some reason, keeping it safe and quiet inside me felt right. “There’s nothing to tell. Now, I need you to leave me in peace while I try to repair what I can.”
She shook her head, firmly and with determination I knew I’d never dissuade. “I’m staying.”
I frowned despite myself. “What? Don’t be silly. It’s late. What will Mark say?”
“Even if it takes all night, I’ll stay and help.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “The two of us can knock this out faster than just you, so I’m in for the long haul. I’ll just call Mark and explain what happened.”
I blinked back the tears that sprang to my eyes. “Thanks, Ella. You’re the best friend ever.”
I’d like to say that we spent the wee hours of the night laughing and singing to the music that was playing in the background, but the real truth was that it was a colossal slog to get everything done. I knew that the sugar flowers would need about eight hours to set, so we worked in an assembly line fashion to do those first so we could set them in front of a fan to dry them as quickly as possible. It was hour upon hour of shaping and coloring and moving the lifelike sugar flowers around, but as I started to see the end results come, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride at how much was getting completed. They were beautiful and almost lifelike, even more so than before, and I just hoped Junie would feel the same way about them.
By four in the morning, we had replaced almost all the sugar flowers that were going to go on the cake, and I had added even more lace frosting ornaments to my existing stash. We were about forty ornaments short, but that couldn’t be helped, because we only had a limited time to get everything done before the late afternoon wedding. Also, I had planned on bringing two hundred sugar cookies as extras to place next to Connor’s fancy candy, but I was only able to complete about a hundred and forty. Even with Ella’s help, there was no way I was going to hit my goal.
I tried not to think about that too much, because I needed the next three hours to frost the wedding cake layers perfectly and to start assembling. Yawning, I shook myself a bit as I picked up the frosting spatula.
“See,” Ella said as she plunked down my fourth mocha in front of me, “this is why wemustkeep the coffee station. We’d die without it.”
She wasn’t wrong, and though it seemed like a small thing to worry about in the face of what I’d just endured, I now intended fully to keep it.
Connor MacDowell and his competition and the warmth of his broad chest ornot.
22
It was Valentine’s Day, and the long-awaited Blair-Fitzpatrick wedding was taking place in the Christmas chapel next to the town’s main square, and it seemed like half the town would be attending. The weather, so often unpredictable this time of year, had dropped just over an inch of fresh snow on Jingle Junction, as if decorating the town in bridal white. Next to the chapel, the park’s large gazebo was lit up, beautiful and bright, and so was the towering Christmas tree, covered top to bottom in sparkling red and pink hearts. The glow could be seen from every window in the church and the attached reception hall.
Even the annual Valentine’s Day parade was beautiful, if a bit quirky this year. I watched the marching band and the floats go by from the warmth of the bakery’s front room, enjoying the spectacle along with several other people who knew my plate glass window would be a great viewing area. When the last float trundled by, a flatbed trailer pulled by Max on his tractor and decorated with crepe paper and dozens of pink and white balloons, I couldn’t help but laugh. Apparently, my sister Joy hadn’t had the best of luck in finding an appropriate Cupid, so she’d conscripted my stepbrother, Nick. I had no idea what shemust’ve promised him, or how she threatened him, to get him to wear skin-colored long underwear with little wings and fake diaper pinned over the top. He was carrying a plastic bow and arrow and tossing wrapped candies along the way.
Sitting at the back of the float was Deke, bundled up in a thick coat and wool hat, flinging candy with one hand while he kept a tight grip on Cupcake’s leash with the other. Poor, long-suffering Cupcake. Someone had decided to put a headdress on the patient doggie, with antenna-type springs topped with sequined red hearts swaying above his ears. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind.
With just hours to go before Junie was set to walk down the aisle, I set the last of the sugar flowers on the wedding cake and stepped back to survey the final results. Doing my best to swallow back the lump that clogged my throat, I told myself I did the best I could with what I had. I’d tried to space the sugar flowers out around the edges far enough apart to mask the missing pieces, yet not too far apart so anyone would notice.
Social media hopes and dreams aside, it had to be perfect.
Or at least as good as I could make it under difficult circumstances.
The cake was tall and classic and gorgeous, but not as gorgeous as it could have been had I had all my sugar flowers. I fretted a bit, despite knowing I should just have been happy at this point that the lace hadn’t been damaged. Replacing that would have been impossible. I’d been putting Junie off on checking out the final product, but I knew I couldn’t keep her at bay any longer.
It was time for the bride to see her cake.
“Ivy?”
I whirled around, surprised to see Connor standing in the doorway. “Oh, hello.”
“Can I come in?” His eyes never left me, ignoring the cake I’d just put together.
I let out a shaky laugh. “It’s a communal kitchen in a communal chapel, Connor. Of course you can come in.”
He walked over to the table, pausing next to me as I nervously adjusted a piece of the royal lace. He was carrying a box with his store name on the top, then set the box next to the cake before stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“What’s this?”
