“Elizabeth says you’re infatuated over a girl.”
“Elizabeth needs to mind her own business.” He was going to have to talk to his publicist and set a few boundaries.
“I’ve never heard you sound this defensive over a girlfriend.”
Hank sighed, wishing he did a better job of reining in his temper. “I’ll be home the weekend after next, and her name is Bethany. She has a brother about your age. I’m hoping to bring them with me.”
“You really like her, don’t you?”
“She’s not hard to like.”
“You never said that about Melanie.”
Louis pulled the car into the drive. He would drop Hank off and then return the car to wherever hestored it.
“Yes, well, you’ll see what I mean when you meet her.”
“This sounds serious. You think she’s the one?”
“One what?”
Connor sighed loud and long. “The one you’re going to marry someday.”
“What are you talking about? I’m not getting married.” Why would his brother think he was planning a long-term commitment? Hank cleared his throat, which had become clogged. “Listen, Connor, I gotta run. Thanks for watching Woodrow. I’ll see you in about ten days.”
“Thanks for paying my tuition, big guy.”
“It’s nothing.” He ended the call but stared at his phone without really seeing it. Was that where this friendship with Bethany was leading—to marriage and kids one day? Connor hadn’t met Bethany, and even he sensed that a woman like her wanted commitment—a commitment Hank doubted he could offer.
He closed his eyes and pressed his head against the back of the seat, but he couldn’t stop the cold trickle of fear from entering his gut and spreading through his limbs. To distract himself, he picked up the phone and called Elizabeth. He may not be the marrying kind, but he would do what he could to ensure Bethany’s dreams for Grandma Lou’s came true.
Bethany addedpeanut butter brownies to the display case and wiped her palms on her jeans. Only crumbs remained from her latest batch of Grandma Lou’s chocolate cake with buttercream frosting. She eyed the knife and fork on the clock above the counter, which pointed to eleven. The lunch crowd hadn’t yet arrived, and Rosie andthe girls were eating lunch at their usual booth in the corner.
She took an uneven breath and headed toward the kitchen. There were no more tweaks to Grandma Lou’s recipe. The time had come to submit their contest entry. Even though she had until midnight on Friday, she couldn’t wait a second longer.
She hurried to the kitchen and set up her laptop. She keyed in the contest entry website and began completing the short form. Business name—check, recipe—check, photographs of the cake—check, electronic signature verifying the recipe was an original first served in their café—check. She entered all the information and then hovered her hands over the keyboard. “Grandma Lou, here goes nothing,” she whispered.
She clicked the mouse and hit enter. The button went gray before the page morphed into a time-clock, counting down the minutes until the voting would begin. Excitement curled in the pit of her stomach like a wriggling worm.
She exited the screen and moved to the next task. In a busy kitchen, there was no time to dwell on any one job. She pulled freezer containers from under the worktable and began filling them with the pumpkin cookies she’d iced earlier.
“Did you know today’s Hank’s birthday?” Rosie asked, breezing into the room with a stack of dirty dishes and proceeding to load the dishwasher.
Bethany glanced up, surprise creasing her forehead. “No, I didn’t. Are you sure?”
“Well, unless he’s lying. It was his excuse for ordering a chocolate donut with sprinkles this morning. He stopped in on his way to do repairs over at Jim’s Jewelry. He said there’s a hole in the wall that needs patched.”
Bethany sealed the first container and started on a second, swallowing the guilt clogging her throat. How come she hadn’t known it was Hank’s birthday? “You’ve sure been spending a lot of time talking with Hank lately.” Ever since he’d saved Tia’s life, now that Bethany thought about it. “He didn’t mention it was his birthday. I feel bad I didn’t get him anything.”
“He’s a good man. He’s been kind to us. The girls were thinking we could bake him a cake. He loves your supernatural whoopie pies. Why don’t you make a giant one?”
Relief at the suggestion made her hands tremble. She would give Hank a celebration like he’d never had before—a personal one that spoke to their friendship and the stories he’d told her about his family. “Rosie, you’re a genius. I’ll get started right away.”
She called to Tia and Tana, who were playing with a set of blocks in the corner. “Girls, put on your aprons and come and help me. We’re going to make Hank a special birthday cake.”
“Yay!” the girls chorused, running to find the little aprons Bethany had sewn for them last Christmas, which were stored in a cupboard low to the ground where they could reach.
Bethany pulled ingredients—flour, sugar, salt, baking soda, cocoa, butter, vanilla, buttermilk, and one large egg—and set them on the worktable, then pulled out the large mixing bowl.
