It seemed all of Snowdrift was aware of Sarah’s return. She was tempted to ask if her parents had taken out an ad in the local newspaper to broadcast the news.
“It’s wonderful to see you.” Faith seemed to genuinely mean it. “I’ve thought a lot about you after hearing about Darren. I’m so sorry that happened to you. While my exact experience might not be the same, I do have to say that Snowdrift Summit is the perfect place to heal a heart.”
Sarah had heard of Faith’s father’s passing, mostly because he had been a favorite at the firehouse Zeke had retired from. For as long as she could remember, Mr. Porter brought pastries and cookies weekly, showing unwavering support for the first responders of Snowdrift. Sarah was aware Faith had recently taken up this tradition, carrying on her father’s legacy of gratitude through baked goods. Their family was special, the true heart of their town.
“I’m glad to be back,” Sarah said as Faith navigated around the glass pastry case to take her order. “And while I can’t argue with you about the healing power of this place, I think your sweets might play a role, too. Hard to be sad with so much sugar around.”
Faith raised a brow, a playful glint in her eye. “A potential new slogan?” she mused. “My branding could use a little work. I’ll be sure to credit you and pay royalties in the form of…pastries.”
Sarah liked Faith’s quick wit and wondered if it was too forward to ask if she’d like to grab coffee sometime. She could sure use a friend around Snowdrift, and Faith seemed like she had the potential to be a great one.
“What can I get you?” The baker strummed her fingers along the counter.
“Those cinnamon rolls had me from the moment I opened the door. I think one of those and two-dozen donut holes should be perfect.”
Sarah had planned to drop off the donuts in the break room at the library. While there wasn’t an official schedule, she’d noticed a few other colleagues showing up with snacks to share, and she wanted to be part of that camaraderie.
“You’re probably heading into work,” Faith noted, “but if you have some extra time, you should stop by Bitter Cold and grab one of those hot chocolates named after your brother. They pair perfectly with the cinnamon rolls.”
Sarah appreciated the suggestion. “I’ve got time. I just might take that advice.”
The coffeeshop was conveniently located three doors down, and Sarah found herself with almost an hour to spare. Her original plan was to watch the sunrise from inside the warmth of her vehicle with a toasty pastry, but a hot chocolate in hand sounded like a delightful addition.
As she left Summit Sweets, she wasn’t prepared for yet another unexpected twist in her morning—bumping smack-dab into Lance’s broad shoulder the moment she stepped onto the sidewalk.
“Sarah!” Lance’s hand shot out and cuffed her arm to keep her from toppling over. In his other hand, he had a cup bearing the Bitter Cold logo. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
“It’s my fault,” Sarah admitted, lifting the bag from the bakery. “I was in a sugar zone and wasn’t paying attention. Are you heading into work?”
“In a bit. But I was going to watch the sunrise first. It’s something I like to do if I have extra time before clocking in. Nana Jo once told me that she watched every single sunrise with Grandpa, up until the sunset of his life.” Lance shrugged. “I thought that was a really beautiful sentiment.”
Sarah’s heart fluttered from the sweetness of it all. “It’s very beautiful,” she agreed. “I was about to go to the coffeeshop to grab myself a hot chocolate to go with my cinnamon roll. If you’re up for company, I’ll join you. Only if you’re not in a rush.”
Lance rolled his wrist to glance at his watch. “It’s only seven. We’ve got twenty minutes until the show begins.” He smiled. “Take your time.”
CHAPTER 10
Experiencing a Snowdrift sunrise during the summer months was undoubtedly warmer, but not nearly as beautiful as the wintertime in Lance’s book. The way the radiant sun reflected off the pristine white mountainside, casting its pastel colors like a prism across the summit resembled a real-time work of art.
Lance couldn’t quite explain the way the dawn made him feel. It was equal parts hope and melancholy. He loved the tradition his grandparents created, but the fact that Nana Jo no longer had her beloved husband to share it with made something pull tight right in the center of Lance’s chest.
But today, sitting next to Sarah on his tailgate, a little of that sadness dissipated, making room for an unexpected emotion. He remembered feeling this way when they’d danced at the homecoming dance as young teenagers. The way his hand felt on the small of her back. How her raspberry vanilla perfume tickled his nose. How her feet were unsteady and inexperienced in three-inch heels, requiring Lance to hold on just a little tighter so she didn’t wobble.
This morning, the way their legs touched as they sat side by side in his truck bed made all of that longing return, but in amore subdued sense. Now, he was no longer just enamored by Sarah’s beauty or the bashful looks she would give him when he’d caught her eye. Sure, he still loved those things about her. But there was a maturity to his feelings. He appreciated her resilience. Admired her drive. Adored the way she mothered and cherished her contagious laugh. There was something about knowing someone for so long, a history tied together with an invisible piece of thread.
“Oh, wow,” she said for the eighth time as she looked out over the sun-drenched valley, hand over her heart. “Goodness. Look at that.”
Lance couldn’t help but smile at Sarah’s soft commentary. Every time the sun stretched higher and cast out a new shade, her eyes would widen and her breath would hitch. It was as though she’d never seen anything like it, which was fair because the sunrise was fresh and unique each morning, especially in these parts.
“Lance, this is stunning.”
He took a swig from his coffee cup that had almost completely cooled. “Right? Cold, but worth it.”
“So worth it.” She slid a little closer, bumping shoulders. “You do this every morning?”
“Unless I sleep in, but that’s a rare occasion.”
She moved the empty cinnamon roll wrapper from her lap to the tailgate and scooted even closer into his side. “I think the last morning I slept in was before Laney was born. And even then, I didn’t sleep all that well when I was pregnant. It’s been years since I’ve slept past seven.”
