“I wasn’t purposefully keeping it from you, Mom,” she insisted. “He only came into town yesterday. And I was going to tell you. I just hadn’t gotten around to it.”
“I would much rather have heard it from you than through whisperings at this morning’s knitting circle.” Margot’s thin shoulders squared, her mouth dipping into a disapproving frown that still had the power to make Faith feel like a disobedient adolescent. “He’s trouble, Faith.”
“He’s not trouble. You and I both know that.” Faith handed her mother the bag of goodies, and to her surprise, Margot passed off the cupcakes to the twins before saying, “Please go sit at that table right over there next to the big front window. Hang your jackets on the back of your chairs and fold your scarves and place them on the empty seats. Then you can each have half of your cupcake now, and the other half after dinner, okay? I’ll be right over. I just need to talk to your sister alone for a minute.”
The twins didn’t need to be instructed twice. They were off like a shot, giggling with sheer joy as they held tightly to the small cardboard boxes housing their afternoon treats. Grabbing the backs of the chairs, they both hoisted themselves into their seats, followed their mother’s directions regarding their winterwear, and then happily tore into the boxes. It was a mess in the making, but one Faith would not mind cleaning up one single bit.
“Faith.” Margot flattened her palms onto the counter and moved closer, her voice a hush that still harbored a sternness reminiscent of when Faith was young and needed discipline. “Anthony is not well-received around here and you know that. Not after what he said about our beloved town in that terrible newspaper.”
“He didn’t say anything other than the truth.” Faith came to her friend’s defense. “When he wrote the article, the only place to book a room was the Inn. Thankfully, we’ve got Josephine’s place up and running now, along with several other short-term rentals since the county is finally issuing permits again. But he didn’t lie, Mom.”
“He said, and I quote,‘If you’re hoping to spend a winter’s week filled with luxury and amenities, your best bet is to drive further east and continue on toward Tahoe, as Snowdrift Summit—while charming in its own unique and peculiar way—does not have the lodging necessary to accommodate more than a handful of travelers.’”
Faith winced. Shereallywished he’d kept thatpeculiarpart out. Sure, they were a peculiar bunch with some small-town traditions that only made sense to the locals, but no one ever liked being called out on their quirkiness. And she didn’t know if she should be impressed or appalled that her mother had committed the entire passage to memory.
“He’s my friend, Mom. I don’t think his words were meant to be malicious. Plus, wasn’t Pastor Tobias’ sermon this last weekend about welcoming back the prodigals?”
“Anthony is no prodigal son,” Margot asserted, binding her hands over her chest.
Thankfully, Faith didn’t have to delve into the bullet points of the sermon since another customer coming through the doors interrupted their conversation. She was okay with that. She didn’t want to argue with her mother, and if she could admitto the full truth, she understood the animosity toward Anthony. He deserved some of it, but not the heaping amount the town wanted to pile on him.
“Welcome to Summit Sweets, what can I get—?” Directing her attention around her mother, Faith greeted her newest guest, only to have her words cut short once again. “Mitch?”
Her neighbor stepped into the store, more bundled up than she’d ever seen him, which wasn’t saying too much considering their recent run-ins. But today he wore a weather-appropriate blue jacket zipped clear up to his chin, and a gray wool scarf looped several times around his neck. He tugged it off as he moved closer to the counter, winding the long piece of fabric around his hand until it looked like some sort of bandage wrap. Was he fidgeting? Faith couldn’t really tell.
“I thought you were sick.” She had to call him out on it. Despite putting on quite a show the night before, he hadn’t fooled anyone.
Margot retreated a step, glancing curiously between her daughter and the fireman.
“I thought I was coming down with something yesterday, but after taking it easy and popping a couple antacids, I’m feeling much better.”
Faith didn’t feel like dissecting the lie, so she just let it be. “Okay, then. What can I get you?”
“I heard from the guys that I missed your delivery at the station today, so I thought I’d swing by to see if you had any left over that I might be able to bum off you.”
“And you didn’t want to just stop by the firehouse to see if they had some there?”
“Nope.” His hands crammed into his front pockets and his shoulders climbed up to his ears. “I’d rather come straight to the source.”
“I’m going to check on the twins,” Margot said from the periphery of their conversation. “Sweetheart, I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”
Mitch watched Margot head to the table where Cadee and Connor were most definitely consuming more than their allotted cupcake halves.
“Your mom?” Mitch hooked his thumb in the little family’s direction.
“My mom, my brother, and my sister.” Faith fretted with the end of her apron tie between her fingers, understanding it wasn’t all that different from Mitch’s strange scarf twiddling earlier. Why were they both so anxious? “They like to come here after they get out of T-K.”
“Super cute kids,” he said with a grin, chuckling when Connor tried to take another bite of the cupcake even as Margot pulled it from his sticky hands. He looked like one of those hungry, hungry hippos from the game, chomping the air in hopes of one last mouthful. Mitch pivoted back to Faith. “RJ said the mocha coconut crinkles were the best cookies he’s ever had. With praise that high, I thought I’d take a chance and see if you had an extra on hand that I could try for myself.”
“RJ says every cookie I make is the best thing he’s ever had.” The guy had a certified sweet tooth and endless compliments for Faith’s creations. “But you’re in luck. I have a few oddibles in the back that didn’t make it onto the tray headed to the firehouse.”
“A few what?”
“Oddibles,” Faith answered, understanding it wasn’t a word commonly found in everyone’s vocabulary. “It’s what I call the ones that aren’t quite edible and are just a little odd.”
“Gotcha. Like the tray of burnt cookies from the other day.”
“No, those were completely edible. If I remember correctly, you hung around and watched me eat them.”
