"She's fine," Raven said grudgingly. "I suppose."
Arty's grin widened into something far too knowing. "High praise indeed."
"Don't start."
"Wouldn't dream of it." He clapped her on the shoulder. "See you at the bake sale on Saturday, then?"
"If I must."
"You must. You agreed to help, remember?"
"Unfortunately," Raven muttered.
But as she walked back to her cottage, she couldn't quite shake the memory of Annabelle's smile when Raven had agreed to teach the children a song.
Or the uncomfortable realization that she'd actually meant it when she said yes, she’d help.
Christ. This village was going to be the death of her.
Chapter Eleven
Annabelle had been awake since four-thirty.
This wasn't unusual for bake sale mornings, she liked to give herself plenty of time to prepare, to make sure everything was perfect. What was slightly unusual was the fact that she'd woken at four and spent half an hour staring at her ceiling, wondering what her next door neighbor was doing. Sleeping, was the obvious answer, but she did wonder whether Raven was going to show up.
By five-thirty, she’d started baking.
Now, at half past eight, her kitchen looked like a bakery had exploded. Three cooling racks of lemon biscuits sat on the counter, golden and perfect. A Victoria sponge, her grandmother's recipe, rested under a glass dome, dusted with icing sugar. Two dozen chocolate brownies were cooling in their tin, filling the cottage with the scent of cocoa and vanilla.
"Right," she said to her empty kitchen, surveying the chaos with satisfaction. "That should do it."
She'd just started packing everything into Tupperware containers when her phone buzzed.
Lily: You better not have been up since dawn baking.
Annabelle smiled and typed back:I have no idea what you're talking about.
Lily: Annabelle.
Just since six! That's basically a lie-in.
Lily: You're impossible. Need help setting up?
Already sorted, but thank you! See you at ten x
The bake sale was being held in the school playground, which meant Annabelle had to haul everything across the village. She loaded her car boot with careful precision, biscuits on top, brownies in the middle, sponge cake secured in its special carrier.
"Morning, Ms. Swift!"
Annabelle nearly dropped a tray of lemon biscuits. Jamie Long was cycling past on his bike, looking more cheerful than she'd seen him in weeks.
"Good morning, Jamie. You're up early."
"Mum says I have to come help with the bake sale." He was grinning in a way that told Annabelle that possibly someone had told him that a rockstar was going to be in his school playground. "She's bringing her carrot cake."
"How lovely!" Annabelle beamed. Kayley Long's carrot cake was, admittedly, excellent. Even if Kayley herself was… well. Challenging. "I'll see you there in a bit, shall I?"
By quarter to ten, Annabelle had transformed three folding tables into an appealing display. Bunting fluttered overhead, donated by Gloria from the am-dram society's storage. Hand-painted signs advertised prices. Everything looked cheerful and inviting and exactly right.
