“They’re doing well.” Her grandma had called the night before, full of a glowing report on the house they were staying in near Cocoa Beach. She’d said she and Grandpa Jim took a sunrise stroll on the beach and planned to do that every morning it wasn’t raining. “It seems Florida is growing on them. It’s been weird to be in the bakery without them, though. Even when I was working here in high school, they rarely took time off, not even to go home early.”
Sammy walked past her again and out the front door. He had taken off his jacket and was rolling up the sleeves of his red-blue-and-green plaid flannel. The green stripe picked up the color of his eyes. He shot her a wink through the window.
“What can I do for you? Robin? Did I drop your call?”
“Sorry again! I must sound like a flake.” She shut her eyes and turned away from the door. Whatever Sammy was doing would have to wait until this conversation was over. She couldn’t afford to lose this potential job. “I’m calling because I was wondering about the possibility of selling some cupcakes at the basketball game on Friday. Bella Hudson mentioned the booster booth.” She held her breath.
On the other end there was a pause. She imagined Sheila gathering her thoughts. “I’m sorry, Robin, but that just won’t be possible. I promised the boosters they would have exclusive rights to concessions that night. There will be a big crowd, and they need the money for new uniforms.”
Robin tried not to let her disappointment leak into her voice. “I understand. Are there any other game nights available?”
“Let’s see. We have the Deep Haven Community Church youth group, then The Garden group home, then the youth center is doing a fundraiser for a new furnace.” A rustle of paper over the phone line. “I could pencil you in for the game on March sixteenth?”
Her brilliant idea flamed over like a brûlée left too long under the broiler. “I guess I’ll take that.”
“You know, I bet the booster club would love it if you could donate some cupcakes, though. Should I give you the number for the parent coordinator, Megan Barrett? They’re always looking for more treats. Your cupcakes would be a hit.”
She heard herself agreeing to call Megan. Opening her eyes to jot down the phone number, she saw Sammy carrying a long toolbox into the kitchen. What was going on?
She thanked Sheila and hung up the phone. A crash sounded from the kitchen. She gave Bella a raised eyebrow and cocked her head at the kitchen door gently swinging on its hinge. Bella shrugged. Well, only one way to find out.
“Sammy, what is going on in here?”
Sammy knelt on the floor, a pry bar in his hands. With a screech, one of the floorboards came loose and popped out of place. “You needed a few boards replaced. I’m replacing them.”
“You can’t do that.”
He popped the next floorboard. “It looks like I can.”
“No, I mean, I can’t let you do that. I thought you were going to help me find somebody to fix this.”
“I did. I looked in the mirror and there I found him.” He shot her a grin. Oh, those green eyes were going to be trouble.
She propped her hands on her hips. “How am I supposed to bake while you’re in here?” How was she supposed to concentrate if he kept coming in?
“That’s why I came in close to closing time. I know you usually have the bread dough in the proofing box or in the cooler by now, and then you come in mornings before the sun is up to bake. Late afternoon is a perfect time. No one is really using this area.”
He had her there. Also, he knew her baking schedule? Something about that struck her as…sweet. Really, really sweet. She wove the pen in her hand in and out of her fingers to give her hands something to do.
“Okay, but you must have other jobs to do. I can’t keep you from those.”
“Not for the next several days at least.” He spread his hands wide. “After three, I’m all yours.”
Did he mean… No, she was reading too much into his words.
He cut into her muddled thoughts. “Listen, I talked to Seth about the cabinet situation. He had several ideas, but then he said that most modern kitchens don’t bother with a cabinet under the sink. He suggested I build a frame for the sink and leave the piping exposed. That way you can see immediately if there is a problem. He also said you should consider tiling at least this area.” He gestured to an area around the sink.
The wood floor of the kitchen glowed with the warm patina of many years of love. Every ten years, Grandma Elaine paid someone to refinish it in order to preserve the heritage floor. Putting in tile instead?
Grandma Elaine was not going to like that.
“I don’t know. Grandma said not to change anything.”
“Hey, no pressure. Seth just mentioned that the places he’s consulted with do it out of concern for regulations. Some places get a failing score on their health inspections because they aren’t up to code.”
Yeah, no pressure.
Robin was caught between her desire to keep her promise to her grandmother and her concern that they pass the health inspection the following week. “Guess we’d better go for it. Let me know what it will cost.”
