Tom felt the tension ease as he got lost in her smile and nodded. “Yes. I think it’s time the bakery got a bit of an overhaul.”
“That’s great news,” Lila said. “I’ll leave the rest for tomorrow then, as it’s just things like better placemats for the customers who eat in. The cheap plastic ones we use now don’t do the bakery justice.”
Tom watched her, his heart swelling at how excited she was at the thought of giving the bakery a facelift that he admitted was long overdue.
“And the signboard out front,” Lila concluded, with a small wince. “I’m sorry, I know you have an attachment to it. But maybe you could retire it to storage as it really does need replacing.”
“Yes to all of it,” Tom told her. “I’ve noticed it all.” His jaw clenched for an instant. “I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
Lila’s eyes met his. Not with judgment but with understanding.
“I completely understand,” she said, her voice soft and filled with compassion. “I wandered around a huge house by myself for two years because I couldn’t let Kenny go.”
His eyes fell on the book in front of her, and his brow lifted in surprise when he saw the small, careful pencil drawings of the bakery’s front room with the new layout she was proposing. The cabinet was gone, and in its place were the two extra-small tables with the small linen squares on them, each sporting a condiment basket. There was also a sketch of the proposed new sign, in clean, handwritten letters, with a small spray of wheat along the bottom edge.
Tom blinked. “Lila.” Tom pointed to the drawings. “Did you draw these?”
“Yes.” Lila nodded.
“You can draw?” Tom’s eyes widened in surprise.
“A little,” Lila admitted, her cheeks going pink again. “Art’s always been my second love, behind baking. I keep a sketchbook with me most of the time. I love to curl up in my bay window overlooking the bay and sketch on the weekends.”
“These drawings are beautiful,” Tom praised her work.
“Thank you,” Lila gave a shy laugh.
Tom looked at the small, careful sketch in front of her. The cream walls. The two extra tables. The bakery looked exactly like itself, only fresher. Eleanor’s chairs were still in their place, but restored. Eleanor’s tables were still in their place, just dressed differently.
It struck him, sitting there looking at her book, that Lila had not asked him to let go of Eleanor at all. She’d lovingly restored andgently modernized what Eleanor had created, keeping her legacy shining.
Eleanor had been gone for five years. Tom had spent every one of those years standing in front of the bakery’s front window and watching the lettering fade by a quarter of a shade. He’d told himself the faded sign was a way of keeping his late wife close. The truth was, he’d simply been afraid that the moment he picked up a paintbrush, he would somehow lose what he had left of her as she painted away what they had built together.
But Lila had quietly sat and restored Eleanor’s work, respecting the woman who had helped him bring his family’s failing bakery back to life. Lila was once again taking it off life support and breathing life back into it so it wouldn’t collapse again, while paying homage to Eleanor.
Tom couldn’t speak for a few moments as he battled with the barrage of emotions that had hit him in that moment. Instead, he lifted his glass and took a big sip of the club soda in order to regain some semblance of order over himself.
Luckily, their server came back with their food, distracting them as she placed the dishes in front of them.
“Enjoy your meals,” the server said. “If you need anything, just look for me.”
“Thank you,” Tom and Lila said in unison. The young woman smiled and then slipped away.
“This looks delicious,” Lila said, picking up her cutlery.
“Yes, it does,” Tom agreed as he tucked into his meal. It was delicious.
They were halfway through and had been discussing the day’s crowd when Lila suddenly remembered something.
“Eve Saunders, the festival organizer, stopped by this morning while you were at the hospital,” Lila told him. “I meant to mention it, but things just got so hectic.”
“What did Eve want?” Tom asked curiously.
“She told me that they still had one open booth,” Lila told him. “Apparently, they keep it open each year.”
Tom nodded. He knew where she was going with this.
“Yes,” he replied with a tight smile. “She’s talking about the bakery booth. Eleanor and I used to run it every year. I did for two years after she passed away, but then stopped as it just got too much for me to handle.”
