Always the Baker, Finally the Bride (33 page)

“Listen,” Fee said as she massaged the pastry bag of red icing, “I’ve wanted to tell you something for a while.”

“If you say you’re quitting, I’ll come across this table and strangle you.”

Fee chuckled. “Nah. Where would I go?”

“Wherever you went, I’d hunt you down and bring you back.”

“Sean and I will be moving into the new house soon, and we . . . uh . . . Well, don’t laugh.”

“I won’t.”

“We’ve been talking about . . . kids.”

Emma sat down on the closest stool. “Fiona. Are you . . . 
pregnant
?”

“No!” she exclaimed, and she aimed the pastry bag at Emma for a few seconds. “No, we’re in the process of . . . well . . .”

“Fee, just spit it out, will you? You’re freaking me out here.”

“We’re gonna adopt Hildie.”

Emma sat there for a moment. Despite the fact that Fee behaved as if this news would somehow come across as shocking, it didn’t seem to Emma in the least bit surprising.

“I think that’s great.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do,” she said, grinning. “The three of you are a perfect fit, Fiona. I’m so happy for you, and for Hildie.”

“I know she’s rough in places,” Fee said, “but at the heart of her, there’s a really great kid.”

“Just like you,” Emma said, and the validation brightened Fee’s whole demeanor. “And you are going to be the best mom ever.”

“Dude. You mean that?”

“Yes!”

“Good. Then . . .” Fee set down the pastry bag and glared at it. “Do you think you and Jackson could write us letters of reference?”

Emma laughed. “Of course! Just tell me what you need and when.”

“Just, you know, saying we’re like these stellar people with impeccable integrity, and how we’ll make the best parents since June and Ward Cleaver. That kind of thing.”

“Then . . . lie.”

“Right.”

“Sure. We can do that.”

Aunt Sophie’s Savannah Tea Cakes

4 cups all-purpose flour

(plus another ½ cup for rolling)
2 cups granulated sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg
2 eggs
½ cup buttermilk
2 sticks butter, softened
1 teaspoon vanilla

Sift flour into a large bowl, and mix in the dry ingredients.
Add the remaining ingredients and mix well.
Transfer the mixture to a floured board and
shape into a thick disk.
Cover the dough with plastic wrap and
refrigerate for 1-2 hours.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees
.

Roll out the dough on a floured surface.
The dough should be about ¼ inch thick.
Cut the dough into desired shapes.

[Note: A round-rimmed glass works well;
also, thick cookie cutters or rippled biscuit cutters
create nice shapes.]

Bake on a lightly greased cookie sheet for 10 minutes.

Just calm down, Emmy. Deep breaths.”

Emma’s father stroked her arm, and she marveled at the way the sound of his voice transported her back to childhood in only an instant.

“Just tell us what happened.”

Her silent mother sat erect in the chair across from her, rubbing her hands as she waited, and Gavin remained perched on the edge of the plastic chair beside her.

“I stopped by like I always do,” Emma told them, and a nurse behind the desk interrupted her to call out the name of Samuel Something, who hurried across the waiting room lobby toward her. “She didn’t answer when I knocked, so I went inside. When she wasn’t sitting in her chair, I called out to her, and she still didn’t answer. So I went into the bedroom, and there she was, lying on the floor.”

Emma’s hands shook, and she pressed them against her trousers in the hope of making the trembling stop. “I tried to bring her around, and she stirred a little, but then she moaned and I was afraid she might have broken something. That’s when I called 911.”

The emergency room doors suddenly slid open, and Jackson rushed through them and headed straight for Emma. She jumped to her feet and hurried into his arms.

“Is Sophie all right?” he asked as he held her. “Is the doctor with her?”

“They herded us out of the examination room,” she told him, her arms tight around his midsection. “They’re doing some tests, and she should be back down in a few minutes.”

The moment she released him, Jackson headed for Avery and sat down next to her. He took her hand and rubbed it affectionately. “Do you need anything?” he asked her.

“No, no, thank you, Jackson. I’m just eager to hear what the doctor has to say.”

Jackson looked up and nodded at Gavin.

“Thanks for coming, my boy.”

Emma heard Jackson’s reply before he’d even spoken it. “Of course. Where else would I be?”

They settled into the hard waiting room chairs—except for Gavin, who paced in front of the glass window—and Jackson loosely held Emma’s hand. The activity around them hummed, but the quietude of no answers about Aunt Sophie was mostly all that Emma could hear. When the nurse finally called out to them, she sensed a break in the silence that shattered like glass.

“Miss Sophie is in the third exam room to the right. Just one person can go on back and sit with her until the doctor comes in a few minutes.”

Emma’s mother didn’t hesitate; she simply headed toward the door. “Third on the right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Emma and Jackson returned to their chairs, and this time Gavin followed suit, occupying the chair his wife had vacated.

Emma realized that the distant thumping she heard was her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, and she inhaled sharply and closed her eyes. She couldn’t shake the memory of Sophie’s very pale face as she lay there on the floor, her eyes closed and her clothes uncharacteristically disheveled.

Nearly an hour ticked by before Avery reappeared, her porcelain face drained of color, nearly as pale as Sophie’s had been when Emma found her. All three of them snapped to attention like family soldiers, waiting for the “At ease” command from Emma’s mother.

“She has a mild concussion,” she told them, and Emma gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. “She’s going to be all right, and she’s awake and talking. I had a little difficulty following her, but it seems she may have been trying to heat up some soup for dinner and got confused.” Avery paused, sniffing back her emotions. When her husband placed an arm around her shoulder, Emma’s mother broke down. “Gavin, she said she couldn’t remember where she was. She didn’t recognize her own apartment.”

Emma’s heart broke, both for her mother and for her aunt. How horrible to experience that kind of confusion, to become disoriented in what should have been the most familiar place.

“He says the Alzheimer’s has obviously advanced to the place where very soon she won’t be able to live on her own anymore, not even with assisted living. She’s going to have to have care twenty-four hours a day.”

“We’ll figure it out, then,” Gavin reassured her. “I promise, Countess. We’ll figure it out.”

Emma hadn’t heard her father refer to her mother as “Countess” since her teen years. She’d forgotten all about the loving nickname he’d given Avery while their romance was still young, and it warmed her heart to witness their loving exchange now.

“They want to keep her overnight,” Avery told them. she sniffed again and recovered her familiar stoic expression. “But you never know if it will extend to a couple of days or more. I’m going to stay with her until she’s settled. Emma Rae, will you go to your aunt’s apartment and pack her a bag, please?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jackson told her.

“She’s going to need her bathrobe, and those embroidered slippers that she likes.”

“Mother. I’ll bring everything she needs.”

Emma kissed Avery’s cheek as she hugged her, and Gavin embraced her before she and Jackson headed out the door.

“Let’s take my car,” Jackson said, leading her by the hand. “You don’t need to drive right now.”

She slipped into the passenger seat and fastened her seatbelt. After a moment, she glanced over to find Jackson watching her.

“What?” she asked him.

Just one twitch, a minute little shift in his facial expression, and Emma caved into him, crying.

“I know you love her,” he soothed. “We all love her.”

“I don’t even know if there’s anything you can do. But I just have to do something to get more storage space in here.”

J.R. tapped on the wall of Emma’s office and listened to it like a doctor with a stethoscope.

“This wall is hollow. What’s on the other side?” he asked her.

“I have no idea. Maybe Anton’s back office?” She tried to visualize the layout on the other side of the wall. “Or it could be his pantry.”

“All right, I’m going over to have a look. I’ll be right back.”

He ran a hand through his mane of shaggy hair and headed out of her office, leaving his leather jacket behind, draped over the corner of her desk. Half an hour later, he returned, grinning at her, his blue eyes sparkling.

“You are a very lucky baker,” he told her. “There’s a storage closet on this side,” and he tapped on the far wall. “And over here is the storage shed on the back end of the courtyard. If we knock out the wall behind you and build into the storage shed, we can extend your office that way so that you’ll have more space. Then we can push into the short wall and build some storage shelves and cabinets, whatever you need.”

“Really?” She tried to imagine it, but felt turned around.

“All you really heard,” he teased, “was ‘blah-blah-blah storage shelves,’ right?”

She chuckled. “Yeah, kinda. Maybe you’d better work something up and show it to Jackson?”

“Glad to.”

“Will you be able to do the work?” she asked.

“Maybe. If we time it right. I’ve got a couple of obligations this month that I have to take care of out of town. I’ll run upstairs and see if I can talk to Jackson now, and we’ll go from there. Sound good?”

“Very. Thank you, J.R.”

“Any time,” he said, and his cell phone jingled an interruption. “Sorry. Just one sec.” He checked the screen of his phone and raised his eyes to look at her. “Audrey wants you to call her.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you later.”

Once J.R. had gone, Emma called his wife.

“I can’t find your cell number, Emma,” Audrey said as she picked up the call. “Can you text me so I have it in my phone?”

“Sure. J.R. said you need to talk to me. What’s up?”

“Don’t panic, okay?”

Emma’s stomach did a little somersault. “Oh, no. Something happened to my dress?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “No, not at all. The alterations are done, it’s pressed and beautiful. Just tell me whether to deliver it to your place or to the hotel.”

“The hotel, if you don’t mind. I’ll be getting ready here.”

“You got it. I’ll make sure it arrives the day before the wedding.”

“Great, Audrey, thank you.”

“Well, don’t thank me just yet.”

Emma swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Why not?”

“I have to fly to Chicago tomorrow, Emma. There’s some sort of problem with the show we’re preparing for, and Riley needs me back there.”

“For how long?”

“Well, that’s the thing. It could be a day or two, or it could be longer. I just won’t know until I get there.”