From Scratch (9 page)

“Hank…”

“Hank.

“Yep. Bits loves any reason to dress in something sparkly. And I think it's always wise to support the local police. You never know when you might need one or two on your side.”

“Well, I'll definitely encourage Jane to include brownies on the dessert menu. And, maybe a couple of those special oatmeal-raisin-spice cookies your wife doesn't know you like so much.”

Henry set his coffee on the counter and reached into his back-pocket, pulling out a well-worn wallet. He handed her a few bills, and tilted his head with a nod. “Maggie-girl, I think we can keep those cookies a secret between you and me. Bitsy wants to know everything, but she doesn't need to know everything.”

“Your secret is safe with me, Hank.” She cashed out his receipt and gave him the coins.

“I knew I liked you for more than your cookies. Hope you have a great day.” He smiled, slipping his wallet into his pocket. He fitted his tattered ball cap on his head and lifted his coffee and the bag. Turning to Sean, he said, “This one's a good tenant. Don't you let her get away.”

“Will do. See ya later, Hank.” Sean turned to face Maggie as the bell trailed the farmer's exit. “Quick question…” he started.

Feeling the heat of embarrassment rise, she lifted a single eyebrow.

“Do you have any sharp objects behind that counter?” His tone was warm with a slight dash of teasing.

She stepped up to the counter. “Is the big, bad chief of police scared of a little bitty baker?”

“My momma always told me to fear women I'd angered. And Maggie, I've angered you more times than I care to count.”

“You've nothing to fear here, Chief. Nothing, except some extra fat and calories. And, maybe a groveling tenant who needs to apologize for being so jumpy this morning.”

“No apology necessary. But, would you like to explain?” he asked.

Dropping her gaze from his, she was afraid that if she saw compassion in his eyes she would tell him more than she dared. Even her years evading any personal attachments hadn't prepared her for the moment she would encounter his sympathy. She must stay strong to remain safe and to keep him safe. “I thought I explained this morning. You sneaked up on me and I was startled. Just about anyone would have been shaken if you had let yourself in to their business, unannounced, before five o'clock in the morning.”

“If you say so…”

“I say so. Now, what can I get for you this morning?” She smiled.

“A large cup of coffee and a sun-dried tomato bagel…with some of that vegetable cream cheese.”

“Will do,” she said, sliding a paper cup and lid across the counter.

He'd capitulated too easily on the morning's incident. Something didn't feel right. He was a cop. He should be demanding to know why she had nearly severed his spleen in her kitchen. Why had he let her off the hook so easily?

She snatched a bagel from the back counter basket. She slathered each slice with cream cheese, sandwiched the halves, and then wrapped the order in waxed paper. She dropped the bagel and three napkins into a bag. Setting the package on the pick-up counter, she focused on the object of too many of her wayward thoughts.

He wore a lightweight, navy blue jacket with GRPD in bold white font stretched across the back. His pants were uniform blue and his weapon was on one hip. She had seen him countless times in full uniform, but before last night she couldn't recall seeing the gun. Shivers chased up her spine.

He poured skim milk into the coffee and lifted it to his lips. When he turned, his dark brown gaze was on her.

Butterflies swarmed in her stomach.

He reached into his jacket, retrieving his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

She lifted her hand as if she were a crossing guard stopping traffic. “On the house.” Her lips twitched as she spoke. “It's the least I can do.”

He shoved the bills back into the weathered leather. “So, you're meeting with Jane about the banquet today?”

“Yes. She's coming by this afternoon. I believe with her partner, Millie. Hopefully, the shop won't be too busy. Today could be a…”

The jingling of the bell over the door stopped Maggie midsentence.

Marshall Smith, the youngest of the Smith brothers, strutted through the door with a gleam of mischief lighting his eyes. He breathed in confidence and exhaled charm. He nudged Sean away from the counter with a meaty hand and reached for Maggie's with his other. “Good morning, Miss Maggie. How's the day treating you so far?” He lifted her knuckles to his lips.

“Just fine, Mr. Smith.” She giggled.

Marshall's jeans were distressed but neat. The polo he wore strained across his shoulders and chest causing the logo for Smith Brothers Construction to ripple above the pocket.

Sean elbowed Marshall. “You can wipe that smirk off your face, Marsh. The lady's trying to run a solid business here. She doesn't need to be harassed in her own store.”

“Just so happens I am here to do business with the lady.” Marshall crossed his arms. “What about you? Is this police harassment?” He lifted an eyebrow and tilted his head toward her.

“No. Sean was in here to get breakfast, just like you. I have your order all ready.” With a smile, she slid the bagel containers to the opposite counter in front of him. “Let me grab your cream cheeses from the back fridge.” With speed driven by the fear of potential bloodshed, she hustled to the back snagged the containers and slid to a stop, breathless, behind the counter.

The men were in a silent showdown. Both had their arms crossed; their gazes were on opposing walls.

Catching her breath, she shook her head and set the cream cheeses in the open spot between the bagel boxes.

Marshall twisted to her. Uncrossing his arms, he flashed a smile. “Hey, sugar. This looks great.”

She bit the side of her cheek, suppressing her own matching grin. “Your brother already paid the bill, so you're good to go.”

“Thanks.” With a wink, he straightened and lifted the carrier. He turned to exit, but stopped just inside the door. He flashed a grin that could melt the paint off the Mona Lisa. “I'll see you this afternoon for my P.M. fix, sugar.” The door jingled with his exit leaving only music to fill the silent space.

Her gaze drifted to Sean.

The bag crumpled in his grip. His gaze locked with hers; his lips were drawn in a tight line. “Guess I'll see you later.” But he didn't move—not even a shift toward exiting. Was he waiting for her to reply?

She tried to think of something clever to say, but all she could do was nod her head, unable to speak. The breath she thought had returned was quickly sucked from her body.

After another long minute, he rammed his hat on his head and left the café.

“Whew.” She slumped against the back counter. Her teeter was certainly tottering and it didn't have anything to do with crazy interns or burned cookie sheets.

~*~

Two steps outside the entry, Sean felt his shoulders drop. Was he actually jealous of Marshall Smith, his brother Joey's buddy? He shook his head. He was done. Seriously finished. Tension left his tightly gripped fingers, still clutching the bag holding his breakfast. He chuckled.

Jealous. But who could blame him? After months of ramming his attraction for Maggie to the back of his mind, keeping her firmly in the tenant-business-only-relationship file, he no longer could hold back his desire to pursue her. His attraction burst through him like the baseball he'd hit through Mrs. McGuernsey's front window in the 3
rd
grade. And like with that broken window, he wasn't quite sure what to do next. He was hung up on the pretty brunette with a smart mouth and killer eyes. He didn't know the path from jealous landlord to suitable suitor. Ugh! Even his thoughts were turning girlie.

Lifting his coffee to his lips, he jaywalked across the traffic-less street to the station, and caught the gold sedan in his peripheral. His cop instincts flared, and thoughts of Maggie returned to their well-marked file as the pages of Sissy's stalker notebook flipped through his mind. The car had Maryland plates and foggy windows from the early morning dew. With the sleeve of his jacket, he wiped the moisture from the driver's window and peered inside.

Not a single cup, map, or newspaper littered the inside. The car was as clean as the day it rolled off the assembly line. As far as he could tell, the vehicle had been sitting in that parking spot for at least twelve hours, if not longer.

How had he missed it that morning on his run? But, he hadn't run in front of the bakery. He'd made a detour. He straightened and looked over his left shoulder. From the driver's seat, one would have a perfect view of the café without ever being seen by Maggie. The hair on the back of Sean's neck prickled.

Alvin better have that background on the license plate.

7

The late afternoon sun beamed through the front windows, warming the café in an autumn glow. Maggie knew she should lower the shades, but she loved the way the colors transformed the shop in the afternoon. And it didn't hurt that the heat of the sun kept the senior ladies to one free refill instead of two, allowing Maggie time to linger over coffee and dessert plans for the Policemen's Ball with Jane.

They had sketches and notes strewn about the table and Maggie nodded her head at the appropriate intervals as Jane discussed her plans. “So the idea is to make the entire ballroom seem like a homecoming dance. I know it's a little cheesy, but Sean and I thought, fall, what goes with fall? In Ohio, the only correct response is football. Not that I get it.” Jane's eyes twinkled as her long brown ponytail swayed. “But most of the policemen played football, or at least watch football. And even though the current Columbus Chief of Police is a woman, there seems to be an assumption that the men and women in blue like nothing more than a little pigskin when the temperature begins to drop below freezing.”

“I haven't really watched football since college, but I can see the appeal. And I think the homecoming theme is a fun idea. We can make really special desserts that go along with the theme, well beyond leaf-shaped cookies. I'm thinking about making these little chocolate cups in the shapes of footballs, filling them with this amazing chocolate mousse that's so light and fluffy it can't possibly have any calories that stick with you. Oh, and then I just pulled together this new idea for a cherry-filled puffed pastry that is like taking a whole pie and popping it into your mouth in a burst of flavor. Maybe we can make it with pumpkin instead, more autumn-like. What do you think?”

Jane's eyes closed as a broad smile stretched across her lips. “Maggie, you are killing me. I think I just gained six and a half pounds listening to you describe these desserts. I won't be able to fit into the ridiculous costume Millie has picked out for me.”

“What is she making you wear?” Maggie asked as she poured coffee into Jane's cup.

“My best friend has decided that we need to go dressed as hockey cheerleaders. Which is totally ridiculous since hockey doesn't have cheerleaders.”

“Cheerleaders? Were you one in high school?”

Jane snorted. “No. And I definitely shouldn't play one now. But she's my best friend. She has been since she traded me her peanut butter and jelly sandwich for my ham salad in the first grade. So how could I say no?” Her smile twinkled in her eyes. “Come on, the girl saved me from ham salad. She has me for life.”

Maggie's head fell softly to the side, and she rested her chin in the palm of her right hand. She missed friends. More than friends, she missed friendships. The kind that spanned decades, not weeks. She missed the knowing looks and the intricate conversations that consisted of single word sentences. She missed trust. She had that once, when she was Mary Margaret. She sighed and shifted to fence-post straight in her seat as she listened to Jane. Friends would be nice, but they were a luxury.

Her business was a necessity. She needed to make this party, at least her part of it, spectacular. She may want friends, but she needed her business to be a success.

Jane patted Maggie's hand. “I'm sorry. I do tend to run off when I'm telling a story or talking in general. Let's talk cake.”

~*~

Sean could hear the giggles from the curb. The volume grew with each step toward the café. He yanked the front door open, causing the bell to jingle.

Three heads swiveled in response. One face held a warm smile shining through brown eyes he had known since childhood. The second face held the tentative grin of something more, but he couldn't be sure as her gaze dropped to the table. And the third face was nothing but trouble, from the tilt of her long, blonde-haired head, to the twinkle in her million-dollar eyes.

“Hello ladies. It seems you are elbow deep in event plans.”

Maggie stood. “Can I get you something, Chief?”

“Umm…sure. But you don't need to get anything for me. I can just…well…umm…”

Millie flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder, twisting in her seat. “Spit it out, Taylor. Do you want the girl to get you a coffee or are you just loitering because there isn't any crime in this town?”

Tipping his hat in her direction, Sean said, “Always good to see you, Mrs. Horton.”

“None of that ‘Mrs. Horton', nonsense. I will always be Amelia Tandis. Got it, Taylor?”

“That's Chief Taylor to you, Tandis. Steal a baby Jesus lately?”

“Sean, we were in the eighth grade, and I believe you were the look-out for that little mission.”

“I plead the Fifth.” He couldn't help the grin. He loved these ladies as if they were his own sisters. “How are you, Janesie?”

“I'm really well, Sean. Thanks for asking.” Jane smiled.

“She gets a ‘how are you'? All pleasant and nice, while I get hammered from the moment you enter the joint. You were never fair, Taylor. No wonder you became a cop. You can bully people professionally,” Millie huffed.