Sweet Expectations (26 page)

“Oh, I will be very specific going forward.” She whisked a stray curl from her face. “So how did your trip go?”

I filled her in and told her about the Chief. “This is Walter's Bible. He's been holding it all these years.”

Rachel smoothed her hand over the book. “That is amazing. We never would have found him if not for Jenna's recipe box.”

“Yeah. She seems to be our little guiding light.”

Rachel cocked her head. “You look tired.”

My back ached and my feet throbbed as if they'd grown five sizes. “I tell you this kid is kicking my ass.”

Rachel smiled. “Wait until she's born. She's only just getting started.”

I grimaced. “Thanks.”

She held up her hands in mock surrender. “Just keeping it real.”

I yawned. “What can I do for tomorrow?”

“Your winery awaits its liquor license, but the front of the shop will be stocked and ready to go.”

“I'm going to take a nap and then I'll finish up the wine shop.”

“You really don't have to,” Rachel said. “It's a bit of a soft opening, and we can't push the wines until we get our license in a couple of weeks.”

“We'll have good traffic tomorrow, and I don't want to miss an opportunity to at least show off our wine room if someone is curious.”

“You think we'll sell that wine?”

“I do. Fat and sugar pair well with wine. You'll see.”

Chapter Twenty

Saturday, 7:00
A.M.

Opening day

Income Lost: $6000

R
ed, white, and blue balloons wafted in a gentle wind as I tied them to a white sandwich board that read
GRAND REOPENING
, which we'd borrowed from a shoe store up the street. Nervous energy humming, I flipped the sign on the front door to Open and waited for the parade of customers. A half-dozen patrons showed up the first hour, not a grand start by anyone's standards. And so armed with a plate of cookies, I headed out into the street to stir up business. A glance toward Gordon's shop told me he was open, and wanting to stay positive, I turned the other way to greet potential customers. Several times the temptation to turn and look in his direction was so strong but I held fast. Though several times the hair on the back of my neck rose and I imagined his gaze on me. Instead of turning, I kept smiling and walking away, unable to endure the sadness vibrating from every muscle in his body.

By ten the trickle of customers had grown stronger and by eleven we actually had a line in front of the display case. Word had also spread about the frozen dough, and we'd sold four orders. As the cash register dinged with each new purchase, I imagined the debt on our books shrinking. Life was looking up . . . a little.

Finally at two, I locked the front door and flipped the Open sign to Closed. Our first day back open had been a hit. We might survive.

Rachel grinned. “We survived the renovation and the reopening.”

“I told you we would.”

She laughed. “Yeah, you did.”

“I'm smarter than I look.”

Meg and Tim carried the remaining cookies back behind the swinging doors. They'd been great. Tim had stayed in the back, carefully restocking trays, and Meg had been on the register smiling brightly at customers while Rachel and I took orders. We'd been a good team today.

As Meg reached for an empty tray of sugar cookies, I thought about Joey. On and off all day and most of last night, I'd worried about him alone in his room. I suspected he'd been on his own for a long time but that didn't make it right. The young man in the picture had been so full of promise. And he'd ended up alone in a corner room with no pictures and a crappy view of a privacy fence.

After we cleaned the cases and swept the floors, Meg and Tim said their good-byes, Rachel vanished upstairs, and I boxed up a healthy dose of sugar cookies and headed to see Joey.

Saturday traffic on the beltway was heavy, so it was past three when I parked in front of the retirement home. The receptionist was at her post but I was ready for her this time. I handed her a box of assorted cookies for her, she beamed and sent me to Joey's room.

I found Joey sitting in his room in his well-worn chair, a box resting in his lap. His eyes brightened when he saw me, and he sat a little straighter.

I closed the door, reaching in my backpack as I crossed the room to him. I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out a pink Union Street Bakery box.

“You brought cookies,” he said.

“Not cookies but Jenna's cookies. I told you we found her recipe box.”

He took the box and inspected it as if it were a great treasure. “I used to love her cookies.” He bit into one and closed his eyes, savoring more than the flavors but the memories they evoked. I could see him traveling back in time to Old Town Alexandria. He would have been wearing his Marine uniform, sporting his cap and walking with a spring in his step.

“It's delicious.”

“I made you a couple of dozen and wrapped them in small packages in case you have to hide them from the gatekeeper.”

His grin turned devilish. “She's never admitted to it but I know she searches my room. She never takes nothing. She just moves my things a little. I'm old but I know when my stuff has been touched.”

He'd been a warrior, and he couldn't count on privacy in his own room. “We'll hide these all over the room before I leave.”

“It's a date, doll.” He offered me a cookie and I took it. One bite and I relaxed.

“Not bad.”

“You couldn't miss one of Jenna's recipes. She had an angel's touch when it came to baking.”

I glanced at the box in his lap, wanting to ask but deciding this was his to share and he would explain when ready. “We reopened the bakery today. It was crazy but busy, and busy is good.”

“You're a smart gal. I can see that. And I bet no one can resist you.”

I laughed. “Oh, you'd be surprised.”

“So did you make good money?”

“Not bad. Made about a thousand dollars today, which will put a dent in the debt we racked up while we were closed.” I'd not spoken about the debt to anyone. Candid talk about the bakery business stressed out Rachel and Dad, so more and more I kept details to myself. It was good to speak openly.

“You'll make it work.”

“I hope.”

“Hope ain't part of the equation. It's hard work, elbow grease, and know-how that gets the job done. You're a go-getter and you don't shy from work, I can tell. You'll make it happen.”

His confidence bolstered my spirits and nervous laughter bubbled inside of me. “I sure hope you are right. There's a lot riding on the bakery.”

He smoothed his hand over the box. “You haven't asked about the box.”

My gaze flickered quickly over it. “I've been waiting for you to tell me.”

“I almost gave it to you yesterday but then decided to think on it. Parting with the Bible was hard enough.”

“It's in a safe place. And my sister is working to find Jenna's child. She can find anyone. She found you.”

Through thick glasses his eyes twinkled. “Did she?”

“She's like a ninja historian. She'll find Jenna's family.” I nodded. “What's in the box, Joey?”

With a trembling hand he removed the top. “These are Jenna's letters to Walter.”

A rush of cool air brushed up my spine. “What?”

“They was in his effects. They'd meant so much to Walter, and I couldn't let them go. Made me feel like I had them both with me. I figured I'd give them to her in person like the Bible but, well, you know the rest.”

“Did you read them?”

“I wasn't going to at first but in the days after Walter's death I was pretty low. Didn't see much reason to go on. And so I read the first letter. Didn't sit right at first but then the more I read the closer they was to me, and the easier it was to pretend she was writing to me. She had a way of speaking that made me feel at home. I read them all except the last. Came after Walter was killed, and it didn't seem right to read what he couldn't.”

“What was she like?”

“The nicest girl. But strong. She worked hard and said one day she wanted to own her own business.” His gaze seemed to go out of focus as he seemed to fall back in time. “She had a wicked sense of humor, and she loved to dance.”

He held a yellowed envelope in his hand. Jenna's handwriting, reminiscent of the recipe cards, was bold and clear, and her lines were straight as if she'd put great care into addressing it. “Did she tell Walter about the baby in her letters?”

“Not in the ones I read. But she was always telling him not to worry about her. The folks at the bakery were good to her, and she'd wait for him as long as it took.” A half smile tugged his lips. “She was smart not to tell him. He'd have worried. He'd have wanted his baby to have his name but with thousands of miles between him and Jenna there was no fixing the problem. She knew that and that's why she kept quiet. Every time he wrote her he asked her to marry him.”

“And then he died.”

He nodded. “Walter was like a brother to me. I know he went to his grave kicking and screaming. He wasn't so worried about himself but Jenna.” He shook his head. “She was like him. She'd have fought for her life even after losing Walter, for the baby's sake. Would have taken a force of nature to drag her away from this world.”

I thought of my own baby and the anguish I would feel if I were forced to leave her behind. I sat straighter, not wanting to travel that dark path. “I don't know why she put the recipe box, picture, and his dog tags in the wall.”

“Maybe she had a sense something was gonna happen. If she left a piece of her and Walter behind then she figured they'd never be forgotten.” He smiled at me. “And she was right.”

“How could she have known?”

“Walter said he thought she might have had the Sight. She seemed to know when events was gonna happen.”

That could explain the odd energy in the bakery. Jenna hadn't really left. She'd stuck around. Waiting.

Joey glanced at the letters and then nodded. “Seeing as she sent you to me, I think you should have these letters.”

Rachel had had odd sensations in the bakery while she'd been pregnant. And now I was pregnant, seeing and feeling things always closed to me before. “You really think Jenna sent me to you?”

“I know she did. You didn't find me on your own. She sent you.”

My skin tingled. “How can you say that?”

“When you get close to death the line between the living and the dead thins. You see things.”

“Like Jenna?”

He grunted and met my gaze direct. “It ain't like she strolls in here and we have conversations.”

“No. No, of course not.” I smoothed my hand over the letters. “Kinda like a whisper. A feeling.”

He nodded. “Yeah. And I feel her presence. Began weeks ago. I wasn't sure why I thought so much about Jenna and Walter. But they've been on my mind.”

“I keep sensing I need to
find him
. Do you suppose you are that him?”

“No. She liked me well enough but she loved Walter and she'd have loved their baby. Knowing Jenna she'd want you to find her kid.”

I glanced back toward the door, hoping no one was close to hear me. “What about Walter? Have you, well, heard a word from him?” I could not believe I was having this conversation.

He chuckled. “That poor slob wasn't much of a talker when he was alive. Great solid guy, always a good soldier, could follow and give orders. But when it came to conversation he wasn't the best. More of a listener. Jenna was the go-getter. The one that took risks. Knew no strangers. She went her own way otherwise she'd have lived her life on that apple farm. If we're hearing from anybody, it's gonna be her.”

The only person alive now to tell the story of Jenna and Walter was Joey, and his days on this earth were very numbered. If I was going to find Jenna's child, I had to hurry.

“Have you read her letters recently?”

“Not since she died. When I saw her grave I put them away. Didn't seem right to read them no more.”

“Do you mind if I read them? They might help me find her boy.”

He nodded. “She sent you here to get them. She wants you to find her baby. So you go on and read all you want.”

I took the box, feeling as if I'd been given a great treasure. “I'll take extra good care of these, Joey.” A frown furrowed my brow. “And if I don't find him I'll bring the letters back to you.”

“No. Keep them for good. With you at least there'll be someone alive to remember them. To remember Walter and Jenna and me.”

He settled back in his easy chair as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He appeared lighter as he nibbled his cookie.

“So can I come see you again? I want to come back.”

“I wouldn't mind a visit. Wouldn't mind it one bit. But I can't promise I'll be here.”

“Where would you go?”

He winked. “Kid, I'm ninety-seven. I ain't gonna be anywhere for much longer.”

I laughed. “Yeah, but it's not like you're gonna die real soon.”

“It's gonna be like that, kid. I can go any minute.”

A deep sadness rose up in me, and I had the sense that I was losing an old friend. “I'll be back real soon.”

“You got your bakery to run, and if I ain't lost my touch you got a kid on the way. You got a full life.”

“And you are a part of it now.”

His chin trembled a little. “That's nice. Real nice. But don't get too attached.”

I thumbed through the letters, anxious to find a quiet place to read. “Too late.”

He grunted. “Now I'm tired, and you got to go.”

He didn't sound tired. He sounded energized. “But I thought I could stay and visit. Thought we could talk about Jenna and Walter.”

“Naw. I'm not much of a talker. Hell, we covered seventy years' worth of my stored-up thoughts in two conversations. It'll take me another ten years at least to come up with more conversation.”

More laughter bubbled. “My dad is like you. Doesn't talk much.”

“Looks like you didn't inherit silence from him. Bet you could talk a man's ears off if you got rolling.”

“Actually, I'm adopted. So I didn't inherit anything from him.” Dad and I were wired much the same but I'd always likened that to luck or chance.