“Good Lord. No.” I shook my head. “Let’s think—today is Thursday, the event is Saturday. I can make them tomorrow, along with a sheet cake for the lobby, and then drive them down in the morning.”

“That would be perfect,” Cheyenne gushed.

“I would be happy to help,” offered Frannie. “You can use the kitchen here, and we can even bring the girls in on it. You’ll have five sets of hands.”

“You’re the best, Frannie.” I smiled at her. “I’d love that.”

“So I’ll see you Saturday morning?” Cheyenne asked.

“Yes. But Cheyenne . . .” I stopped and took a breath. “I don’t want to run into Griffin. Can I just drop everything at your mom’s house?”

“Of course,” she said. “But are you sure you don’t want to just stop in and say hi? Maybe it would kick his ass into gear.”

“Feel free to take the entire day off,” Frannie said generously. “The girls and I can cover the shop.”

I shook my head. “No. He made his wishes very clear when he told me to go. Seeing him won’t help.”

Cheyenne sighed. “I understand.”

Frannie and Cheyenne invited me to have dinner with them, but I declined—I had a lot of baking to do. I did, however, ask Cheyenne if she’d mind stopping by Cloverleigh Farms before she drove home. I wanted to show her my new apartment, but I also wanted to send something back to Bellamy Creek with her.

She said she would, so after they left, I went home and baked up a batch of blueberry lemon thyme scones for Mr. Frankel. Then I ran out to the drug store and grabbed a card. I wanted to write back, thanking him for his kindness.

Dear Mr. Frankel,

What a wonderful surprise I got today! Thank you so much for sending me a letter, and for the precious gift of Betty’s apple pie recipe. I have been reading over it nonstop, and I’ve so enjoyed imagining her rolling out the crust, adding a little more of this or that to the filling, brushing the top with cream and sprinkling the sugar on top. I cannot wait to try it out this weekend.

I understand completely your reasons for keeping the recipe close to your heart, and I do not believe anyone would blame you. I certainly don’t. But I also love that you’re looking toward the future now rather than clinging to the past. You deserve a lot more happy days!

Get that historic walk all planned out—I hereby request you take me on it someday. Bellamy Creek is such a lovely place, and I think of it often. I hope you enjoy these scones and think of me fondly.

You take care of yourself, my friend.

Sincerely,

Blair Beaufort

P.S. I like thinking of us both as works in progress. If we were already masterpieces, there would be nothing to do!

I sealed the card inside the envelope and slipped it beneath the string of the cardboard bakery box full of scones.

When Cheyenne arrived, she marveled over my carriage house home, took a walk with me across the grounds, peeked inside the inn and winery, and gave me a tight goodbye hug in the driveway. “I’m so glad to see you doing so well,” she said.

“Thanks. I really do love it here.”

“But . . .” she said as she released me, because she knew.

“But I miss him.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “I keep waiting for the morning I wake up and he’s not the first thing I think about. Or the night when he’s not the last thing. I know it’s only been a week or so since I left him, but it just feels like this ache is never going to go away.”

She sighed. “Don’t give up, okay?”

My throat closed. “I don’t want to feel this way forever.”

“You won’t.” She bit her lip. “I shouldn’t tell you this, because he’d string me up by my toes if he found out, but then again, he’s the one being a big jerk. And I have gone over the conversation again and again, and I swear he didn’t specifically tell me not to tell you.”

Dizzy, I shook my head. “I speak three languages and I’m still not sure what you just said.”

She took a breath and closed her eyes a second. “Griffin had the parts for your car for over a week before he put them in.”

My mouth fell open. “What?”

“He didn’t install them because he didn’t want you to go.”

“I don’t believe it!”

“Believe it. McIntyre found them, confronted him, and he admitted it. Oh, he made up some bullshit story about wanting to surprise you, but we both know what’s what. McIntyre told Emily, Emily told me, and I asked him if it was true.”

“And he said it was?”

She nodded. “He did. He was pissed as hell that his secret was out, but he didn’t deny it. He was falling for you, Blair,” she said. “And when he realized it, he panicked and retreated, just like Frannie said. Because he thinks that will be easier than taking a chance on love again.”

Of course, I knew there was more to it than that, but Griffin had told me things in confidence I’d never whisper to another soul. “Maybe.”

“I only hope he gets over himself before it’s too late. I mean, look at this place.” She held out her arms and glanced around. “It’s beautiful here. You have a great job. You’ve got a built-in family. And pretty soon, some guy is going to come walking into that coffee shop, eat a bite of that strata, and fall to his knees. It’ll be too late for Griffin.”

I sighed. “Part of me hopes you’re right.”

“And the other part?”

“That would be my heart.” Smiling sadly, I lifted my shoulders. “And it’s set on someone I can’t have.”

Twenty-Three

Griffin

Since the league championship would be played on Saturday of Labor Day weekend, we didn’t have a game on Thursday. Instead, the team got together for an extra practice, during which we felt pretty good. We were confident our last game had been an aberration and looked forward to decimating the Mavs in this weekend’s matchup.

Well, most of us were looking forward to it. I couldn’t seem to work up much excitement about anything these days. Not even baseball.

On Friday after work, I went over to Cole’s house for a run. When I got there, Mariah was jump-roping in the driveway.

“Hey, kiddo,” I said. “What’s new?”

She shrugged. “Nothing much. Lots of my friends are out of town for the holiday weekend, so I’m kind of bored.”

“Well, there’s going to be lots to do tomorrow. We’re having a big party at the garage.”

Her face lit up. “I know. Miss Cheyenne asked me if I wanted to help her run the cakewalk. I’m going to play the music.”

“Perfect. We’ll need lots of help, because we’re going to be really busy. I hope.” I crossed my fingers and held them up.

Cole came out a minute later, and we set off at our warm-up pace.

“How was your week?” he asked.

“Fine,” I answered.

A total lie. I’d been miserable since Blair left. It had been ten days, and every one of them seemed more lifeless and flat. Just twenty-four hours to get through before another one started over again. There were no bright spots whatsoever.