Part 21 (2/2)
-Muriel Sterling, Mixing Business with Pleasure: How to Successfully Balance Business and Love After two days in bed feeling like Death had put out the welcome mat, Cecily awoke on Sat.u.r.day morning to the realization that she was going to live, after all. She called Charley to let her know she'd be able to work that night. Then she enjoyed a long, hot shower followed by a breakfast of fruit and her mother's homemade white-chocolate-lavender scones. That, along with two cups of tea, left her feeling ready to get back to work. It was now almost ten in the morning. Samantha should be awake. She'd check to see how the kickoff for the Mr. Dreamy compet.i.tion had gone.
It took several rings for Samantha to answer with a weak h.e.l.lo.
”Were you still asleep?” Cecily asked. Samantha probably got in late. She should have waited to call.
”No.”
Then why did she sound so funny? ”Are you okay?”
”I have the mother of all headaches,” Samantha said. ”I think I had one too many chocolate kisses.”
There had been an inspired idea. Not that Cecily was fis.h.i.+ng for compliments or anything, but... ”How did those turn out?” Okay, so she was fis.h.i.+ng for compliments.
”Fabulous. They're also death in a gla.s.s. My head feels like somebody stomped on it.”
”How many did you have?” Her sister had never been a big drinker. It wouldn't take much to put her under the table.
”I can't remember.”
”You know, most of us get this drinking thing sorted out by the end of college.”
”Well, I'm a late bloomer.”
”Can you remember anything about last night?”
The only answer Cecily got was silence.
”Oh, no,” she groaned. ”What happened?”
”Nothing,” Samantha said irritably. ”The kickoff was a smas.h.i.+ng success with s.h.i.+rtless men and girls going wild. We'll probably have a population explosion nine months from now. And yes, I made sure to put in a plug for Sweet Dreams.”
”That's all good.”
”Yes, it's all good. Everything's good.”
”Okay,” Cecily said dubiously. ”Do you still want to work this afternoon?”
”Not particularly,” Samantha said, ”but we need to. Let's meet at the office around one. Maybe by then these rhinos stomping around in my head will have settled down for a nap.”
They ended the call and Cecily sat at the kitchen table, idly twirling a lock of hair and wondering what had happened the night before that her sister hadn't told her.
Mom came into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of tea. ”Did everything go well last night?”
”It sounds like it.” Why didn't it feel like it?
Mom sat down at the table and studied Cecily. ”Is something wrong?”
”No, I guess not.” Mom looked worried, so Cecily added, ”I'm sure everything's fine.”
Mom didn't say anything to that. She just kissed the top of Cecily's head and disappeared into her bedroom.
Cecily remained alone in the kitchen. When she'd first offered to come home and help with the festival, she'd had a vague feeling that her family needed her, that destiny was waiting for her in Icicle Falls.
So far her destiny seemed to consist of irritating her sister and running unimportant errands. As for Mom, well, all she really needed was time and that obviously wasn't something Cecily was in a position to give.
”Why am I here?” she muttered.
The cuckoo clock on the kitchen wall struck the hour and the little cuckoo popped out the door to tell her just what he thought of her. She left before he could finish.
Blake had several errands to run this morning, but a visit to his grandmother topped the list. Janice Lind was one of the town's old-timers. She'd been a young woman when Icicle Falls pulled itself from the brink of extinction by transforming a collection of boarded-up storefronts and empty streets into an alpine village. Blake's maternal grandfather, Tom, whom everybody called Swede, had been the town's only mechanic for years. He'd owned the gas station where Blake's dad worked as a teenager before he married Blake's mother and went into car sales. Even Blake had worked at the station a summer or two. Since he was the only boy in the family, both his dad and his granddad had plans for him. Gramps had wanted him to run the garage after he graduated. Dad had wanted Blake to come and work with him selling cars in Seattle. If he'd done either, he could've connected with Samantha under different circ.u.mstances. Maybe they'd have been an item by now. He frowned as he made his way up the front walk to his grandparents' cozy log home.
She must have seen him coming because he was halfway up the walk when she opened the door, a slim modern granny with a flour-dusted ap.r.o.n over her slacks and tiger-print bifocals dangling from a chain around her neck. ”This is a nice surprise,” she greeted him.
A surprise? Rather like learning he'd been entered in the Mr. Dreamy contest.
”I'm making oatmeal cookies.”
”My favorite. You must've known I was coming.”
”Well, they're almost your favorite. I'm trying out a new recipe,” she said, leading him into the kitchen. ”This one uses Sweet Dreams chocolates. I figure it can't hurt to try and impress the judges.”
He wished all Samantha Sterling needed to be impressed with him was home-baked cookies. He took a seat at the old red Formica table. Gram's kitchen always smelled great. This morning the aroma of the day was spices mixed with coffee. Not only did the place smell good, it looked like a stage for some cooking show. Everything was state-of-the-art, from the stainless-steel fridge to the ceramic-top stove. Copper pans polished to a high sheen hung from a rack over her counter, and two baking racks were stacked with man-size cookies.
She poured him a mug of coffee and set it in front of him, along with a plate of cookies. ”If they've got chocolate, I'll pa.s.s.”
”Silly,” she said, tapping his shoulder playfully. ”I made a special batch just for you. No chocolate, only raisins and nuts.”
”In that case.” He took one and stuffed half in his mouth.
”How is it?”
”Good,” he said around a mouthful of fabulous. ”Where's Gramps?”
”At the garage, doing some paperwork. And making sure the new mechanic really knows what he's doing.” She shook her head. ”Your grandpa just can't stay away from there. So much for semiretirement.”
Blake had known all along that his grandfather wouldn't ease up, no matter how many mechanics he hired. Running that garage and filling station was his pa.s.sion. Lucky guy. He'd found something he loved to do and been able to do it his whole life.
Once Blake had believed that banking was what he wanted, but life in the real world hadn't matched his vision, especially lately.
”Did the people from Sweet Dreams contact you?” his grandmother asked, bringing up the very reason he'd come. She was smiling like she'd done a wonderful thing.
”That's why I came by.”
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