“You can do it on your own time at your own pace.”
Megs took the phone and read the screen, then gave a shrug. “What own time? With Grammy gone, it’s all on me. I won’t have time to breathe much less take a class. I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can.” Kelly walked over to her sister and took her phone back, slipping it into one of the front pockets of her apron. “You can do anything. Especially if you have help.”
Her sister stared at her with undisguised skepticism. “Who’s going to help me?”
Kelly took a deep breath and pointed at her chest. “Me.”
Megs laughed as she scooted away to retrieve the stack of dry trays that needed to be stored away. She continued to chortle while she placed them on the shelves. Kelly frowned. “It’s not that funny.”
“You don’t know the first thing about the science of baking. Or what it requires to create a superior product.”
There was a science to it? She’d barely passed that particular class more than once. “Okay, so I don’t.” Kelly narrowed her eyes. “But you do. And so do Gina and Tom. Surely there’s something I can do to lend a hand around here.”
Her sister grimaced and put her hands on her waist. “And what about Nashville?”
“I’ve been thinking about that for the past few days, and Nashville will still be there once you get the bakery going again.” She hoped the panic that rose in her chest wouldn’t show on her face. She would go back to her singing, eventually, but it wouldn’t hurt to take some time to assist Megs. Or make it something more permanent. She frowned. “Besides, it could be time for me to come back home. Give up that pipe dream.”
Megs shook her head. “Oh, no. No way. If I have to keep Grammy’s bakery dream alive, then you have to keep pursuing your music.”
“Maybe I’m done with music. Or maybe it’s done with me. You heard what happened at the funeral when I tried to sing.” She’d barely been able to choke out the words after being rescued by her sister and the congregation. “Are you actually turning down my help? After everything you’ve said to me about not doing my fair share?”
For a long moment, the swish of Sam’s mop was the only sound that could be heard, until Megs sighed. “Fine.” She held up one finger. “But it’s only temporary. Grammy would never forgive me if I let you give up on your talent.”
“Don’t you think she’d appreciate that I’m helping you, so that you don’t?”
Sam pushed through the swinging doors. “It’s all set up front. Do you need my help back here?”
Megs and Kelly kept their eyes on each other rather than turning to face him. Sam asked, “Uh. Am I interrupting something?”
Megs gave him a quick smile. “Thanks for staying and cleaning up.”
Sam grinned. “Have to be honest. It wasn’t without an ulterior motive.”
Of course, Kelly thought. No one ever helped out for free. She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for him to continue. All of a sudden, he looked sheepish. “I was hoping to take home some of those leftover cheese croissants for my breakfast tomorrow.”
Megs’s smile widened and she hurried to retrieve a white paper bag. She took several pieces of wax paper and carefully wrapped three rolls. Once they were inside the bag, she folded the top over a couple of times and then handed it to him. “Payment in kind. Thanks again for your assistance.”
He clutched the bag to his heart. “I’m getting the better end of this deal.” He peered around the kitchen. “Are you done in here? I’ll follow you two back home.”
Kelly couldn’t stifle a yawn. “I’m done in. Megs?”
She shook her head and swept a look around the kitchen. “You two go ahead. I have something I need to do. Alone.”
Kelly put her hand on her sister’s arm. “It can wait until tomorrow, can’t it?”
She felt someone pulling at her other hand. Sam.
“Let’s give her some time. I’ll get you back to the house.”
She took her hand away from his, then watched her sister who was fussing with canisters and some cutlery on the marble counter. Megs waved her off. “Go. I’ll be five, maybe ten minutes behind you.”
Kelly retrieved her sweater from the hook by the back door as well as her purse then followed Sam out to his pickup. She waited while he hit the button on his key fob to unlock the doors. She turned to look at the bakery. When Sam got in on the driver’s side, she got into the passenger seat, but kept her gaze out the window. “Do you think she’ll be okay there alone?”
“She’ll be fine.” He started the truck and it growled to life. “I think she needs to say goodbye to your grandmother in her own way. She’s afraid that she’s going to lose the bakery without Addy.”
“She mentioned that. Yes.”
He drove down Main Street in the direction of the farmhouse. “What about you? Isn’t there something besides singing that you’ve wanted to do?”
“Never. If you don’t keep your focus on this business, then you miss opportunities. There’s no room for doubts.”
“There are other careers out there.”
“Not for me.” She reached over and snapped on the radio. A mournful male voice sang about letting go of regrets. She switched it off. “You think you know Megs so well, and me. I’m telling you that you have no idea.”
He glanced at her, then back to the road. “I’m starting to realize that.”
He pulled into the driveway and parked the truck near the garage. The faint lights from the dashboard sent splashes of blue and red over the hard planes of his face. She ignored it before she did something crazy like reach out and touch those sharp cheekbones and strong jaw.
She swallowed hard. What was wrong with her? This was Saint Sam, the man who was supposedly the second love of her grandmother’s life. He wasn’t a potential love interest for herself though. He probably thought of her like a sister, anyway, like he did with Megs. If that’s even what he really thought about her.
He put his arm across the back of the bench seat. “Kelly.”
She twisted to face him and wished for a moment that he could be more than a family friend. He was more than handsome. And he’d been so sweet during all this funeral business. Some of Grammy’s effusive compliments for him seemed to be true. The potential of more hung in the air between them for a moment, but she broke the tension and held out her hand. “Good night, Sam. Thank you for the ride home.”
He slid his warm hand into hers and held on to it. “If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m available. Call or text me anytime.”
“I don’t have your number.”
He took her phone sticking out from the top of her purse and typed in his phone number. “Now you do. And I mean it. Anytime.”
