its pencil perch.
Aunt Betty swiped at her eyes and worked a smile to her face. “Well, no more of that. I can just hear Eli now. ‘Mama, save your crying for another day. The sun is out, and that’s reason enough to smile.’”
“I swear, I never saw him depressed a day in his life.”
Aunt Betty’s smile wobbled. “He brought everyone who knew him a lot of joy. I’m sure he’s got every angel in heaven laughing as we speak.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it for a second. Probably pranking the Holy Ghost, too.”
That made Aunt Betty laugh. “True, so true.” She drew back and eyed Meri. “How are you doing, honey pie?”
The concern made tears well in Meri’s eyes. Her aunt understood her so well, a thousand times better than Anna Lee ever had. “I’m doing fine. Especially now that I’m back in town.”
“To stay?”
Meri shook her head. “To visit. Eventually I’ll need to get back to my photography job.” Assuming, that was, that she could ever get over her fears to do her job. She’d hoped that coming here, where the world seemed put to rights, would give her back the magic she had lost.
“I saw some of your photographs in a magazine, and Eli used to send them to me over the computer all the time. Such amazing talent you have, Meri.” Aunt Betty beamed.
“Eli shared them with you?”
“Of course. He was proud as punch that his cousin was taking the world by storm in the big city. Thought you were the next Ansel Adams. Can’t say I disagreed.”
Meri reached out and drew her aunt into a tight, warm hug. “Thank you, Aunt Betty. That means a lot, coming from you.”
The unspoken message—Anna Lee would have to be on her deathbed to say such a thing. There were many days when Meri wondered how her life would have been different had she been born into Aunt Betty and Uncle George’s house instead of Anna Lee’s castle on Cherrystone.
As if reading Meri’s mind, Aunt Betty shifted the conversation to Anna Lee. “Word has it that you’re staying out at Ray’s, in the guest cottage. Your mother is positively mortified. She feels like you’re, and I quote, ‘besmirching the family’s good name’ by refusing her hospitality.”
“I didn’t refuse. I made another choice.”
Betty cupped Meri’s face with her generous palms. Unlike her mother, Betty didn’t flinch away from Meri’s scar, and in fact, barely seemed to give it notice. “A good choice. Don’t let my sister push you around. Lord knows she’s been trying to do that since the day you were born. I swear, if she could have, she’d have told the doctor how to arrange the maternity ward and what temperature to warm the formula.”
Meri gave Betty another hug, then drew back. “Thanks, Aunt Betty.”
“Anytime.” Betty swung back behind the counter and readied a white box. “Let me guess. You’re here for Ray’s daily muffin supply?”
“Yup. Then heading to Uncle George’s to pick up Grandpa’s favorite sandwich for dinner. I tried to talk him into some salmon with a side of spinach, but he was having none of that. Said the only thing that makes him feel better is Uncle George’s sandwiches for supper and your muffins in the morning.”
“Ray’s a smart man. But not smart enough to know I make those muffins with whole wheat flour and add some flaxseed to the sandwich bread.” Betty loaded a quartet of muffins into the box, closed the lid, then tied it with thin red string. “And what are you getting for you?”
“Oh, I shouldn’t.” The response came like a Pavlovian reflex.
“Yes, you should. And you can. And don’t tell me about calories or fat grams or any of that nonsense. Food is meant to be enjoyed, not ignored. And besides, you deserve it. Why, I bet you already dealt with your mother today.”
Meri nodded. “It was as much fun as I expected.”
“Then all the more reason to indulge. Talking to Anna Lee will drive you to either sugar or pharmaceuticals. My vote is for sugar.” Betty placed a chocolate cupcake covered with fluffy pink frosting in front of Meri. “Cupcakes are like good men. Taste them, savor them and never, ever ignore them or someone else will eat them right up.” She nudged the cupcake closer. “So, come on now, quick as a bunny, take a bite.”
Meri picked up the dessert, inhaling the rich notes of the chocolate and the sweet confection of the raspberry frosting. She hesitated, then blew out a breath and sank her teeth into the side. Frosting curved on her lip, chocolate cake crumbs dusted her chin, but the bite in her mouth melted like heaven against her palate. She zeroed in for a second bite, then paused when the shop door’s bell rang.
And Jack walked into the bakery.
She turned part of the way toward him, the cupcake cradled in one hand, the frosting on her lip. He caught her eye, and something warm and dark extended between them, a whisper of a memory that bloomed in her mind.
Jack, tempting her with a cupcake, the day before a pageant. Telling her the contraband treat would be worth every bite. She’d refused, shaking her head, her body quivering with desire for him, for the chocolate, for everything that she had denied herself for years. Then he’d swiped a dollop of frosting off the top, placed it against her lips, and she’d opened her mouth to taste it, to taste him. Jack’s gaze had captured hers, and in that next instant, the cupcake was forgotten, and she was tasting his mouth, his body, him.
He’d been the one to end it that day, pulling away from her, telling her she was right, that she had a pageant to prepare for, and she needed to focus on that. Even then, a week before they’d broken up, he’d been drawing the line in the sand between them.
Aunt Betty greeted him, and Jack said hello back, but his attention stayed on Meri.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
His gaze flicked to Betty, then away, and a shade dropped over his features. She could see him shutting the door, clear as day. Typical Jack—shut her out to whatever was going on inside his head.
“I’m surprised you’re still in town,” Jack said, instead of answering her question.
She bristled. “I just got here, Jack. I’m not going anywhere for a while.”
“Good.”
The single word surprised her, undid the ready fight in her head. “Why do you say that?”
“Because Ray won’t admit he needs a mother hen, but he does. And you’re the perfect person to tell him what to do.”
“Are you saying I’m bossy?”
A half smile curved across his face. “Darlin’, you’ve always been bossy.”
Something about the way he said darlin’ sent heat fissuring through her and made her think of the hot summer nights they’d spent together as teenagers, when temptation was their constant companion.
“I see you still love cupcakes,” Jack said, taking
