Julia’s eyes danced. “You will never believe who is back in town!”
Emily smiled as she measured out a cup of flour, then diced a stick of cold butter and pulsed the mixture in the food processor with a teaspoon each of sugar and salt. This was a little game of theirs, and even at their age, it was endlessly amusing, adding a bit of suspense to an otherwise routine life. Julia would come home with a juicy bit of gossip, usually about who was dating whom, and question by question, Emily would narrow it down until the titillating conclusion was reached. Sadly, on this occasion, there was no buildup of clues; Emily already knew the answer.
“Scott Collins,” she said and immediately wished she had just played along when she saw Julia’s face fall with disappointment.
“You knew?” she cried. “And here I nearly shook you awake last night to tell you!”
“He came into the bakery yesterday,” Emily said.
“Did you speak to him?” Julia’s eyes were wide with interest. “What was he like?”
Emily heaved a sigh. “Not much different than I remembered,” she admitted, catching the wistful edge to her tone.
“Still a hunk then, huh?” Julia dipped her finger into the sugar canister, and Emily rolled her eyes.
“Still a hunk, as you so delicately put it.”
Julia regarded her for a long moment, a dreamy look creeping over her face, as if she were lost in time, clinging to a memory. “Sorry,” she said, straightening herself. “I know it’s a touchy subject.”
“I was seventeen,” Emily reminded her. “It didn’t mean anything.” Clearly.
“Well, it meant something to me.” Julia lifted her chin, her eyes suddenly darkening at the memory. ”I still haven’t forgotten the way he took off without so much as a goodbye.”
“Really?” Emily narrowed her gaze in mock confusion. “Because you seemed to have completely forgotten about that episode when you came bounding in here two minutes ago.” She flashed her sister a rueful grin as she formed the dough into a disk and wrapped it in cellophane. She set it in the fridge to chill, swapping it for one that had cooled, and plucked her rolling pin from the drawer beneath the stove.
“Well, I admit, I did get a little swept up in the memory of how handsome he was,” Julia explained, and Emily bit her lip to keep from laughing. “But the truth is that he treated you like a first-rate jerk, leaving you like that, without any explanation.”
They were supposed to have gone to a movie the next night. Emily could still remember sitting on the steps of her front porch, waiting. She’d called his house, worried he might be sick or worse—that he’d had an accident. It was a fear of hers ever since she was little, since her father had died. Instead she was told in clipped tones by Scott’s father that he was gone. He’d left town the night before, and they didn’t know when he’d be back. If he’d be back. And he never did come back. Until now.
Emily shrugged off the twinge of hurt with a smile. “Please, Julia. That was ancient history. We were kids.”
Julia watched her carefully. “If you say so.”
“Are you accusing me of still pining after Scott Collins?”
Julia tipped her head. “I just thought that you would be interested to know he was back in town. That’s all.” She paused. “So...is he married?”
“No,” Emily said, stirring more forcefully.
“And you know this—”
“Because he told me,” Emily huffed, whipping around to face her sister. “Because I asked, okay. I...asked.” It was a normal question, she told herself, but probably not when it was posed to the man whom she had once imagined an entire future with. His answer had filled her with a surge of hope that had no business being there.
A spark passed through Julia’s bright green eyes. “Huh. Interesting.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” Julia shrugged. “Nothing at all.” She smiled conspiratorially and then breezed out the door, as if there was nothing left of the subject to discuss.
Emily shook her head and chuckled softly. Leave it to her sister to get carried away with Scott’s reemergence and the impact it might have on her. Of course she was interested to know that Scott was back. More interested than she should be. And that was just the problem.
* * *
Before she left the house, Emily took extra care in brushing her hair and selecting just the right shade of lipstick. It was silly, she knew, and she was probably jinxing herself with the effort, but if there was a chance of seeing Scott again today, she wanted to be ready.
Let him see what he’s been missing.
“Well, don’t you look pretty today!” Lucy proclaimed as Emily pushed through the back door of the bakery into the kitchen.
Emily shrugged off the compliment with a wry grin and tied an apron around her waist. “What’s the plan for day two?”
Lucy regarded her suspiciously for a lingering moment and then, with a lift of her brow, changed the subject. Emily made a mental note to swipe off her lipstick the first chance she had. She felt suddenly self-conscious and foolish and overly aware of herself. She had never liked being the center of attention, and here she was, trying to be front and center in Scott’s mind.
“Mayor Pearson agreed to the pie toss,” Lucy said, and Emily smiled. Flyers and word of mouth went far in a small town such as this, but a little promotion helped with a new business, too. “I’m hoping it will pull in more customers today.”
“I’m sure it will help get the word out.” Emily thought of how the mayor prided himself on Maple Woods’s sense of community. “People might love him, but I doubt few would resist the chance to see him covered in whipped cream.”
“I’m hoping so.” Lucy studied her inventory list. “A fresh shipment of apricots arrived this morning, so let’s use those up where we can.”
Emily carefully removed the three pies she had baked that morning from their boxes. “I made a pear-and-cherry tart this morning.” She began plating it for display. “I’ll start prepping a few apricot pies next. A lattice crust would be nice for those, don’t you think?”
“What would I do without you?” Lucy said on a sigh of content.
Emily lowered her head, unable to answer the question knowing the information she was withholding, and pulled a canister of flour off the shelf, waiting for the wave of guilt to subside. She was getting ahead of herself, she finally reasoned. There was nothing to feel bad about yet. She might not even get into that school in Boston. There was no use getting worked up over something that might never even happen.
Feeling slightly better, she went about her task as Lucy brewed coffee, the pair working in companionable silence for a while until Emily finally dared to observe, “So...Scott’s back in town.”
Lucy whipped around. “Can you believe
