“No. She wants to be, however.”
“Have you tried what she’s made?”
I grit my teeth. The answer to that is a no. She never finished the cookies while I was there, and that’s because I was very good at distracting her.
“She’s very focused on her work, Greta. I’m sure she can provide samples if you want them, but I have the utmost faith in her. She takes her baking very seriously, and she needs a job in town. I’m betting she’d be a very hard worker for you.”
Greta crosses her arms. “I know how you and the Crumbles are. You fellas know hard workers when you see them. Go tell her to come by, Rainier, and to bring a sample of what she can do. If she’s remotely as dedicated as you’re suggesting, I’m sure she’ll be a great student and a great asset to our bakery.”
I sigh, and nod. “Thank you, Greta. This means a lot to me, and it’ll mean a lot to her.”
“Given she isn’t family, I’m betting she means a lot to you?”
I nod. “She means the world to me, and I want to help her however I can in pursuing her dreams.”
“Go get her, Rainier. She can’t have gotten far,” Greta smiles. Apparently even she noticed the brief chemistry that had arisen between me and the girl who abruptly dashed out of her store.
“I don’t know, Greta, she’s full of surprises. And I still gotta bring my mother’s donuts to her.”
“All in a day’s work for a Crumble.”
I take the box, and head for my truck. After a brief stop back home, I’m going to go tell Sugar the news, and hope that a path toward her career, and her destiny, will be all she needs to accept that yes, good things can happen to her.
Because while I’m not being dramatic as she is about it, goddamn, I need her.
10
SUGAR
I return to my cabin after getting my coffee and sweets from a chain place.
They aren’t as good. I’m pretty sure I could have made better brownies.
I could have made better coffee too for that matter, and I barely know much more than putting grinds and water in a coffee maker and waiting.
I pace about. I don’t feel like doing much else. Snow is coming down, and I don’t really see much I want to do in town anyway.
At this point I just want to watch TV and zone out. Maybe order pizza just so I don’t have to break up my zoning out by attempting to cook something I’m not going to remotely enjoy anyway.
I slip off my shoes, grab a quilt, and snuggle up on the couch, remote in hand. Then I remember I haven’t watched actual TV in ages, and I need to dig out my password to get onto my service.
It’s always something, and right now I’m in the mood where every minor inconvenience feels earth-shatteringly terrible.
While I’m contemplating just staring at the ceiling for the next twelve hours, I hear the doorbell ring.
The desire to stare at the ceiling is still strong, but the doorbell continues to ring.
Finally, I give in. I throw off the quilt and stand up, heading to the door.
My heart does a simultaneous flutter of hope and agonizing sting.
It’s Rainier.
I open the door for him. “What are you doing here?”
He laughs. It feels insulting right now, so I turn red, only this time it’s not from blushing.
“I’m here to try your cookie, Sugar.”
I cross my arms. “My cookie? You got a lot of nerve showing up like this. I told you I wasn’t in a good place to be making decisions like that, and here you are trying to make the decision for me.”
More laughter, and he shakes his head. “Oh, that cookie? I’ve already tried it, and it’s absolutely delicious, Sugar. No, no, this time I’m talking about your literal cookies. I never got to try your baking. We got sidetracked with other things, and you kicked me out before we finished dinner so I never got my dessert.”
“Did you really come up here just because you wanted my sugar cookies?”
“In a way, yes.”
He tries to push his way in, but I stop him. “Explain yourself. Plain words. As funny as all of this is, I’d like to know what’s going on.”
He sighs, and nods. “You’re right, Sugar. Look, I listened to what you said. How your mother screwed you, and how anxious you are because of it. How you’re struggling to trust anyone right now. Well, I’m here to prove that I care and to try to set you up to be your own woman.”
“What do you mean?”
“That bakery you ran away from this morning? I’m friends with the women who own it. Greta is eight months pregnant and is going to need help managing the bakery soon. They need a dedicated baker, Sugar. They want to actually try the fruits of your labor first, but I told them I have complete faith in you. You seem so dedicated to your baking.”