The Clause in Christmas Page 15

  “I think a season of change is coming,” Maggie murmured, breaking the stillness. “For all of us.”

  Chapter 19

  As Cassie poured herself another cup of coffee, she realized she hadn’t stopped smiling all morning. Since reading A Christmas Carol the previous day, the impact of her epiphany had been settling in, creating a seismic shift in her heart and mind. Staying in Poppy Creek would change so much more than her address. It would change her entire life! And the one area where it scared and excited Cassie the most was her relationship with Luke. What would it mean for them? And what would he say when she told him the news?

  Cassie’s smile faltered as her hand shot to the necklace at her throat. She spun the heart charm, tightening the delicate chain as her mind raced with possibilities. What if Luke no longer had feelings for her? Or what if he couldn’t forgive her for running away the night they’d kissed?

  Releasing the charm, Cassie took a long sip of coffee, allowing the soothing liquid to calm her racing pulse as it tingled against her taste buds. Before she told Luke—and any of her hopes or fears became a reality—Cassie needed a plan. She’d still have to sell the cottage to put her mother through rehab. Which meant Cassie needed to find a new place to live as soon as possible.

  Finishing off her third cup of coffee, Cassie scrolled through property listings on her phone. She wasn’t surprised to find Poppy Creek didn’t have a single apartment complex. But rental properties in general were practically nonexistent. She’d have to broaden her search to surrounding towns, which wasn’t ideal. Especially if she’d be working at Maggie’s Place.

  Cassie glanced at the time, and her heart skittered in anticipation. At that exact moment, Maggie would be flipping the sign in the bakery’s front window to Open.

  Swallowing the last drop of coffee, Cassie rinsed her favorite mug in the sink and set it on a dish towel to dry. As she reached for her car keys on the kitchen island, she caught sight of the Christmas Calendar. She quickly thumbed the pages to the day’s date.

  December 13: Have a Snowball Fight.

  Cassie’s gaze darted to the window. All of yesterday’s snow had melted into puddles. Panic gripped her chest as she circled back to the Calendar, double-checking the day’s entry.

  The words remained unchanged.

  How could this be happening? Up until that moment, the activities had been perfectly aligned with the weather, as if her grandmother were orchestrating the forecast from a perch in the clouds. But this time the Calendar was off by an entire day.

  Cassie’s knees weakened and she leaned against the counter, her pulse increasing as quickly as her doubts. After all she’d been through, could this one mishap ruin everything?

  She needed to talk to Luke. He might know what to do. But what would she say? She owed him an apology. And an explanation. She couldn’t go to him for help before she fixed things between them. But how exactly would she do that?

  Cassie massaged her fingertips against her temple, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. Maybe the Calendar would work itself out? After all, there was still time for it to snow again.

  Strangers things had happened in Poppy Creek than snowfall two days in a row.

  All Cassie needed to do was give the Calendar more time.

  And maybe time would help her figure out what to say to Luke.

  As Cassie walked the few feet from her car to Maggie’s Place, she kept one eye on the sky. Nothing but miles of periwinkle blue dotted with frothy white clouds. Still, Cassie told herself not to panic. She still had plenty of time.

  “Good morning, dear,” Maggie greeted her with a rosy smile. “Aren’t you bright and early today.”

  Cassie didn’t even wait for Maggie to finish sliding the last cinnamon roll into the case before skipping around the counter and enveloping her in a hug.

  Maggie laughed. “And in a bright and chipper mood, too.”

  Pulling back, Cassie beamed at the older woman who’d become more of a mother to her in a short amount of time than her own flesh and blood. “Maggie, is your job offer still available?”

  “Of course!” Maggie’s eyes widened. “Are you saying—”

  Cassie threw her arms around her again. “Yes!”

  As Maggie squeezed her back, Cassie closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of cinnamon and sugar, suddenly overcome with emotion. “Thank you, thank you,” she murmured, close to tears.

  “What’s going on?” Eliza burst through the kitchen door with a fresh batch of gingerbread scones. “Why are you crying? Did—” Realization flashed in Eliza’s dark eyes and she carelessly tossed the baking sheet onto the counter as she cried, “You’re taking the job!”

  Pulling back, Cassie swiped her damp cheeks. “I am.”

  Eliza squealed and tackled Cassie in a bear hug.

  Giggling, Cassie squeezed her back. “I still have a few things to figure out. So, I probably won’t be able to officially start until after Christmas.”

  “I can’t believe you’re staying!” Eliza cheered, hopping up in down in her excitement. “This is the best news ever.”

  “It certainly is.” Maggie’s eyes sparkled with happy tears. “We should celebrate.”

  Just then the bell jingled, signaling their first customer of the day. Maggie excused herself after hugging Cassie one more time.

  “Have you told Luke?” Eliza whispered, pulling Cassie off to the side.

  Blushing, Cassie stared at the scuffed hardwood floor. “Not yet.”

  “Then let’s go find him! I bet he’s at his office already.”

  “Wait,” Cassie said quickly, placing a hand on her arm. “Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “I, uh, have a few things to take care of first.”

  “Like what?” Eliza planted one hand on her hip, both eyebrows raised.

  “Well, I’d like to get a few things in order first. Like talking to Frank about serving his coffee.”

  “Really?” Eliza’s eyes lit up as though she’d already forgotten all about telling Luke. “Do you think he’ll say yes?”

  “Maybe. I hope so.” Cassie hadn’t thought it all the way through yet, but she felt hopeful. “I also have to figure out what I’m going to do about the Christmas Calendar.”

  “What do you mean?”

  As Cassie glanced toward the front window, her stomach twisted. Rays of sunlight danced across the tabletops, reflecting off the crystal vases filled with holly leaves and red carnations. “I’m trying not to panic yet, but today’s activity is a snowball fight. And we’re fresh out of snow.”

  Eliza frowned. “Yikes. That’s not good.”

  “To put it mildly,” Cassie agreed.

  Eliza steepled her fingers and pressed them to her lips, her eyes scrunched shut in concentration.

  Cassie waited patiently until Eliza’s eyes popped open and she grinned mischievously. “I have a feeling this afternoon’s forecast will show heavy snowfall.”

  “But how—” Cassie started as Eliza grabbed her hand.

  “Come on. I’ll show you my idea.”

  Luke shifted Ben’s Captain America backpack to his other shoulder, grateful Ben’s school let out early, necessitating Luke pick him up for Eliza. Besides giving them “guy time,” hanging out with Ben provided a momentary distraction.

  Luke needed to clear the air with Cassie soon. Even though he still had no idea what to say. But aside from his own feelings, he had a job to do. And he couldn’t let another day pass without finding out if she’d completed the necessary activities on the Christmas Calendar.

  What Luke needed was some sort of peace offering—a way to move past the awkwardness of the kiss. Then, with a little more time, he could try again.

  Luke smiled, recalling his parents’ unconventional love story.

  Some things take time…

  His mother’s words had looped in his mind ever since their conversation. Luke didn’t mind being patient. But come Christmas Day, he’d be out of time.


  “So, are you ready for the pageant in a few days?” Luke asked, diverting his own complicated thoughts. “Did you memorize all your lines?”

  Ben nodded, kicking a pinecone across the grass. “Nanna’s been practicing with me. She said acting is in my blood. Gross.”

  He made such a comical face, Luke laughed. “She means you’re a natural. Your grandma was a big-time actress before moving to Poppy Creek.”

  “I know,” Ben said matter-of-factly. “She tells me all the time.”

  Luke stifled another chuckle. Before he could ask Ben to share some of his lines, Ben shouted, “Look! It’s Mom and Cassie!”

  Following the direction of Ben’s outstretched finger, Luke spotted Eliza and Cassie waiting for them in the middle of the town square.

  Luke froze mid-stride, the mere sight of Cassie turning his insides to mush. What were they doing out here? Squinting, Luke tried to make out the objects they were holding.

  “Send us your youngest,” Eliza bellowed in a dramatic, warrior-like tone.

  Ben giggled. “That’s me! That’s me!” He raised his hand, waving it over his head before racing toward his mother.

  Luke watched, completely baffled, as Eliza whispered something in Ben’s ear. Then she pointed at two lumpy objects nestled in the grass, which Ben quickly scooped up in both arms.

  As he trotted back toward Luke, the mystery items came into focus. Two sacks of flour made from tightly woven cotton fabric, each with bold lettering that read Samuel Ball’s Snow White Flour.

  “This one’s yours.” Snickering, Ben handed Luke a sack of flour.

  “What’s it for?”

  Ben giggled again, but didn’t say anything as he untied the string cinching his sack closed.

  Still confused, Luke called out, “Eliza, what in the world is—”

  But before he had a chance to finish his question, Eliza roared, “Charge!” and she and Cassie bolted across the field. In a matter of seconds, they were bombarded with fistfuls of flour.

  Ben squealed, tearing across the lawn with Eliza in quick pursuit.

  Cassie’s laughter mingled with the billowy cloud of white powder, and as the dust settled, Luke caught sight of her brilliant smile.

  “You’d better get it together, Sprinkles. Or you’re going to lose this snowball fight,” she teased, holding up a handful of flour. Her green eyes sparkled with mischief, but something in her purposeful gaze communicated so much more than her words.

  And in that moment, Luke realized the playful fight was actually a white flag.

  Chapter 20

  When Frank opened the front door, he nearly fell over in surprise.

  Cassie grinned, realizing she must be quite the sight, covered head to toe in flour. She’d done her best to brush most of it off, but she still looked like a loaf of artisan bread.

  Without mentioning her odd appearance, Frank pushed the door open a few more inches, grumbling, “About time you showed up.”

  “I’m sorry it took so long,” Cassie said, forgoing the excuses. “But I think you’ll be pleased with what I have to say.”

  Frank held up a finger, indicating she should wait. Then, waving for her to follow, he led her down the hallway to his study. He shuffled to his desk and eased into the fancy, ergonomic chair while Cassie hovered by his side.

  The laptop flickered to life as Frank put on a pair of reading glasses. “I’d ask you to sit down, but you appear to be coated in more flour than fried chicken.”

  Cassie giggled. “It’s a long story.”

  Frank narrowed his gaze over the rim of his glasses, clearly not amused. Or interested. “What did you think of the coffee I gave you?”

  So, he was going to get right to the point, was he? Well, so could she. “Frank, is this for your book? The second edition, I mean.” Cassie held her breath, fully expecting him to sidestep her question.

  But to her surprise, he pushed back his glasses and rubbed his eyes, mumbling, “Apparently, one best seller isn’t enough. The publisher wants more. And they want me to include specific blends this time. Seems no one can think for themselves these days.”

  Cassie offered a sympathetic smile, her hunch confirmed. “For what it’s worth, I think a second edition is a great idea. And you should definitely include the blend you gave me. It was the best coffee I’ve ever had, by far.”

  After readjusting his glasses, Frank poised his fingers over the keyboard. “What flavor notes did you notice?”

  Beaming proudly, Cassie pulled up the Notes app on her phone and set it on the desk. “I followed a basic cupping method and jotted down each score.”

  Surprise, then something vaguely resembling admiration, flickered across Frank’s face. But he quickly reset his features in his trademark stony expression. “Good.”

  The click-clack of the keyboard filled the silence as Frank transferred the information from her phone into an open document.

  Cassie chewed her bottom lip, the question she’d been dying to ask gnawing at her stomach. She drew in a deep breath. “Frank… I’ve been wondering… Why ask me? About the coffee, I mean. It’s not like you need a second opinion. You’re Richard Stanton, after all. The number one authority on all things coffee.”

  His fingertips froze over the keys, his strained features highlighted in the blueish glow of the computer screen. After a moment, he reached into the top right drawer of his desk and withdrew a tiny orange pill bottle. He handed it to her, then resumed typing.

  Confused, Cassie turned it over in her hand, the pills rattling inside the plastic container as she tried to make sense of what he’d given her. She didn’t recognize the name on the label or anything else about the prescription. Although it appeared to be some sort of heart medication.

  When she finally scanned the fine print stipulating the side effects, she winced.

  May affect sense of taste.

  Cassie’s gaze flew to Frank’s face, which remained unreadable. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her heart aching for him.

  “I’m not dying,” he snapped before softening slightly. “It comes and goes. But…” His voice trailed off and Cassie noticed the droop in his shoulders.

  Cassie—perhaps more so than anyone—knew exactly what it would mean for Frank to lose his sense of taste, a coffee roaster’s most coveted tool. An exceptional palate was a gift. One that could elevate you far beyond the rest of the industry.

  Fighting back compassionate tears, Cassie forced a smile. “My taste buds are at your disposal anytime.”

  Giving her a skeptical side-eye, he asked, “Have you ever roasted before?”

  “Once. But it was a drum roaster.”

  Frank snorted. “Whatever knucklehead invented that monstrosity should never be allowed to touch another coffee bean in his life.”

  “They’re that bad?” Cassie asked, amused by his intense reaction.

  “Let me ask you something,” Frank said with a stern glare. “Would you cook a ten-pound turkey on a frying pan?”

  Cassie frowned. “No…”

  “Of course, you wouldn’t! The bottom would get scorched, leaving the rest of it raw. You need the circulating heat of an oven. Any fool knows that.”

  Cassie suppressed a laugh. “So, a drum roaster is the frying pan and the air roaster is the oven?”

  “Now you’ve got it!” Frank slapped his palm on the desk, nodding his approval. “Come on. Let’s go see if you can cook a turkey.”

  Cassie couldn’t believe she was roasting coffee with Richard Stanton—her coffee hero—in his quirky barn turned roastery.

  Frank walked her through the entire process, from letting her select three different varieties of green beans—Sumatra, Costa Rica, and Kenya—to carrying out each step of the roasting process until they had ten pounds of Cassie’s blend cooling in a tall mason jar.

  “The glass lets the coffee sweat out unwanted moisture,” Frank explained.

  Cassie grinned, not dreaming of interrupting him, even though she�
�d read his book a dozen times. There was something special about hearing it from the mouth of the master.

  “Frank, what do you do with all of this coffee?” Cassie asked, taking in the row of jars filled from a previous roast. “You can’t possibly drink it all yourself.”

  Frank immediately stiffened. “What I do with it is my own business,” he snapped, silencing Cassie on the spot.

  Unscrewing the lid, he scooped some of the piping-hot beans into a smaller quart-sized mason jar. “I’ll send this home with you, and you can taste it once it cools down. The flavors still need time to develop.” He shoved the jar in her hands. “For now, go jot down the precise blend and temperature in the notebook in my study. In case you got lucky and it tastes halfway decent.” His lips quirked ever so slightly, belaying the harshness of his words.

  Thrilled to be given the responsibility, Cassie tucked the warm jar under her arm and scurried into the house.

  Shuffling through the various papers littering the desk, Cassie searched for Frank’s notebook to no avail. Unwilling to give up, she pulled open the top drawer, where two leather-bound books rested side by side. Aha! It had to be one of those! Lifting the largest of the two, she untied the thick leather cord and flipped it open.

  An aged photograph fluttered to the floor.

  As her fingers curled around the faded edges, Cassie’s heartbeat stilled.

  Frank’s youthful, smiling face beamed out at her beside a pretty auburn-haired girl flashing a diamond engagement ring.

  Cassie gasped, sinking into the chair as her knees gave out.

  The almond-shaped green eyes staring back at her were more than vaguely familiar.

  They belonged to her grandmother.

  Cassie tightened her grip on the steering wheel, her heart still pounding from the startling discovery. Frank Barrie was engaged to her grandmother! Nothing seemed further from the realm of possibility.