best.
“Amaryllis explained the situation to me. I saw the importance and agreed to open my home to the public for that one evening.”
It was clear—at least to Ami—Beck didn’t appreciate Eliza referring to his house as the Spencer-Shaw home. Ami mentally filed that piece of information away so she wouldn’t make the same mistake.
“ I had already explained the situation to you, Mr. Cross,” Eliza said pointedly.
“Did you?” Beck looked bored with the conversation. “If you’ll excuse us, we need to get back to the café.”
Eliza directed a pitying smile in Ami’s direction. “I heard you’d taken a second job. Obviously the bakery business isn’t all you hoped it would be.”
Ami’s blood did a slow boil. She gestured toward the shop, which was standing room only. “As you can see, Blooms Bake Shop is doing quite well.”
“Then why—?”
“Neighbors helping neighbors. That’s the Good Hope way.” Beck lifted a brow and fixed his gaze on Eliza. “Or do I have that wrong?”
If the flush riding up her neck was any indication, Eliza Shaw was doing her own slow burn. “It’s been nice chatting, but I need to move on.”
Beck watched her leave, then took Ami’s arm and turned in the direction of the town square. “I need a drink.”
“We used to be friends.” Ami couldn’t quite keep a note of sadness from her voice. “Now she barely tolerates me.”
“What happened?” Beck purchased two cups of hot chocolate from a vendor set up in the square.
Several years ago, the city had installed industrial parabolic heaters in the overhang of the gazebo. Between her down coat, the heaters, and now the hot cocoa, Ami barely noticed the cold.
“What happened between you and Eliza?” Beck repeated.
“Nothing, really. We were casual friends in high school. That was a long time ago.” Ami told herself it wasn’t as if she had to give him the full story, only enough to staunch his curiosity. “She was always more a friend of a friend. Now everything I do irritates her.”
Beck took a sip of cocoa, his gaze never leaving her face. “Why do you think that is?”
“Um, I don’t really know for sure.” Her laugh sounded a bit desperate. She stared into her cup and changed the subject. “I bet everyone has someone in their past who dislikes them or who they dislike.”
Beck’s expression darkened. “Often with good reason.”
“Well,” Ami forced a bright tone. “Let’s talk about tonight. Will you be helping me move the gifts to your house? Or will I have to do it myself?”
Beck parked his Land Rover directly in front of the bakery. Thankfully, it was late enough that the Friday-night revelers had moved to the bars near the waterfront.
He expected to transfer most of the presents himself. But Ami must not have gotten the bulletin that lifting heavy objects was a man’s job. She worked as hard as he did, carrying items down the stairs and packing the SUV with the skill of a seasoned professional. It took four trips to clear all the gifts from her apartment.
At his house, Beck dropped an armful of blankets, each in a plastic wrapper, on top of several large boxes of kitchenware on the floor of a back bedroom. Ami relegated a box of Bristle Blocks to an open spot just inside the doorway. Other than leaving a walkway to the wrapping table—two sawhorses topped with a piece of plywood—he and Ami had decided all open spaces were fair game.
“Time to head home.” Ami pushed back a strand of hair and heaved a weary sigh. “Four a.m. will come all too soon.”
At first Beck didn’t understand. Until he remembered that tomorrow was another big day. Not just for the bakery. He’d been warned the Snow Blade Parade was a crowd favorite and to make sure the café had plenty of food on hand.
Tomorrow Ami would get up early to bake before rushing to the café to cook for the lunch crowd. Talk about burning the candle at both ends.
“Why don’t you take a nap after you
“Amaryllis explained the situation to me. I saw the importance and agreed to open my home to the public for that one evening.”
It was clear—at least to Ami—Beck didn’t appreciate Eliza referring to his house as the Spencer-Shaw home. Ami mentally filed that piece of information away so she wouldn’t make the same mistake.
“ I had already explained the situation to you, Mr. Cross,” Eliza said pointedly.
“Did you?” Beck looked bored with the conversation. “If you’ll excuse us, we need to get back to the café.”
Eliza directed a pitying smile in Ami’s direction. “I heard you’d taken a second job. Obviously the bakery business isn’t all you hoped it would be.”
Ami’s blood did a slow boil. She gestured toward the shop, which was standing room only. “As you can see, Blooms Bake Shop is doing quite well.”
“Then why—?”
“Neighbors helping neighbors. That’s the Good Hope way.” Beck lifted a brow and fixed his gaze on Eliza. “Or do I have that wrong?”
If the flush riding up her neck was any indication, Eliza Shaw was doing her own slow burn. “It’s been nice chatting, but I need to move on.”
Beck watched her leave, then took Ami’s arm and turned in the direction of the town square. “I need a drink.”
“We used to be friends.” Ami couldn’t quite keep a note of sadness from her voice. “Now she barely tolerates me.”
“What happened?” Beck purchased two cups of hot chocolate from a vendor set up in the square.
Several years ago, the city had installed industrial parabolic heaters in the overhang of the gazebo. Between her down coat, the heaters, and now the hot cocoa, Ami barely noticed the cold.
“What happened between you and Eliza?” Beck repeated.
“Nothing, really. We were casual friends in high school. That was a long time ago.” Ami told herself it wasn’t as if she had to give him the full story, only enough to staunch his curiosity. “She was always more a friend of a friend. Now everything I do irritates her.”
Beck took a sip of cocoa, his gaze never leaving her face. “Why do you think that is?”
“Um, I don’t really know for sure.” Her laugh sounded a bit desperate. She stared into her cup and changed the subject. “I bet everyone has someone in their past who dislikes them or who they dislike.”
Beck’s expression darkened. “Often with good reason.”
“Well,” Ami forced a bright tone. “Let’s talk about tonight. Will you be helping me move the gifts to your house? Or will I have to do it myself?”
Beck parked his Land Rover directly in front of the bakery. Thankfully, it was late enough that the Friday-night revelers had moved to the bars near the waterfront.
He expected to transfer most of the presents himself. But Ami must not have gotten the bulletin that lifting heavy objects was a man’s job. She worked as hard as he did, carrying items down the stairs and packing the SUV with the skill of a seasoned professional. It took four trips to clear all the gifts from her apartment.
At his house, Beck dropped an armful of blankets, each in a plastic wrapper, on top of several large boxes of kitchenware on the floor of a back bedroom. Ami relegated a box of Bristle Blocks to an open spot just inside the doorway. Other than leaving a walkway to the wrapping table—two sawhorses topped with a piece of plywood—he and Ami had decided all open spaces were fair game.
“Time to head home.” Ami pushed back a strand of hair and heaved a weary sigh. “Four a.m. will come all too soon.”
At first Beck didn’t understand. Until he remembered that tomorrow was another big day. Not just for the bakery. He’d been warned the Snow Blade Parade was a crowd favorite and to make sure the café had plenty of food on hand.
Tomorrow Ami would get up early to bake before rushing to the café to cook for the lunch crowd. Talk about burning the candle at both ends.
“Why don’t you take a nap after you
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