Porcelain meets porcelain as she sets it down in the saucer she prefers to have under her cup. “As soon as you're ready for her, she’ll come in.”
“Would the day after tomorrow be too soon?” I ask, knowing the answer is probably a no.
“She'll be here with bells on,” Vera adds nonchalantly. “I’ll talk to her tonight, but I guarantee she’s ready to go. Nova hates to be idle too long.” Likes to stay busy. Another point in her favor. “How'd that new biscotti recipe turn out?”
“Haven't got to try it yet. Want to be the Guinea pig when it’s ready?”
“I'll never turn down one of your biscottis. Neither will Millie Haberdasher.” As she cranes her neck to examine the bowl, her eyes squint, then widen at the sight of what’s sitting beside it. “Do I see a lemon over there?”
If there’s one thing of the many things I’ll always remember about Vera Kay, it’s her love of all things lemon. “Figured I might make one that goes well with that summertime tea blend that’s been popular with the customers.”
“Well, I think it'll be a hit,” she says as a wink that seals her judgment. The cookie dough biscotti she’s eating steals her attention, giving her something to look at other than me as she inquires, “Thought any more about entering the Christmas Spirit Soiree?”
“Nah. Too busy around here.” One glance around the shop told Vera Kay that wasn't the total truth. However, the shops who win that award and the prizes alongside it are usually decorated to the gills and have various offerings. When Emma and I started this shop, we had barely had the time and money to get the bare bones in place before we adopted the first five kids. With rent, a loan to pay off, and a growing family who likes to eat more than once or twice a day, it just wasn’t in the budget to invest in the shop more than we already had. Maybe someday, we’d always say. Someday never came, though.
With another glimpse around, she cocks an eyebrow at me. “I think you can manage.”
I think of a short but truthful response as I swipe the wet terry cloth rag across the counters. “Honestly, I don't have the time, the money, or the manpower for it, Miss Vera.”
The cloth stops moving when she closes her hand over mine. I look up to see determination staring back at me. “Trust me, Scott... With Nova here to help and me pitching in, not only will you have time, but you'll win that contest.”
To hear her tell it, her niece is somewhat of a fairy godmother. I wonder if she leaves a trail of pixie dust wherever she roams. If so, Baked & Brewed could use a sprinkle or two of magic. “Is she that efficient of a worker?”
“And then some. She's very inventive and double majored in marketing and education in college. I tell ya, that girl can spin straw into gold. Runs in the family,” she laughs, garnering a smile from me. “Maybe she could show you some of the secret recipes she used at the coffee shop she worked at? Coffee’s her forte, but she’s a pretty decent baker too.”
“Couldn't hurt,” I admit with a shrug, glancing around the room. “Emma would be so ashamed that I’ve let the place go down as it has.”
Short, snow-white curls bounce as she shakes her head back and forth. “Emma would be proud that you kept her dream alive while raising ten children by yourself.”
“Can't take all the credit,” I say, giving her a knowing look. “I've had a lot of help along the way.”
“You've also done most of the heavy lifting on your own. Nothing wrong with accepting help, honey. Especially when that help loves those kids,” her eyes travel to the corner booth, where ten Bakers sit, all different ages and personalities intermeshed.
“If only I could restore it to how it was before she…” I exhale, keeping the façade I’ve worked so hard to build up intact. Over the last year especially, it’s finally sunk in that my wife is gone, but I want how I run the shop and raise our kids to make her proud, even if she can’t be here to see it for herself.
Vera Kay glances down at her coffee mug, deep in thought for a moment. “What if it's meant to be something different now?” Her voice wavers a touch.
“Maybe,” I concede, although my heart and mind can’t figure out what that new something’s supposed to be. Sensing a change in topic is sorely needed, I turn it back to something I know will spark some joy in us both. “How’d the kids fare at practice tonight?”
“Our boy Griffin almost got a home run.”
“No way!” My eldest boy’s coming into his own on the field.
“Maybe with Nova here, you'll get to go see it yourself when he finally hits that homer. Grey said he's going to be a star come spring.”
It’s so wonderful that Griffin has a good guy like Grey Kasen to show him the ropes. “He's doing a great job with that fall ball league.”
“He surely is. Mason's been working with Clay as well,” she nods to the jokester of the family, who’s currently making weird faces at Harper and Griffin, both of whom are doing their best to ignore him.
It was a surprise when Grey announced that his twin would be helping out this season. “I wonder what made him pitch in and start coaching.” Mason’s a local police officer here with a reputation for being a bit hot and cold with people. He’s the most guarded of the Kasen family, and you can tell he takes his job seriously.
“Don’t know to tell you the truth. You should see those brothers at it, though.” Her eyes glimmer with mischief. “Different as night and day, but they work so well together. It's like watching a well-oiled machine. Easy on the eyes, too,” she cackles as I shake my head. Woman’s incorrigible sometimes.
“Shame Grey didn't get to go into the big leagues.” Grey was a talented player in his younger days, with college scouts looking at him during his junior year in high school. He had a scholarship lined up until a fight put the brakes on that, from what I gather. Even though he took over running Kasen Construction when his father Charles had a heart attack, he still finds time to give back to the community, including coaching.
“Something tells me he doesn't regret it all that much,” she says with a knowing smirk.
What’s that about? “So, when's the next game?”
“Hemshire had to cancel this weekend, so next Saturday. Why don't you plan on going to the game? I'll stay back and watch the shop,” she suggests. “Nova will be with me, so we’ll have it covered.”
“I can't do that to you all,” I concede, much to my chagrin.
She hops down from the stool she was perched on and walks her cup and saucer to the sink. “You deserve to watch your kids be kids while you still can. It'll be good for them to see their dad there, cheering them on.”
It’d do me some good too. “We'll see how the week goes.”
“I'll take that.” We shake hands, sealing an unofficial deal. Her head cocks towards the glass case that holds all the baked goods. “And I'll also take two more of those biscottis, wrapped to go, please.”
Millie Haberdasher isn’t the only one with a thing for my handiwork. “Think the new ones might be a hit?”