Page 17 of Cookies & Kisses

“I knowexactlywhat I’m talking about. She was perfect. Not only did she help in the front, but she fixed your vanilla cookiesandgot you that order for the Autumn Festival.”

“How do you know about that?”

“I talked to Suzette.” She crosses her arms. “How do you plan on making two hundred ofMadeleine’scookies without her?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

Mom grabs my arms and turns me toward her. “Youneedher. And not just for her cookies.”

I raise my eyebrows at her, and she narrows her eyes at me. “You know what I mean,” she says.

I can’t help the smirk on my face, but I tame it back to the scowl that’s been permanently etched since Madeleine left.

My mom notices. “And that’s exactly what I’m talking about! When she was here, you two were joking, laughing, and baking together. You were so happy. And now, you’re angry and sullen. Not to mention falling behind on your work.”

“So what do you suggest I do?” I ask. I genuinely want to know.

“Go apologize.”

I shake my head. “She won’t listen. I went too far with my tests.”

“That’s true, you did.” She pauses and rubs her hand on my arm. “But maybe this is the final test. If you can gain her forgiveness, there could be something really special for the two of you.”

I don’t have to ask if she means for me personally or for the business, because I know.

She means both.

Madeleine is perfect for me in every way. She challenges me, makes me a better baker, and a better person.

And I ruined it, just like I ruined these cookies.

“I’ll take over the front for the rest of the day,” my mom says. “But please take this time to consider what I’m saying. And if you can figure out a way to apologize that will show her you care…even better.”

She turns and leaves through the swinging door without waiting for my acknowledgment, because she knows she’s right. She usually is, even though I’d never tell her that.

I scan the kitchen, grateful I can focus on baking, but overwhelmed at the mess I’ve left for myself. I start taking the empty trays to the sink, and something pink and sparkly in the corner of the room catches my eye.

Madeleine’s notebook.

Did she leave it here this whole time? I’m sure she misses it, although she said she wouldn’t be able to bake much in her parents’ tiny apartment. Still, I should bring it back to her.

I flip through the pages, smiling at the notes she left for herself throughout.Too much salt. Not enough leavening. Needs more chocolate chips!!!!

At the end of the notebook, I find a list.

Ideas to help Mason with his bakery

- Change the name

- Add decorations

- Figure out his gluten-free cookies (peas?)

- Secure orders and help him bake them

Last week, this list would have made me upset, the same way I worried that she was trying to take over. But I realize what she titled the list: “Ways tohelpMason withhisbakery.”

I’m such an idiot.

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