Page 60 of A Gingerbread Romance

His gaze was tender. “I won’t. I promise. I love you, Greta Ross.”

“I love you, too, Jonathan Olsen.” She sighed, mesmerized.

His hand curled around hers in a steady grip. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

She’d also spend the rest of her life as the happiest woman alive.

THE END

EPILOGUE

ONE YEAR LATER

Greta pulledthe curtains aside in the living room as colorful lights flickered on the large, elegant fir tree in the Victorian’s living room. Old-fashioned Christmas music played softly, and the house still smelled of brown sugar and cinnamon from the gingerbread cookies that Jean had baked this afternoon.

Outside, the yard resembled mounds of sugar, sparkling and white under the moonlight. The scene would be altogether idyllic, except for the raging storm.

Greta gazed through the glass. The first heavy snowfall of the year was falling as if someone up in Heaven was dumping buckets of the stuff on the world below. Five inches already in just a few hours, and six more were expected overnight.

She normally loved the first big snow, but this was different. Frightening, even. The intensity of the wind was enough to send shivers down her spine. “I’m so glad you brought your bag, Grandma.” Thank goodness Jean had already planned to stay the night in her old room. There was no way Greta would let her drive home.

“Me, too. No one should be out in this,” said Jean agreeably from her spot in the armchair by the fireplace.

Greta might need to close the bakery tomorrow unless the snowplows would be able to get out early. But she doubted the public would be out looking for coffee or baked goods after such a storm. Even the popular new restaurant next door to the bakery would probably be closed.

“What do you think, Grandma? Should we call for a snow day at the bakery tomorrow?”

Jean had done so many times over the years during her tenure, usually once every winter.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Jean replied. “The staff might have trouble getting to work in the morning. Plus, their kids will be home from school because the school district will have to declare a snow day, from the looks of it.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

Jean nodded. “Besides, you don’t know if the electricity will be out or what. I’d suggest you call the staff tonight. Everyone will rest easier that way.”

“You’re right. I will,” said Greta. She started by texting Judy and then sent a group chat to the rest of the team.

Jean had sold the house to them a few months before their wedding in September. She’d moved out and Jonathan had moved in as soon as she and Jonathan had returned from their week-long honeymoon in Maui. But Jean had waved the big old house goodbye with only happy tears. She stopped over frequently, which Greta loved.

Greta sighed, thinking about it all. The past year had been a whirlwind of activity and a dream come true. Her wedding had been intimate, a beautiful ceremony held at the local Catholic church. And the reception had been held at a beautiful bed-and-breakfast on the outskirts of town. It had been early enough in the fall that the red and yellow leaves were still on the trees, but the afternoons were still warm.

Before they’d married, Jonathan and Greta had spent about eight months going back and forth between New Haven Falls and Baltimore, almost weekly, to visit each other. But shortly before the wedding, Jonathan had negotiated a new professional arrangement for himself.

So now, he still worked for his Baltimore brokerage and traveled to the city occasionally, but he’d opened a satellite office here in New Haven Falls for them, from which he operated full time. He focused his commercial real estate prospects solely on eastern Pennsylvania, and he was loving every minute of small-town living.

Greta and Jonathan saw his brothers and their families regularly, and Jean had fallen head over heels for each of them, especially Tim and Trista’s twin boys. She was thrilled to—sort of—inherit some grandchildren. She’d also hit it off fabulously with Jonathan’s Aunt Linda and Ivan’s wife, Rhonnie.

Greta looked up from her phone, staring again at the snow outside as it was whisked about in tiny swirls by the relentless wind.

“Judy agrees,” Greta said. “The staff sounds happy about it, too.”

“They all need a break, sometimes, anyway,” Jean said generously. “It’s going to be another busy Christmas season!”

Jean had moved to a retirement community on the other side of town where she happily whiled away her days playing bridge, staying fit with water aerobics and dance classes, teaching baking techniques, and enjoying nightly socials with friends. She stopped into the Smithfield frequently to offer her two cents on the state of the bakery, but also to visit everyone.

She’d been happy to leave the responsibility for the monstrous old Victorian to the younger generation, as she’d so graciously put it. But Jonathan had been thrilled to take it over, claiming, as he had on the first night that he’d met Greta, that it was built in one of his favorite architectural styles.

He also loved living near town, where he and Greta could walk to the shops and restaurants. He said he never missed Baltimore because of their somewhat urban location here. It was simply a bonus that the house sat on half an acre of land.

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