Page 30 of Just Desserts in Pelican Point
“She said you’d know what to do with it,” he adds, then gently places it in my hands. “She also noted that it should be delivered before the funeral so you could… quote… ‘use with love or not at all.’”
That makes me laugh through the tears threatening to fall. “She always hated recipes without heart,” I whisper, blinking fast.
Lila, now standing beside me, wraps an arm around my shoulders. “She adored you, sweetheart.”
I look down at the box, then open it slowly. Inside are dozens of handwritten recipe cards—some pristine, others splattered with stains. Her looping script dances across the cards like music. I pull one at random.
"Violet’s Famous Honey Lavender Shortbread – best served with secrets and good tea."
“She wrote little notes on each one,” I whisper, stunned.
Langston smiles, softening just a little. “She called you her heir in spirit. Not by blood—but by heart.”
And that’s what undoes me.
I clutch the box to my chest and nod, unable to speak.
“Excuse me,” one of the garden ladies calls from the corner. “Does anyone know where she kept the bonsai she threatened the mayor with? I’m not finding it.”
Lila leans in with a snort. “She didn’t keep it. She gave it to the mayor’s wife as a peace offering. After she ‘accidentally’ decapitated the mayor’s hedge swan.”
I laugh through the tears. “God, I miss her.”
“We all do,” Lila says quietly.
I turn back to Langston. “Thank you. I… I’ll take care of it. All of it.” I leave the florist shop in the capable hands of the gardening club, returning to my bakery next door.
Holding the box up when I walk in, Sophie appears next to me. “Holy crap. Is that Mrs. Waverly’s recipe box?”
I nod, still overwhelmed.
“That’s like… baking scripture,” she says reverently. “Is there a lemon tart recipe in there?”
I rifle through a few cards, spotting old favorites—rose scones, lavender honey cookies, something called Midnight Cinnamon Bombs with a note that reads ‘For when the mayor pisses you off.’ I laugh again, my throat tight.
“I think I want to bake one of these each week,” I say suddenly. “Feature them at the bakery. Keep her memory alive.”
“That’s a beautiful idea,” Candace says softly.
I glance at the gathering of women who’ve temporarily taken over the florist shop, now arranging roses and hydrangeas like it’s second nature. Pelican Point might be chaotic and nosy and occasionally overwhelming, but… it never lets you grieve alone.
Chapter11
Marcus
I’m a fucking coward.
Not the kind that flinches at danger—I’ve faced down terrorists, drug cartels, domestic disputes, a drunk guy with a machete in nothing but Scooby-Doo boxers. No, I’m not scared of the world, but I am scared of her.
I grip the steering wheel so tight my knuckles ache. The cruiser’s parked just off the overlook road, the one that curves above the ocean. It’s peaceful here. Quiet.
I hate it because the silence has teeth, and it’s chewing through the guilt lodged in my chest like it’s got something to prove.
Julie.
Sunlight spilled across her shoulder this morning like a damn painting. Her hair was a mess, curled across the pillow. I could’ve reached out. I could’ve stayed. Said something. Anything.
But, no, instead, I got up like a thief and left without a sound. No note. No text. No explanation. I just left like the fucking coward that I am.
