Page 4 of Sweet Christmas Comeback
Jade settled into the chair that had clearly been designated as the guest seat—it faced the window and had a cushion that actually matched the curtains, unlike Mabel’s usual spot across from it. The view encompassed the entire town square, from the church steeple to the gazebo where she could just make out Ida and Ruth’s bench, now empty in the gathering dusk.
“Drive was fine,” she said, which was true enough if you didn’t count the three hours of internal argument about whether turning around and heading back to Boston might be the smarter choice. “Stopped in Montpelier for coffee and to practice my explanation for why a marketing executive with an MBA was returning home to work in a small-town bakery.”
“And what did you settle on?” Mabel asked, unwrapping a package of chicken with the kind of focus that suggested she was paying very close attention to the answer despite her casual tone.
“Career transition,” Jade replied. “Pursuing opportunities in artisanal food service. Exploring work-life balance options.” Shelaughed, but it came out sharper than intended. “The truth sounded too much like failure.”
Mabel’s hands stilled on the chicken package. “Sweetheart,” she said gently, “coming home isn’t failure. Sometimes it’s the smartest thing a person can do.”
The kindness in her voice threatened to crack something in Jade’s chest that she’d been holding carefully together since the day her last job prospect had sent her a rejection email so form-letter generic it might have been generated by committee. She focused on the view outside instead, watching lights begin to twinkle on in windows across the square.
Mabel’s voice pulled her back. “Do you really think there’s a chance of bringing the bakery back?” she asked softly. “This place has been my life… and my home. If it goes under, I don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t have the money to fix things.”
“Good thing money isn’t the only tool we’ve got,” Jade said. She pulled the little chalkboard off the fridge, the one usually reserved for grocery lists and half-finished reminders, and wiped it clean. With quick strokes she scrawled across the top: Sugar Pine Sweets Revival Plan.
“Step one,” she said, adding a bullet point, “figure out what still works and squeeze every crumb of life out of it. Step two: bake something so good the town can’t stay away. Step three: keep going until this place is too busy to notice the cracks in the ceiling.”
Mabel leaned close, her smile trembling at the edges. “You really think we can pull it off?”
Jade set the chalk down, feeling the words solidify in her chest. “I don’t know how yet. But I do know this—after four generations of Bennetts, this bakery isn’t dying. Not while I’m here.”
The vow rang in the quiet shop, fiercer than hope, steadier than fear. For the first time in months, Jade felt something anchor her.
CHAPTER TWO
Leo Carter was having a one-sided argument with a reindeer named Comet. It was less of an argument and more of a negotiation, really, and the fact that Leo was doing all the talking didn’t mean he wasn’t losing.
“Look,” he said, his breath fogging in the crisp December air. “The fence post is new. It’s solid. It is not, I repeat, not a chew toy.”
Comet, a young buck with a big attitude, blinked his long-lashed brown eyes and gave the fresh-cut pine post a deliberate, testing nudge with his nose. The faint scent of sawdust and pine sap clung to the air, a smell Leo usually found comforting but today just smelled like another fifty-dollar repair.
“Don’t even think about it,” Leo warned. He ran a gloved hand down the reindeer’s furry neck, the coarse hair familiar and grounding. This was his world: the scent of hay and cold earth, the jingle of a harness, the gentle weight of a thousand-pound animal leaning into his touch. It was predictable. It was safe.
A loud thud came from the back of the bakery that abutted his land. He glanced over, expecting to see a delivery truck or maybe Mabel wrestling with a crate of something.
Instead, he saw something he had never expected to see again.
Jade Bennett.
His brain took a half-second to catch up with his eyes. It was like seeing a character from an old dog-eared novel walk off the page. She was wrestling a large suitcase out of the trunk of a beat-up Subaru, her auburn hair cut in a bob that swung just above the collar of her very determined-looking wool coat. She looked… the same. And completely different. Older, sure, but the set of her jaw was the same one he remembered from their high school physics project, the one that meant she was two seconds away from either solving the problem or throwing the entire thing out the window.
She yanked the suitcase from the trunk, lost her grip, and it thudded to the ground hard enough to nearly knock her off balance before she wrestled it upright and dragged it toward the bakery door, disappearing inside.
The world tilted slightly on its axis. Jade Bennett was back.
“Well, I’ll be,” a low voice drawled from behind him.
Leo started, turning to see Brice Matthews leaning against the fence line they’d just spent the morning repairing. Brice was a mountain of a man, all flannel and beard and quiet competence, and he’d been Leo’s best friend since they were old enough to get into trouble together. He was also unfortunately deeply observant.
“What?” Leo asked, feigning ignorance as he turned his attention back to Comet, giving the reindeer an unnecessarily firm pat. “Finish your work already?”
Brice ignored the question, a slow grin spreading under his beard. “Was that Jade? Didn’t know she was back in town.”
“Looks like her,” he muttered, picking a piece of hay off his jacket. “And I didn’t either.”
“Huh,” Brice said, the single syllable loaded with meaning. He straightened up from the fence and ambled over, giving Comet a scratch behind the ears. The reindeer, a notorious traitor, leaned into the touch with a soft snuffle. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“Don’t be an idiot. I’m just surprised.” Leo shoved his hands in his pockets, the leather of his gloves creaking. “Didn’t figure she’d ever come back here.”
