Page 71 of Kiss the Girl
“It’s a huge deal,” she said. “This is amazing, and I have to go open the store right now, but this is going to keep me smiling all day.” She reached up for a hug, and when I closed my arms around her, she whispered, “Too bad I can’t thank you with a makeout. Maybe you should rethink that.”
Then she walked to her car and drove off to work without a backward glance.
* * *
I swung by Bixby’s Café on the way to school Monday morning, in need of stronger coffee than my usual morning brew. I’d been losing sleep over Grace, resisting the urge for the last two nights to drop by or call her to come over.
“Morning, coach.” Taylor, the owner and chief barista, seemed to learn everyone’s name the first time she heard it. “What can I get for you?”
“Strongest caffeine you got. I don’t care what’s in it.” I was reaching for my wallet when I noticed her bakery case. “And an apple cider donut.” Might as well sample what we’d be selling in the booth. It seemed like a baked good I should have had in my life long before now.
“Coming right up.” I wandered off to the side and studied the bulletin board bristling with flyers and community announcements. A lost dog. A babysitter looking for work. Business cards for local businesses. Creekville had the vibe of Mineral except I didn’t have to keep running into people I knew giving me pitying looks or trying to set me up because they thought I was pathetic.
“Coach Redmond,” Taylor called, and I gratefully went to get my espresso. “Strongest I got.”
“Perfect.”
“Hey, I’ve been meaning to thank you,” she said, as she handed me my donut. “It was really decent of you to give up the apple cider donuts this year. I was so overwhelmed trying to organize the whole thing that I didn’t have the bandwidth to figure out what else to sell.”
“Sure, no problem,” I said, taking a sip of the espresso. It was bitter and strong, like she’d mixed caffeine with water. It was perfect. I waved at her and headed back to my Honda, but as my foot hit the running board, the caffeine hit my system, and the brain fog cleared.
Wait, what had she said? Give up the apple cider donuts this year?
Hold on.
I walked back into Bixby’s and waited until she was done with her next customer.
“Taylor?”
“Your drink okay? I can add a shot of cream if you need to cut it.”
“The coffee’s fine. Did you thank me for giving up the apple cider donuts?”
She smiled but it faded when she saw my face. “Yeah. Because the email I sent?”
“What email?”
“I sent it last month, explaining that I was completely overwhelmed with taking over Christmas Town from Glynnis. I’m so busy trying to figure out how to coordinate the booths that I don’t have it in me to figure out what to sell that will be a surefire hit. But my apple cider donuts sell well here, and people love that booth, so I said I’d like to call dibs on those this year, and if it was a problem to let me know.” She looked as anxious as if she’d downed twelve shots of her own espresso.
“I didn’t see the email,” I said. “You’re sure you sent it? I stay on top of emails pretty well.”
“I’m sure.” She pulled her phone from her apron pocket. “I assumed when you didn’t email back that it was fine. Maybe that was my subconscious trying to talk me into believing it was no big deal because I needed it to be no big deal.” She sounded on the verge of tears as she scrolled on her phone. “I should have followed up with you when I didn’t hear back. Here.”
She handed me the phone which was open to an email from her “sent” folder. The subject line read, “Change requested to your booth.” I scanned it, and she had indeed asked about selling apple cider donuts. But I could see the problem.
“You misspelled my email address. The domain is right, but you put Noah.Redmond. It’s just N.Redmond.”
“Oh, no.” A stricken look crossed her face, chased by panic. “I should have called over to the school when I didn’t get a direct answer to the email.” She took a deep breath. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” I thought she might be reassuring herself, not me. “I can switch it up. I’ll find something else to make. The important thing is to have apple cider donuts, and you’ll have those covered.”
I couldn’t stand it when people cried, and there were definitely tears gathering in her thickening voice. No doubt she’d let them fall the second I walked back out.
“No, don’t worry about it,” I said against all common sense. “I can figure something else out. I have a whole football team to help me.”
In a normal circumstance, Taylor Bixby seemed like the kind of woman who would have insisted on us keeping the apple cider donuts while she planned something else. But right now, Taylor Bixby seemed like a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown, so instead she gave me a shaky smile.
“Are you sure?”
I hadn’t been, but that almost-watery smile clinched it. “I’m sure. Do the apple cider donuts. We’ll come up with something.”
