Page 7 of The Blessings of Christmas
He was so close and she stared up into his eyes. “Your eyes are like coffee,” she murmured.
“What?” Ryan jerked back.
Where had her silliness come from? “I said I could sure use some coffee.”
Stop the nonsense, Sarah.
Enough. She trotted out to the storefront, flipping on lights as she went. In three minutes she had her warm mug of coffee. Sarah killed it with cream so it didn’t look at all like Ryan’s deep, brown eyes. Sighing, she slugged down a gulp and felt it wind through her in a warm stream. Her riotous imagination must be the result of holiday stress. Then it was back to the work room, her attitude adjusted and ready to work.
For an hour or so she turned out brownies, cheese crowns and pecan rolls while Ryan punched, shaped and baked bread.His rye rolls, a new addition, had been a big hit so he was making more of those. Every night, Ryan closed out the register. They’d been taking in more money since he’d started helping out and she hoped it continued.
While the pastries cooled, she checked the hunks of butter they’d left out the night before. “Feels like it’s ready.” She looked up to find Ryan studying her hands cupped over the wrapped packages. “What?”
He shrugged. “Nothing. It’s just the way you hold the butter. You’d think those were your kids or something.”
Sarah gave the butter a final pat and turned to the supply cupboard. “In some ways, they are, I guess. Want to chop the nuts?” She took down a bag of pecans.
Grabbing a knife from the rack over the sink, he said, “I’m on it.”
“Good, you chop and I’ll sift the flour.” Reaching into the cupboard, she brought out the huge recipe binder. “Dad had everything in his head. Now it’s all in this fat notebook, secret spices included.”
“Sounds more like a spy mission than a recipe file.” Spreading out the pecans, he started to chop, working the knife with studied determination.
She glanced around. “My dad took this business very seriously.”
“I’m sure he did. The Full Cup is still here. That’s saying something. Michiana Thyme is closed.” The knife seemed to emphasize each point. That was a sore spot in the town. The dress shop Michiana Thyme had been an anchor in Gull Harbor for as long as Sarah could remember. But Loretta, the owner, had moved closer to her daughter. The store had never sold, so it closed. Now the green frame structure housed the town’s PR department and even that was temporary.
No way did Sarah want to tank another Gull Harbor family business. Not on her watch.
“Yep, we’re still here.” But she couldn’t think about the taxes due at the end of January. Usually, they paid twice a year but she’d skipped a payment. Revenues were down and she’d had unexpected expenses, like Jamie’s funeral.
But she wouldn’t think about that.
The ginormous binder was filled with clippings and scrawled ingredients, some in plastic slip sheets but most just crammed into the pages. A few fell to the floor. Dropping the knife, Ryan scooped them up. “Here let me take that.”
“Thanks. The darn thing weighs a ton.” She shifted the book into his arms. The brush of his skin sent a surprising burst of warmth up both arms. “Oh, my.”
Ryan cocked a brow. “Oh, my what?”
She wet her lips. “Oh, my. Someday I’ve got to organize this.”
Setting the binder on the table, he flipped it open. “You got a lot stuffed in here, that’s for sure.”
“We were afraid the recipes would be lost someday,” she said, turning the pages. Then she pushed back the curly hair that would never behave. “But the way things worked out, what does it matter? There’s no little girl to carry on with The Full Cup.”
“Why does it have to be a girl?” Ryan studied her. She must look a mess, no makeup or anything. “Your dad handled the shop, right?”
“Yep. He mostly worked the coffee machine and my mother baked.” She tried to picture Justin or Nathan running The Full Cup, but that was a stretch. “Jamie seemed to like the business.”
“Jamie enjoyedyou,” Ryan said quietly, going back to his chopping. “He would have become a brick layer if you were standing next to him.”
“Oh, Ryan. That’s so sweet.” His words sent a rush of comfort through her.
There was a time when Ryan always had a chip on his shoulder. Maybe the accident had changed him. But she didn’t want to spend a lot of time analyzing her brother-in-law.
Time to get to work. “We need a little Christmas music.” Walking to the old plastic radio on the shelf, Sarah snapped it on and turned to the station that ran only Christmas music, starting the week before Thanksgiving. “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” was playing and she hummed along. She sure hoped her troubles would be out of sight in the coming year. While Ryan chopped the heck out of those pecans, she measured the flour. Working side by side, she felt a bit of Christmas bloom inside.
His knife flying, Ryan said, “Besides, Sarah, there might still be a little girl in your future.”
