Page 5 of A New Year Baby

CHAPTER 2

Iturn back in horror, and watch as Adam and Eve walk into the bakery. I want to dive and hide behind the pastry display case. If I could describe the Frost sisters, I would say that Eve was the most intelligent by far—she was a straight A student in school, and won every academic competition in the state. She did it effortlessly. Mary was the sweet one, artistic with her love for the theatre. Clara was athletic and driven, with complete tunnel vision, and she never noticed anything that didn’t have to do with ballet. I admire all three girls, and often wonder if my daughter will inherit any of those traits from their aunties.

If Mary or Clara walked into my store, I wouldn’t mind so much. But Eve—she’s a bit of a danger. She’s too clever. I’ve always been intimidated by how smart she is.

I wonder if she has heard any of the rumors about me around town. Everyone loves to speculate about who the father of my little girl might be. Many people think it’s Jack, but I’ve heard some really outrageous stories about other possible candidates—random celebrities, the mailman, the weirdly handsome janitor, and some men I’ve never even met. That’s the problem with living in a town like Snowflake Creek. Your personal life becomes a tabloid.

In fact, that’s probably the only reason Eve entered my store. She’s probably just trying to escape the prying eyes of the townsfolk, already stalking her new romance like ants on a piece of delicious fruit. Once they catch that scent of sugar, the ants never stop coming. And they just bring more and more ants to devour every last morsel.

When Eve strolls closer, laughing and holding her boyfriend’s hand, I swallow and lower my eyes, brushing some of my messy, butterscotch-blonde bangs over my face, hoping she’ll be too focused on Adam to even notice me. I am sure that like most busy holiday shoppers, she’ll just browse the goods and decide that she is watching her sugar intake, and walk out of the bakery.

Any minute now.

I hold my breath, waiting for her to leave.

But then she picks up a box of colorful, assorted macarons, gushing to Adam about how delicious they are. She’s right. They are pretty damned delicious. I studied how to make them in France, but I also learned the Italian method. I’m very proud of my chosen technique, adapted from recipes popularized by the master pastry maker Pierre Hermé. They are some of my favorite items in the bakery—especially that little gift-wrapped package of a dozen. They are Christmas colored and themed: gingerbread, peppermint, eggnog, cranberry, hot chocolate, matcha, Nutella, s’mores, candy cane, and other various delights for the tastebuds. It’s one of my biggest sellers for the holidays, popular among last minute-shoppers.

Eve turns to head toward the cash register. Crap. I take a few steps back. Why do my macarons have to be so irresistibly cute and delicious? I brought this upon myself. I should have eaten them all last night.

“Stella?” Eve calls out with surprise, when she spots me cowering in a corner, covered in flour and powdered sugar. “Stella Valentine? Oh my god, girl! It’s been too long.”

“Hey, Evie,” I say weakly, brushing the bangs aside. That was a terrible disguise. Worse than Clark Kent’s glasses.

“I didn’t know you were back in Snowflake Creek!” she exclaims. “Didn’t you move to Louisiana?”

“Yes,” I respond softly. “For a few years. Weren’t you in Alaska?”

“That’s where I met this handsome fella,” she says, hugging Adam’s arm with a smile. “Stella, meet Adam Wintergreen. Adam, this is my brother’s… ex-girlfriend.”

I wince at the description. It almost sounded like she forgot about our near-apocalyptic breakup, for a second there. “Welcome to Snowflake Creek, Adam.”

“Thank you kindly, Ma’am,” he responds with a grin. “It’s very… colorful.”

“More than Mardi Gras,” I say honestly. “Are you two here to stay?”

“At least for a little while,” Eve says, glancing at Adam. “We still have to figure that out.”

“Most of my family lives in Vermont,” Adam explains. “A little ski resort town called Silver Mountain. I hope Eve will come visit, soon.”

“That sounds very pretty,” I tell them both.

“What about you, Stell?” Eve asks me, her eyes suddenly laser-focused. “What brought you back home?”

“My mom and I missed this town and this shop,” I explain as I take her macarons and neatly place them in a gift bag. “Her health has been up and down over the years, so I didn’t want to leave her here alone.”

“That’s so sweet of you. How is Mrs. Valentine?”

“She’s a fighter,” I respond proudly. “She always said that losing one breast made her feel like an Amazon warrior-baker.”

“She always made thebestgoodies,” Eve says, looking around with a sigh. “I heard this town just wasn’t the same after you left. There were no macarons. And special occasions were much less special without one of your majestic cakes.”

I think I hear some noise coming from the back room, and I remember that Luna will be returning at any moment. My heart skips a beat. I hand the gift bag to Eve quickly, rejecting her payment. “Please take this as a gift,” I tell her. Grabbing a business card, I slip it in the bag with a smile. “Let me know if I can make anything for one of your special occasions.”

“I think we will be having a lot of special occasions in the near future,” Adam says with a wink.

Eve elbows him lightly. “We will definitely call you, Stell. Thanks for these beautiful macarons. I know you’re the Sorceress of Sugar, and after giving me this first hit for free—I’ll definitely be hooked and back to buy more regularly. I hope you’re ready to be my drug dealer.”

“Of course,” I tell her with a laugh.

The two of them move to leave.

Thank goodness that Luna took a while finding the vanilla bean paste. She must have gotten distracted upstairs with her grandma. As I watch Eve walk toward the exit, I remember her tutoring me in the library in high school. The girl is just too damn smart. When she pushes my door open, the bell rings to signify her exit, and I sigh with relief as she steps outside.

But then a loud little voice echoes through the store.

“Mama!” shouts Luna as she bounces out of the kitchen holding a giant jar. “Is Maddy-gassy vanilla the same thing as Bon Bon vanilla?”

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