Snowflakes and Coffee Cakes (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

AT THE FIRST CHANCE, VERA stabs a hunk of raspberry cream cheese coffee cake and lifts it to her mouth. Her coat from last night still hangs over the back of one of the white wooden chairs in her kitchen because that’s the kind of unexpectedly wonderful night it was: No one wanted it to end. Standing at her table, leaning beneath the pendant lights, there’s time enough to spear another slab of the sweet cake during the morning’s brief lull, before it begins again. When the phone rings, she rolls her eyes up to the beadboard ceiling, stomps her foot, and walks to the phone while chewing a mouthful of cake.

“I’ll get it,” Brooke says as she rushes into the room and grabs the cordless.

Vera knows exactly what the call will be about. It’ll be just like the nine other calls that came in since early this morning from people wondering when her holiday tag sale will happen. Calls from complete strangers, people she’d never met who were either at her barn last night or heard about the simply magical evening from friends and neighbors who were gathered there, celebrating Christmas and snow and life together. She returns to the table in her dark emerald corduroys and thick turtleneck sweater, snowflake slippers on her feet and, this time more leisurely with Brooke handling the phone, has another piece of cake while the coffee percolates. When Brooke repeats their now well-versed line, saying “Check the
Addison Weekly
, an announcement will be posted there soon,” she knows she is right.

Everyone wants a nostalgic ornament from the old barn, a bit of history, a memory. Or they want a local hand-painted piece—a chapel, the wedding shop, a nursery greenhouse—to add to their own snow villages. Or they want that pinecone wreath, or the decorative sleigh with real velvet seats, or the manger scene. Something. They want anything, actually, and from the wistful sound of their voices, Vera thinks it has more to do with happiness at being a part of this special town than anything else.

Yes, everyone wants to be at the old Christmas Barn once again, even for a tag sale.

Brooke hangs up the phone and pours two big snowflake mugs of piping hot coffee, setting them down when she sits at the table across from Vera.

“Did you talk to Mom today?” Vera asks.

“I did. They made it home okay last night and Dad’s already at work now. I’m sure he was up at the crack of dawn celebrating the first snow, even though he had to clear it all from the driveway. Any snow is good snow, even driveway snow.”

“I bet he’ll make a first-snow snowman when he gets home, too.” Vera looks out the window. The sky is lighter this morning, though snow still falls. Big, lazy stellar dendrites. Snow stars looping and drifting down from the clouds, leaving the perfect soft finishing touch on the foot and a half already on the ground.

“What an awesome night it was,” Brooke says, sipping her coffee and slicing a piece of a Christmas tree coffee cake for herself, her finger scooping up a candied cherry.

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I told you,” Brooke says around a mouthful of cake. “Derek’s Deck the Boats Festival really does something to people around here.”

As if on cue, the phone rings again and Vera answers it. “Yes, thank you,” she says. “I’m not sure yet when the tag sale will be. Yes, everything will be for sale.” She pauses, then goes on, “Keep an eye on the paper, I’ll be announcing the date soon.”

When she hangs up, Brooke is packing last night’s leftover coffee cakes. Her serving utensils soak in soapy water in Vera’s kitchen sink. “Brooke,” Vera begins. Her sister looks up from her packing, waiting. “I was thinking. Why don’t you leave those things here?”

A slow smile breaks out on Brooke’s face as she sets down a wrapped coffee cake and sinks back into her seat. She loops a burgundy scarf beneath her chin, pushes up her thick sweater sleeves and after a second, asks, “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

Vera only nods.

“You’re serious?”

She nods again. “Is it crazy? Or genius?”

“Genius or crazy, forget the tag sale, Vee. I mean, there’s a full-blown Christmas shop out in that old barn. Seriously. You can go into business.” As she says it, Jingles saunters into the kitchen and jumps up onto the window ledge, watching the big snowflakes float down, gently twisting and turning.

“My thoughts exactly. And remember this?” Vera opens a kitchen drawer and pulls out the yellowed piece of paper. She scoots a chair over right beside her sister, pushes the coffee cake dishes aside and presses open the paper on the table. “It’s that letter we read, the one I found with the ornaments. From Alice. She used to run the Christmas Barn?”

Brooke glances at the handwritten note, then looks up at Vera. “It’s a little bit sad, like she was missing the shop before she even left. I get that, but what are you saying?”

“Well, see the part about new beginnings?”

“Where she kind of gives her blessing on opening a Christmas shop again with the old inventory?”

“Right. And in my heart,” Vera says while looking at the old letter, “I believe that’s what she hoped for.”

“That the Christmas Barn would reopen? You mean, like a full-time business?”

Vera shrugs. “It could work, don’t you think?”

Brooke takes her mug to the counter and tops it off with hot coffee, then turns to Vera with a grin on her face. “Do
you
think so?”

“I might. Wait.” Vera runs into her small office off the kitchen and returns with her leather planner. “Let me write some of this down.”

“Okay, here’s the journalist in you kicking in, Vee.”

“Because it helps to see it this way. Now listen. When Alice ran the Christmas Barn, it was such an old gem, and really loved. It’s been neglected for a few years, but it’s sort of a diamond-in-the-rough. If we can polish up the barn, and the business, I
do
believe we could make it work.”

“We?” Brooke asks, cutting a thick slice of cranberry streusel coffee cake this time.

“Come on,” Vera persists. “Remember when you started working for Tom to help pay for culinary school?”

“Sure, part-time while I was taking the cooking classes.”

“Yup. And the next thing I knew, you took over for the secretary when she went on maternity leave. And
then
you swapped out culinary courses for paralegal.”

“Well it was a sure thing, working there. Cooking wasn’t. And the money’s good.”

“Listen, Brooke. I know it’s a good job, but is it your true calling? I’ll never forget when you told me it’s just so much more practical.”

“It is, though. That’s the way I am, practical. Unlike you, partly unemployed and living in this, okay, beautiful-but-needs-work house.”

Vera raises her eyebrows at her sister. “And loving it, I might add. And wouldn’t you
love
baking up a storm? A snowstorm of coffee cakes, right here?”

Brooke sets her fork down. “Wait. What exactly are you talking about? It’s a Christmas shop.”

“Was.” Vera jumps up and runs to her kitchen side door, opening it wide so they can see the view straight out to the barn as they plan. “
Was
a Christmas shop. But Snowflakes and Coffee Cakes is part bakery, too.”

“Snowflakes and Coffee Cakes?” Brooke laughs easily. “Oh, I can just picture it!”

“I’m serious, Brooke. Snowflakes and Coffee Cakes. It’s the newly-named Christmas Barn and I’m so going to need a baker. You know, for the coffee cake part.”

“No way.”

Vera, nodding and crying now too, assures her. “Oh yes. Way, way, way.” She opens a clean page in her planning journal and writes down the business name, underlining it twice. Beneath it, she begins an outline. “Number one. Get the best coworker on the planet.” Then she looks up at Brooke.

“You know what they say,” Brooke tells her. “Sisters make the perfect best friends.”

“Uh-huh,” Vera agrees, leaning over and giving her a quick hug. “And now I know why I called you Bossy Brooke all those years when you micromanaged my life. You’ll finally be a boss, of your own bakery. And okay, probably still of my life, too.”

Brooke forks a hunk of cake into her mouth. “Want some?” she asks around it, her eyes sparkling as she cuts Vera a piece and slides the dish over to her.

“Yes, because I’d like to make a toast.” She scoops a hunk of the cake and clinks forks with Brooke’s. “Coffee cake cheers!”

“Oh, cheers to you, too!” Brooke takes another bite of her cake. “But listen, Vee. I can’t just up and quit my job. Do you really think we could eventually make a go of this? Of Snowflakes and Coffee Cakes, which I love saying already.”

“We’ll take it one step at a time.” She spears a piece of cake and washes it down with a long sip of hot coffee. “But we’re going to need a lot more working-breakfasts in this kitchen, so keep your weekends open.”

“I’m so game.”

“The barn’s all decorated, all the inventory’s out, so we can test it this week and right through to Christmas. You know Mom will want to help, so we can get her thoughts. And we’ll get customer feedback, analyze sales data, check the numbers, research inventory. We can probably even commission local artists’ work and stock handmade Addison ornaments, too. Oh gosh, let me list all this here.” Her pen feverishly fills the page with ideas and plans, arrows and bulleted lists, underlines and numbers.

As she builds their business outline, Brooke leans close, watching. “Tom closes the office between Christmas and New Year’s, and it’s slow this week. Maybe I can arrange some time off to dive in.”

“And I’m still writing for the newspaper here in town.” Vera looks up from their expanding outline. “Plus I can pick up other freelance work to have
some
sort of income while we start all this.”

Brooke stands and lifts her parka off one of the kitchen chairs. And Vera sees how she can’t help herself. The excitement at having her own bake shop in Vera’s Christmas shop has her on her feet, eager to begin.

“Would you really consider it and work with me?” Vera quietly asks.

“In a heartbeat.”

“I want you to talk it over with Brett first.”

“That’s where I’m going now. Because to be able to bake every single day? Here? Well, it’s far better than me just overfeeding Brett.” Brooke sits with her coat in her lap. “But this is pretty sudden. So are
you
sure about this?”

The phone rings then and Vera gives her a look as sure as there ever was one, all while holding up a finger asking her sister to wait. She thanks the caller and tells her to check this week’s
Addison Weekly
for a formal announcement, hangs up, and tells Brooke, “I’m as certain as, well, as certain as those are snowflakes out there.” She nods to the kitchen window where Jingles sits.

Brooke puts on her parka and walks to the window. “Perfect timing,” she says when a pickup truck pulls into Vera’s driveway and begins plowing the snow. “Because I’ve got so much to do now!” She watches the truck for a moment, then hurries to the table, sits and slips on her boots. “So much baking, and picking out the right coffee cake recipes for our grand opening.” But something stops her, and she stands and goes back to the window, scratching Jingles’ head while looking out past the big cat. “Wait, is that Derek?”

Vera moves behind her sister and looks over her shoulder. “Yes, it is.” Beyond him, she sees the barn, and the fir tree outside of it still twinkling with colored lights left on from the night before, the snow falling so gently around it. And seeing it all—Derek, the brown barn, the colored Christmas lights, her sister here with her in the kitchen on a snowy morning, okay, and Jingles too—well, she’s finally certain, after wondering for so long, she’s certain that what she knows, without a sliver of doubt, is this: There definitely
was
a reason she stepped suddenly on her car brakes all those many months ago when this big old house rose out of a blustery winter snowstorm like a beacon, calling, calling her home.

*  *  *

Sometimes it feels like things didn’t really happen, especially since Abby’s death. Derek will think of a sunrise from the morning before, or a good meal he enjoyed, or even a song on the radio, and then almost deny it because sometimes it’s still hard to laugh, or feel good, as though he’s being unfair to his daughter by doing so.

So when he pulls into Vera’s driveway and sees the small tree outside her barn still lit up in Christmas lights, he’s sure the night before really happened. He has a sneaking suspicion she’ll leave those lights on round-the-clock now because how could she bring herself to shut them off? Leaving them on is a way of holding on. Of maybe turning a corner she never saw coming.

He drops the truck plow and starts clearing the deep snow accumulated in her driveway, working his way from the street, past her Dutch Colonial, all the way down to the barn entrance, pushing piles of it off to the side. As he backs up to clear another section, at first he thinks it’s Vera coming out the house’s side door wearing a royal blue parka with a fur-lined hood pulled up over her head and clutching a silver and black thermos. But when the wind blows the hood off her head, he sees it’s Brooke tromping through the deep snow. He pulls up to her and idles the truck, rolling down the window.

“Hey there, Derek,” she says. “This is so nice of you, I can finally get my car out.”

“No problem,” he tells her. “It’s the least I can do after all that Vera did last night.”

“Oh! That reminds me.” She hands him the thermos through the window. “This is for you. Vera made you coffee, just the way you like it.”

He takes the thermos and glances over at the house.

“It was really nice seeing everyone gathered last night,” Brooke says then.

“It amazes me every year, how Abby brings so many people together that way.” He opens the thermos and pours coffee into the cup.

“I don’t know how to say this, Derek, but as sad as the circumstances, Abby somehow inspires us to celebrate life. Or more to celebrate the moment, I guess.”

He nods, taking a swallow of the steaming coffee.

“And we still raised a sizable donation for the Children’s Hospital. Between the high school kids from the Key Club selling out all the Addison sweatshirts, and then me and my mom selling coffee cake slices, well, people were very generous. Brett will be in touch when we’re ready to deliver the check in Abby’s name.”