“I … it was—I couldn’t … I mean, the butter,” she stuttered.
“Ah,” Jake tried and failed again to contain a laugh. “I see that hasn’t changed then. Your eloquence is as astounding as ever.”
Sadie let out a strangled groan and rolled her eyes, grabbed a fistful of napkins, and started wiping.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “I thought I told you I needed time.”
“Oh, I’m not here for you. I’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth, and Vinny told me I haven’t lived until I’ve had the cinnamon apple tarts here.”
“I did. I said that. Told him, I know just the place. Sorry Sadie … I didn’t really think …”
“Yes, well. I’ll, um—hang on just a second. I’ll be right back.” She darted back into the kitchen and grabbed onto the counter to steady herself.
“Gigi Marie,” she heard his booming voice call out. “How is it possible you seem to be getting younger?”
Sadie peeked through the slit in the doors and saw Gigi hugging Jake, her hand patting his side. Her head barely reached his navel.
“You little shit ass.” She laughed. “I can’t believe you have the nerve to show your face around here,” she teased. Gigi liked to pretend that she held a grudge against Jake for leaving town all those years ago, which she probably did. But she also happened to be susceptible to his charms whenever he decided to turn them on.
Sadie finished wiping the butter off while her heart was trying to do a triple-time waltz right out of her chest.
You are a twenty-eight-year-old adult woman, damn it. Pull yourself together, she reprimanded herself silently.
Yanking her hair back into a ponytail, she groaned in frustration when the elastic snapped. Her hair, normally wavy, had tightened into thick, spiraled curls. The strawberries she’d been simmering on the stove suddenly bubbled over, filling the air with a thick, pungent sweetness. When she reached to turn off the burner, static electricity zapped her fingertips.
Gigi strode through the door and took in the mess on the stove, Sadie’s hair, and her heaving chest.
“I’m fine. Just gathering my wits,” Sadie assured her.
“Rule number nine, sugar.”
“‘High emotion equals unpredictable magic,’” Sadie recited. “I know.”
“You remember what happened when that boy left?”
Sadie nodded. She’d nearly burned Gigi’s kitchen down.
“‘Guard your heart, for from it flows the wellspring of life,’” she quoted. “But don’t guard it so closely that you’ll never get hurt. Because if you can’t get hurt then you can’t love, and if you’re gonna live like that, I wouldn’t have read your damned tea leaves. Now, go on,” she commanded, pushing Sadie through the doors.
Sadie wanted to say something about the curse, about how she refused to love, about how absurd that advice was when she’d only seen Jake for less than five minutes in two days. But Gigi had an iron fist when she wanted to, and Sadie’s shuffling feet carried her forward with trepidation.
“Vinny was right,” Jake said around a mouthful of tart. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life.”
“You’re just trying to get back on my good side.”
His eyes pierced into hers. “Of course, I am. Have you ever been on your bad side? That place is hell.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have waltzed in here today, then,” she said without meaning to. Vinny’s eyes were darting back and forth between them like he was following a table tennis match.
“I deserve that,” he agreed, swallowing. “You know, when I left, you’d only just started baking. And now look at you. Owner of your own café.”
“Co-owner,” she corrected. “Gigi is really the brains of the operation.”
“Hush,” Gigi chided. “Sadie is the miracle worker. It all started with peaches, remember, toot?”
“Really?” Jake asked, his eyes catching Sadie’s.
“It’s, well, that’s what sparked the obsession with baking, yes. I started out with traditional peach pie. Then it was peach and thyme cobbler or peach hand pies with reduced bourbon and blueberry drizzle,” she rambled, not meeting Jake’s eye.
“Sadie makes the best peach pie in the county!” Gail piped up from the register, her chin tilted up and a proud smile gracing her face. “She’s won the county fair pie contest five years in a row.”
Gail, a compact firecracker in her late forties, put the Energizer Bunny to shame. She was endlessly telling everyone about Sadie’s accomplishments, like she was her own daughter. Her short black hair was streaked with gray and teased into an Afro that never seemed to stop moving.
“What was it that won this year?” she asked. “Oh!” she snapped her fingers, “Peach turnovers with sweet lemon cream drizzle and mint julep ice cream. Mmm, I can still taste it. Dee-vine.”
“The mint julep ice cream is Gigi’s recipe, though,” Sadie said.
“Used to make it for you and that brother of yours on hot summer nights when neither of you could sleep, little pissants. But you made it better than I ever did. And it went just right with the peaches.”
“I’ve always had a soft spot for peach pie,” Jake said, his eyes swiveling to Sadie again.
“Hmm,” Sadie intoned. “I don’t remember that.” As if. Her eyes glanced to the wooden sign hanging from the walkway out front: “A Peach in Thyme.” It had sounded innocuous enough when she came up with it. Peaches for Jake. Thyme for courage. Leaving one and embarking on the other. She had spent hours hand-drawing the logo: a full, ripe peach in the background, with another peach in front, cut in half so the pit was showing. “A Peach In Thyme” curved over the peaches while “Café and Bakery” curved underneath. And on either side were sprigs of thyme that were so lifelike you could almost smell the fragrant herb. Now that logo seemed like a beacon that had led him directly back into her life.
“Well, lucky for you, honey, Sadie’s always got some peach concoction here,” Gail told Jake. “Don’t matter what else she’s makin’ because she always makes whatever suits her fancy, but you can bet your boots that’s the truth. I don’t know how she gets ’em to produce year-round, but we all know Gigi Marie Revelare’s garden has got some kind of magic in it.”
“I hadn’t heard that,” Jake answered, finally tearing his gaze from Sadie and smiling at Gail.
“Everyone in town’s heard that, man,” Vinny piped up. “That place is legendary.”
“Anyway, you’ll have to get in line if you want to court our Sadie for her peach confections,” Gail said, giving Jake a sharp look.
“Not necessary,” Sadie said quickly, seeing Jake wince. Yeah well, he should be uncomfortable.
“Enough of that, you superstitious buffoons,” Gigi said with pursed lips and a terse shake of her head. “Now, Jake, family dinner is tomorrow night and you’re coming. No arguments. Be there at six.”
“What?” Sadie spluttered. “Gigi, I’m sure he already has plans. Or—”
“I don’t, actually.” Jake grinned. “But thanks for trying to get rid of me, Sade.”
Sadie winced again at the nickname. There were only two people who called her that. Both had broken her heart.
“As a matter of fact, I can walk right over. I’ve got a viewing of Rock Creek House later in the afternoon,” he added with a wry smile.
Sadie froze, her eyes trained on Jake. Was he doing this on purpose? She wracked her brain for something clever and nonchalant to say, but her thoughts were focused in on a tiny couch in an old attic and Jake’s fingers tracing lines on her palm.
“Why there?” she asked finally.
“Just looking for some peace and quiet,” he said, not quite meeting her eye. “I’ll tell you all about it at church tomorrow,” he continued. “For now, I’ve got to head to the station to finish up some paperwork, so I’ll take whatever peach desserts you have on hand.”
“On the house,” Gigi said, who’d already been wrapping up several to-go boxes filled with one of everything.
As Sadie watched, she couldn’t help but feel a tad bit betrayed.
“You sure know how to win a man over, Gigi Marie,” Jake declared. “Nice to see you, Sadie.” He winked before finally, finally heading for the door.