Every Kind of Heaven

“But did she listen to me? No, she had to have her own way. We ought to have gone with a professional, not some iffy girl who thinks because our family is richer than hers, she has the right to charge us an arm and a leg.”

He laid a hand on his mom’s arm to stop her. Sometimes she got such a wind going—sort of like gravity’s effect on a snowball rolling downhill—that she simply couldn’t realize what she was saying. “Chloe’s happy, and that’s all that matters. Besides, how much did Ava charge?”

“Ava, is it?” Mom’s face pinched, something only she could do and still look dignified. “I wouldn’t be so familiar with her if I were you. Her family has money, goodness, but that mother of hers.”

“People have been known to say the same thing about Chloe.” He said it gently, because he knew his mother didn’t mean to be harsh. She simply wasn’t aware of it. “I think Ava did an amazing job. So does everyone else in the room. Maybe you should learn to like sweet. You’re awfully fond of the bitter.”

“That had better not be a veiled reference to me, young man.” His mom smiled and tried to hide it, but her eyes were twinkling. “I work hard for this reputation. If people aren’t afraid of you, they take advantage. Now, come with me and say hello to a few of my dear friends.”

“To the daughters of your friends, you mean.”

“Crystal Frost is back from her disastrous divorce to that big real estate broker in Seattle. She’s perfect for you.”

“Perfect? I don’t think so.” He took a bite of cake, and sweetness flooded his mouth. The frosting was as rich as cream cheese, and the cake was delicious and buttery. Perfect.

“Hello, Brice. Excuse me.” One of his mother’s friends had sauntered over and gestured toward the cake. “Lynn, this is all so lovely. I came to plead for the name of the designer. My Carly must have a cake like this for her wedding.”

Brice knew it would probably drain his mother of her life energy to say something kind about anyone. She was his mom, so he tried to save her from herself. And he wanted to help the cute baker, even if she didn’t want to have coffee with him. “Ava McKaslin is the designer and I highly recommend her. Chloe loved working with her.”

“Oh, let me think which McKaslin girl. Oh, of course. The friend of your sister’s. One of the twins?”

“Yep. She has a shop off Cherry Lane. My company starts renovation on it this week.”

“I know which shop you mean. Why, thank you, Brice. You do know that my Crystal is back from Seattle. She’s here somewhere.” Maxime scanned the room. “Where did she go?”

Uh-oh. Time to escape while he could. “I have to go. Mrs. Frost, it was good seeing you again. Bye, Mom.”

He left quickly and didn’t look back. It wasn’t until he hit the foyer that he realized he still had hold of his dessert plate. Ava’s cake. As if he couldn’t quite let her go.

The only reason Ava heard her cell ring was because of the break between songs. The electronic chime echoed in the silence of her shop’s kitchen. She set down her pastry cone, hit the Pause button on her CD player and went in search of her phone.

Not in her apron pocket. Not on the kitchen counter. She followed the electronic ringing to her gym bag. She unzipped the outside compartment and ta da, there it was.

As she grabbed her phone, she realized it was after four. Mrs. Carnahan was supposed to drop by for the birthday cake in ten minutes! Good thing it was almost done. Well, it would be done if she’d stop fussing. But after this morning’s disaster, she wanted this cake to be perfect.

She flipped open the phone. “I’m late, I know. I was supposed to call an hour ago. My bad.”

Instead of her sister’s sensible response, a man’s resonant chuckle vibrated in her ear. “Keeping your boyfriend waiting?”

It took her a moment to place that voice. Brice Donovan. If he was calling, that could only mean one thing. “Chloe wasn’t happy with the cake?”

Disappointment drained her and she sank onto the floor next to her gym bag. Not only had she failed at something she’d tried her hardest at, something that she was good at, but she’d let down a friend. “I’m so sorry.”

“Now, wait one minute. That’s not why I’m calling.”

“It’s not?”

“No.” His voice warmed like melting chocolate, kind and friendly. “I’m calling to thank you. You made her very happy. She didn’t want to cut into the cake because it was too pretty.”

“Really? Chloe was happy? Whew!” That was a relief. Now, if she could just forget flinging insults, she’d be doing well. Don’t even think about what happened, she told herself. Look forward, not back. Don’t dwell on what went wrong.

Problem was, that was easier said and not so easy to do. She took a quivering breath. “Good. Then my work is done.”

“And your work is?”

“To make this world a sweeter place one cake at a time. I know it’s not solving world strife, but it’s the only talent I seem to have, so I’m going with it.”

“Surely that’s not your only gift.”

“Uh, you don’t want to hear the long list of disasters I’ve left in my wake. Speaking of which, I have a cake to get ready and box for a client.”

“You can’t do that and talk to me?”

“If I want to drop the cake. I need two hands.”

Don’t think of him in that tux, she thought. Or how amazing he looked. Or how kind he’d been when he’d helped her recover her keys. What had he been thinking when she’d driven away? That unreadable expression in his eyes came back to her now and unsettled her. Why?

Just forget it, Ava. Just forget him. “I appreciate the call. Thank you.”

“Well, now, I’m not done with you yet.”

“Why am I not surprised?” She couldn’t keep the curiosity out of her voice. Or the smile. Both the humiliation she’d felt and the failure seemed far away. Maybe it was because she knew this was a pity call. He felt sorry for the dopey cake lady. Face it, he was Mr. Wow, and she was lucky to keep the date and time straight.

That meant this was a business call. How great was that? She hadn’t totally embarrassed herself beyond redemption after all. Cool. “Hopefully you’re interested in placing an order?”

“You’ve got a renovation coming up. How are you going to fill your orders?”

He probably knew about the upcoming renovation because Chloe had been the one to recommend a construction company. “I’m planning on using my sister’s kitchen. She’s spending most of her evenings with her fiancé and his daughter, so I’ve commandeered her condo.”

“Then maybe you and I can talk later. Say, Monday morning, bright and early?”

“Oops. Can’t. I have construction dudes coming by bright and early.”

“That’s a coincidence because I—”

“I’m totally sorry, but my customer is here. Can I call you back and we can make an appointment? I can show you my catalogue and have some samples ready.”

“Why don’t I come by on Monday sometime?” Brice leaned back in his car seat and could see the bakery’s front door over the curve of the side mirror. There was a grandmotherly woman at the front door, waving at Ava through the glass.

“Thanks, Mr. Donovan. I really appreciate this. Bye!” There was a click in his ear.

He slid his sunglasses down his nose to get a better view as the front door swung open and there was Ava, dressed in her jeans and that yellow T-shirt, her hair tied back and her genuine smile bright as she waved her hands, talking away to her customer.

Okay, this isn’t how he figured things would go. Again. Ava wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

She caught his gaze again, moving back into sight with a cake made like a giant dump truck. The red chassis and the bright blue bed made it look like the real toy. Even from a distance, he could see the details. The driver behind the steering wheel, the big black tires, and real-looking dirt.

When she opened the other box, he watched the grandmother’s face brighten a notch. There were what had to be small cake rocks about the size of his thumb in chubby yellow buckets. One for each little guest, he figured.