Sweet Heart (The Hearts of Sawyers Bend #2) - Ivy Layne Page 0,21
in the middle of the bakery kitchen.
Pretending I didn't see Grams, I said, “You didn't bring anything for yourself. Are you going to keep me company while I have lunch? Do you want a drink?”
Grams set down a stack of empty trays on the worktable, her eyes popping between the two of us, bright with curiosity.
“Royal Sawyer. Those are some nice flowers you sent my granddaughter. And now you're bringing her lunch?”
“How are you, Ms. Hutchins?” he asked with a deferential dip of his head. Grams shot me a look. I could practically hear her voice. The boy has pretty manners. He did.
“I'm good, Royal, I'm good. Even better now that Daisy's mama is home. All we need is her daddy and I'll have all my chicks in the nest, so, I'm pretty damn fine.” Grams pulled her long gray braid over her shoulder and crossed her arms over her tie-dyed Phish T-shirt. “You courting my girl, Royal?”
“Yes, ma’am, I am. Or I’m trying to. She says she’s not interested.”
“Oh, I’m sure my Daisy is smart enough to know a good thing when she sees it. She's a clever girl. She's taken over running the bakery, you know. And she has plans for expansion. Outdoor seating, sandwiches for lunch, and new ovens. She set the budgets, figured out how to put aside the money and everything. We’re almost ready to start, right, baby?”
My stomach clenched. We would have been almost ready to start. Except the money was gone.
Chapter Nine
Daisy
If I had the guts, I’d have told Grams right then. I even opened my mouth, drawing some strange sense of reassurance from Royal's presence at my side. Why that was, I didn't know.
I didn't want Royal to know how dumb I'd been, did I?
I didn't. I didn't want anyone to know I'd been stupid enough to give my father money, but somehow, I felt like Royal would understand.
I closed my mouth and said nothing, just listened to Grams describe how we were going to turn the scrubby patch of grass on the side of the building into a deck with pretty, black wrought-iron tables and chairs and umbrellas for shade in the summer. I already had in mind the exact planters I’d put out, the summer blooms to fill them. Bright and pretty, so they’d catch tourists’ eyes from the sidewalk.
My chest ached to know it wouldn't happen this year.
It's okay, I reminded myself. I’d made a mistake. Eventually, I'd get the courage to tell everyone, and I wouldn't make the same mistake again. Nothing else I could do but move on.
If only reminding myself of all that made me feel better. It did, a little. Mostly, I still felt like a gigantic dumbass.
“You've gone silent with hunger,” Grams said, giving me a funny look. “I'll leave you to your lunch. I'm just going to grab that chocolate cake from the cooler.”
“I'll get the toffee-chip cookies lined up on the tray for you,” I said, glad to have something to do other than talk about our plans for the bakery.
Grams swung open the door to the cooler and let out a gasp. “Daisy, these violets are a work of art. Royal, come look at this and see how talented my Daisy is. You'd never believe those flowers were made of sugar.”
Royal looked over her shoulder into the cooler and then back at me. “You made that? The flowers and the vines and stuff? Out of sugar?”
I concentrated on lining up toffee chip cookies on the tray, a little embarrassed at the way they were raving over the cake. I’d always loved decorating cakes, and I was pretty good at it.
“Some of the violets are actually real violets that I candied. The rest of the violets and the vines and leaves I made from sugar and a kind of gum paste and then painted with edible color. It's for the wedding over at The Inn tomorrow evening.”
“The garden wedding?”
“Do you have more than one weekday wedding?” I asked, curious. Most of our wedding cakes were for Saturdays, but the date was important to the bride and groom, and they didn't care if their wedding was on a Tuesday.
Royal laughed. “Not this week. Three over the weekend, though. The event planning staff is going a little crazy.”
I handed off the tray of cookies to Grams and watched her hustle through the kitchen door to the shop. “Is that what messed up your morning? The weddings?” I asked.