The House on Hancock Hill (23 page)

“Solid? What do they want it for, a murder weapon?”

Alice grinned at me. Her huge dark eyes made her pretty even with all her hair pinned under a hairnet and a chef’s hat on her head. “You can never have too much chocolate over Easter.”

“True. I’ll get started on the morning pastries and do the bunnies after that. Did you take the money from the register to the bank yesterday?”

“Yes, chef,” Alice said, and I rolled my eyes at her. I felt marginally better, even though the thought of making those Easter bunnies left me listless before I even started. It was time Easter was over. “Oh, David should be here any minute—is that all right, or do you want me to call him off?”

“Not at all. I’m sure we could do with the help, and I’d like to meet him.”

The morning was busy, and I didn’t get to take my lunch break until after two o’clock, even with David around. He was a good baker, quiet and competent and thoroughly head over heels for Alice, who hadn’t a clue.

I wasn’t hungry, but I needed to go through the sea of e-mails I’d gotten while I was gone. There were the usual from suppliers and clients, some requests for specialty cakes, and one from Daniel that I opened. He just wanted to know how I was doing, but didn’t ask to meet up. It left me feeling relieved. Nothing from Tom. Or Henry, but then I’d have been surprised if there was.

Easter Sunday was the madness I expected, but it died down shortly before lunchtime. I sent Alice and David home early and tried to fit back into the well-worn groove of what used to be my life. Easter was supposed to be all about cleansing and finding a path to the light, right? So why was I feeling like I was wandering around in the dark? Like I’d not only taken all the wrong turns but had run out of road?

A
WHOLE
week went by and I waited for the delight I had in baking to return but it never came. The more tired I grew, the less I slept. Ten days later, I stared at my reflection and it stared back, thin and hollow-eyed to the point where it looked like my bruises were back. My skin was pallid, heart beating too fast even though I’d just stepped out of bed. I felt on the verge of a panic attack constantly but even they wouldn’t come. I thought about calling Henry, Daniel, or Tom. I called no one.

At 3:00 a.m. I noticed a voice mail on my phone from Tom and deleted it without listening. Usually I liked the sound of rain on the skylight in my kitchen, but tonight it bothered me so I switched my laptop on, connected it to the Zeppelin on my bookcase, and hit shuffle. Something I didn’t remember buying began to fill the apartment, but it was soft and unobtrusive so I let it play.

Out of habit, I pulled all the ingredients for truffles from the cabinets, but I couldn’t face the chore of tempering chocolate so I put it all back. There were fifteen e-mails in my inbox, including one from Tom and one from Daniel. The one from Daniel I read. He’d met someone; he wanted to let me know before I heard from somebody else. He hoped we could still be friends. He hoped I was okay. I hoped so too, because the words made me feel nothing.

Without clicking on any of the other e-mails, I closed the window. My fingers itched to pick up the phone and call Henry, but I wouldn’t, even if it wasn’t the middle of the night. Not after the stark silence from his end. When was the last time I had heard from him? Was it really the weekend he’d been here? A month had slipped by and yet it felt twice that long. My time with him in Hancock felt so far away now.

Around five, I fell asleep on the couch. The alarm on my phone went off half an hour later, and I lay there blinking at the ceiling, thinking of the day ahead of me. Baking croissants and
pains au chocolat
. Dealing with customers. Making éclairs. Today I needed to start a new batch of orangettes, try that bagel recipe Denny had sent me. Test the chocolate raspberry tart I’d been planning on developing since Christmas. None of it appealed. I closed my eyes again.

At eight, my phone rang. “Where are you?” Alice snapped, and I sat up in alarm. Remnants of a dream danced before my eyes, the scent of cardamom lingering before it disappeared. In the background, the music was still going.

“Shit, what?”

“I have a line out the door and no breakfast pastries. I kept thinking you’d be on your way. You better tell me you’ve been baking at home.”

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I mumbled, “Fuck, I overslept.”

“Jason,” Alice said, voice tired. “I know you need to sleep more, but Christ, I can’t do this by myself.”

“I know. I’m on my way. I keep a batch of raw croissants in the freezer. Stick’em in the oven for ten minutes. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Not bothering to shower, I threw some clothes on and ran out of the door, skipping my morning dirty chai. It didn’t smell like heaven anymore these days anyway.

We didn’t catch up with work until 4:00 p.m. that day, which is when Alice cornered me in the office, looking frazzled. “We need to talk.”

“Look, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“You need a break,” she barreled on.

“What?” I stared at her in shock.

“You’re burned out. Ever since you got back from Florida. Actually, it might’ve been since you went to the UP, but I didn’t know you that well back then. I noticed that guy”—Did she mean Daniel?—“hasn’t been around, and it’s none of my business, I know that, but you’re suffering and you need a breather. I think you’re getting depressed.”

“I’m not depressed,” I said automatically, because the word brought images of Mom, of me sitting outside her bedroom door asking her to unlock it,
please Mommy
, and no.

“Maybe not yet, but you’re on your way there. David doesn’t like his current job, but he loved working for you. You already know he’s very good, and he’d follow your instructions to a T. Just… think about it.” She turned on her heels and left, shoulders set in a tight line. She looked exhausted.

I called Tom.

“Jason,” he immediately said after the first ring.

“Tom, hi. Is this a bad time? I can—”

“No, not at all.” There was a muffled, “Excuse me.” Footsteps. A door closing. “Jason, you have no idea how good it is to hear from you. I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I needed some time to myself.”

“Of course, I completely understand. Thanks for calling me. I didn’t want that last encounter to be it for us, you know? I’ve been worried about you.”

“Yeah.” I laughed weakly. “You’re not the only one. Apparently, I’m a mess; I’ve been told by my own employee to take a break.”

To my surprise, Tom jumped on that. “Oh, but you should! Jason, you could come here. It wouldn’t even have to mean anything, although I’d—I have a spare room that’s yours for as long as you need it.”

“That’s very kind, Tom, but I wouldn’t want to get in your way.”

“You wouldn’t be. It’s not like I’ve had anyone over since the last time we—anyway. Think about it.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. We can’t just take up where we left off eight years ago.”

“I know that, but….” He sighed. “I wouldn’t mind starting over again. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, Jason. I was a fool to let you go.”

My throat felt tight at hearing him say it. Part of me knew it was too little and nearly a decade too late, but the part of me that had been drowning in loneliness for weeks, or maybe a lot longer, hung on his words like a hooked fish to a line, and I felt myself smiling.

As if he could see me wavering across the miles, he added, “Hell, you could even rent out your place! With that added to the income of the two bakeries and the rent from the bookshop, you could probably live comfortably for quite a while.”

“Yeah,” I said softly, ducking my head. “Maybe I will.”

“Yes, Jason, please. You should. No pressure, just come see me, stay for a while. You can be a tourist in Boston as long as you want, visit all the places you used to go while we were at Harvard.” The more he spoke, the better the idea sounded, and I felt warm all over. “By the way, how were things with your mother?”

“It wasn’t worth the price of the flights,” I said dryly, unwilling to go into it.

“And what about the handsome man in your apartment?”

“Out of the picture.”

Tom fell silent and then said, so quietly I had to press the phone to my ear to hear him, “I don’t think I’ve been truly sorry for the way I hurt you all those years ago, until this moment.”

What
? I floundered for something to say. “Tom, I’m not… this isn’t your fault.”

“I know that. I know the solution can’t come from me, but I do think I’m part of the cause.” Cause of
what
? Tom cleared his throat and sighed. I had no idea what he was talking about, no idea what he meant at all. Or did I? Had I become cold? Had I allowed life to become a giant bitter pill that needed swallowing? I’d always thought I was just a creature existing in solitude—and comfortable there. But maybe that wasn’t so true anymore.

“All right,” I said, feeling as if I was giving in to something inevitable. “I need to prepare some stuff, but I’ll call you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Then I’ll see you soon. And Jason?” he added before I could hang up.

“Yeah?”

“I’m looking forward to it. I really am.”

“Me too,” I admitted and rang off.

When the last customer left, I told Alice, “All right, give David a call and ask him when he can start.”

“Oh, Jason, that’s good news. Even if it’s just part time or temporary to take the pressure off for a bit, it’ll do you a world of good.” She took off her apron and put away the mop and bucket.

“Actually,” I said when she straightened, “I was thinking of taking a sabbatical. If you think David will stick around, I might go away for a while.”

The smile fell off her face and, because I felt too fragile to hear any of her objections, I disappeared into the office so she couldn’t voice them.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I called Henry. He didn’t answer.

I
WAS
at home considering what to make for dinner, deciding I wasn’t really hungry, when my phone rang. The now-familiar flare of hope that it might be Henry made itself known but time had subdued it. I recognized the heartache was becoming muted, and while I suspected the pain would probably never really go away, I welcomed the numbness. There’d been a time when I thought I’d rather cling to missing Henry than not have him at all, but that was before it felt like opening my eyes to face a new day had become a burden.

It wasn’t Henry, it was Denny. I answered with, “Alice called you.”

“Too right she did. And don’t you think you should’ve talked to me before you considered giving up the bakery?”

“I’m not giving up anything,” I said. “I’m taking some time off. I
need
some time off.” The admission didn’t unman me as I’d expected it would.

“Oh.” I could tell he was taken aback. “Well… what will you do?”

Crap. Denny wasn’t going to like this. “I thought I’d maybe go visit Tom for a while.”

“
What
? Jason!”

“I know.”

“No, you clearly
don’t
know. I was there for the aftermath of your breakup. Jesus Christ, when I think of the state you were in, I still want to fly over there and punch the guy in the face.”

“That was a long time ago. He said—”

“Oh, I can imagine too well what he said. He’s alone, and he’s remembering how he had this really great guy and he let him go, so he wants that back. What do you think will happen when you do go back, huh? More of the same, that’s what.”

“Denny, it’s not like I’m going to move in with him and start—”

“You go there, Jason, that’s exactly what’s going to happen. You have some strange notion you don’t deserve to shoot for the moon. Well, fuck. If you told me you were going to the UP and after that vet of yours, I’d be cheering you on. But this? I can’t believe this.”

“Henry doesn’t want to see me anymore, Denny. He was here, and Tom showed up and, it’s just… it was a mess. There’s no point.”

Denny made a disgusted noise. “Fucking Tom. You want my advice, Jason?”
Not really
, I thought, but Denny gave it anyway. “You want to take time off? Great, go for it. If anyone deserves a break, it’s you. But don’t go to Boston. You don’t even have to go to Hancock if you think it’s not the time for that either. But I can guarantee you that you can’t make a worse decision than getting involved with that snake again.”

“Tom’s not a snake. He’s not a bad guy, Denny.”

“Maybe not, but he’s bad for
you
. The problem is, you send out this vibe that yells you don’t need anyone, you’ve coped just fine since you were nineteen, you’re fucking Miss Independent. And Tom buys that, which makes him wrong for
you
. Henry saw right through that armor of yours and knew all you needed, like every other person in this world, was someone to care for you. And that’s why he’s right.”

I couldn’t think of a single thing to say to that. Denny sighed on the other end of the line.

“Where was the last place you felt you could be yourself without any baggage? Maybe that’s where you should start.”

Chapter 15