Page 39 of Fairy Cakes in Winter

I stole another glance at Mom and Alistair, and typed,What does that mean?

I made fairy cakes, Scott replied.

Still unclear, but I responded with a series of hearts, stars, and cupcake emojis, along with a simple,Excellent. I’m working on your campaign now. I’ll report with details asap.

Mom zipped her coat, kissed her husband, and whistled for George to follow as she stepped onto the front stoop of the rectory, covered with dormant ivy. George gave me another couple of minutes. He was a six-month-old red fox Lab with the attention span of a squirrel…unless there was food in the vicinity.

Three dancing dots.

Nothing.

Three more dancing dots.

I licked my lips, willing him to reply, but when Mom met me on the path, the dogs greeted each other like wild maniacs. I stuffed my cell into my pocket to help untangle their leashes and tried to forget about Scott for a while.

According to Mom, the foot traffic on any given day went from obsolete to concert-worthy in Bradford-on-Avon. Slight exaggeration, perhaps, but it was definitely a busy afternoon. Tourists spilled out of a bus parked off the main road near the old Saxon church while villagers hurried about their own business, shopping at the local market, hanging out at the local pub, or…walking their dogs.

My mother praised George for not stealing a donut from the young girl twirling on the sidewalk and hooked her arm through mine, momentarily resting her head on my shoulder.

“Have I told you how happy I am that you’re here, my darling?”

I smiled. “You might have mentioned it a time or two.”

“It’s a dream come true,” she gushed. “We’ll have to get in some more sightseeing this week. I’ll cancel my book club and take you to Salisbury Cathedral on Friday. It is absolutely breathtaking. Did you know it was built in the thirteenth century?”

“Um, no.”

“Maybe we should go Saturday so Giles can join us. He knows so much about history and it would be helpful to have our own tour guide to—”

“Mom.” I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and fixed her with a stern look. “I’m not interested in Giles. Leave it alone.”

“He’s so darn nice, though.”

“I’m just…not attracted to him.”

She sighed heavily. “You might as well tell me all about your business with the baker.”

My cheeks flushed on cue. “I told you everything already. I’m helping him…that’s all.”

“So you said.”

“We’re…casual, cordial business associates, Mom. That’s it.” I pulled my scarf higher around my neck to avoid checking messages. “And this is a good exercise for me because to be perfectly honest, I’m having doubts about my career move.”

“Oh, honey.”

“I know. Bad timing. I can’t help thinking maybe I was too hasty.” I held up my hand and continued, “You’ll probably say it’s normal to question major life choices as they’re about to unfold…and that might be true. But I’ve been doing some research for the bakery—analyzing sales graphs, and brainstorming hooks and slogans—and it’s so invigorating. I’ve missed this creative process. It’s like my brain has been thirsty to grapple with abstract concepts that make people stop and think and…hopefully buy something they need or feel strongly about.”

“Like pastry?”

I chuckled. “Yes. Exactly.”

Mom gave a weak smile as she led the way to a nearby park. She sat on a bench, cooing to her dogs as she dropped the leashes and fed them treats. I pulled my cell out, thinkingthismight be my chance to check my messages, when Mom spoke up.

“I’ve taken my share of risks in life, but I’ve never been as smart as you, Theo. I didn’t have one career path, let alone two. I sense you’re at a crossroads…professionally and possibly within yourself as well—and I’d like to give you a piece of advice. Always follow your heart.”

“I’m trying.”

She squeezed my fingers. “I know you are. And I commend your efforts. You’re only young once, and—hold that thought. George! Drop that.”