“Nothing.” She glanced at the ceiling and beyond. “I think Mary’s smiling down on me and the fact that I did something in support of the Cupcake Lovers. That’s enough for me.”
“What is it with you and your fascination with Mary Rothwell?”
“Why didn’t you taste my cupcakes?”
Sam was still focused on her mouth and distracted by the sexual tension pulsing between them. When she met his gaze, Sam felt a full-body zap. “About last night—”
“Uh-uh.” She took that as her cue to leave. “Off to save Gabby’s ass,” she said as she pushed away from the counter, mug in hand. “Love the designs you left on the table for the vintage-looking cabinets, by the way. Can you really build those from scratch?”
“Yeah.”
“Impressive.”
“Harper,” Sam said, causing her to pause on the threshold. “I thought you bought this place as a getaway. A place to unwind.”
She cast him an enigmatic look before sliding out of the room. “What do you think last night was?”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Luke was reminded yet again of how much he hated hospitals when he accompanied his dad to the medical center. It didn’t matter that the sun was shining or that it was a balmy seventy-nine degrees. His mood was sour and his blood ice cold. Had his dad taken a turn for the worse? Had the cancer spread? Would he need to undergo surgery? Or had there been a glitch in the previous assessment? Would he be cleared to go home?
Needless to say they were all praying for the latter.
“I hate waiting rooms,” Rocky said as she paced back and forth.
“Join the club,” Luke said. This one, in particular, rattled his composure. The few other people awaiting news about loved ones looked stone-cold miserable. The place was a chaotic mess. Magazines scattered all over. Crushed beverage cups abandoned willy-nilly instead of properly discarded. The ugly blue carpet was sun-spotted and worn from countless visitors, countless worried souls who paced incessantly like his sister.
Luke turned his focus from Rocky and the disheveled room to his composed and ever-tidy mom. Her chin-length hair, curly and blonde like her daughter’s, was pulled back in a neat ponytail. Like Rocky, she wore no makeup. She didn’t need it. She was fifty-seven and looked maybe forty-five. She’d married young, had her kids young, and had often boasted about her good fortune. About how her golden years would be her best.
Only they’d turned out to be the worst.
Luke’s heart ached as he tried to read his mom’s mind. She was sitting two chairs down reading a paperback book. Kaye Monroe had been a pillar of strength throughout Jerome’s diagnosis and treatment. She never doubted her husband’s ability to persevere. Never fell apart. Yet Luke knew she was shaken to her kind-hearted core. What kind of strength did it take to keep that kind of intense fear bottled? How the hell did she do it? “You look so calm, Mom.”
“Not calm,” she said. “Patient and optimistic. This has pretty much been my life for the last several months. I’ve learned to cope.”
Luke and Dev traded a look. They were of the same mind. Pissed that their dad had kept his condition a secret for so long. Pissed that their mom had had to “cope” on her own.
Jayce strolled into the waiting room carrying a tray with four steaming cups. “I sampled mine,” he said. “Swill compared to Moose-a-lotta’s coffee, but loaded with caffeine.”
“Come to papa,” Luke said. He’d barely slept last night and considering the bedraggled look of his brother and sister and Jayce, he knew they’d suffered the same restlessness.
Rocky paced by and grabbed her cup without missing a step. When riled or upset, Rocky became a frenzied blur. That was her coping mechanism. “Why is it taking so long?”
“It’s been less than an hour, dear,” Kaye said.
“The scan should be over soon,” Dev said. “I was told the images would be stored electronically on a computer and that after reviewing, the radiologist would inform Dad’s doctor, who promised to expedite the entire process. We should have a report shortly.”
“Pacing won’t help, dear.”
“Cool your heels, Dash.” Jayce moved in and took his soon-to-be-wife in hand. “You’re messing with your mom’s zen,” he said with a soft smile.
Luke sipped his coffee and tried to relax. Any other time he would have enjoyed being in Florida. Especially in February. A respite from the harsh Vermont winter. Not that he typically minded the cold. But who wouldn’t enjoy flying south for a few days? A few days of warmth. A few days of sand and surf.
Out of nowhere, Luke imagined Rae and her kickass curves. He pictured her in a tiny bikini. Imagined them walking along the beach, hand in hand with a little girl or boy, splashing up the frothy waves, kicking up sand. He’d have to make that happen someday. In a heartbeat, Luke imagined a few other happy scenarios—all involving Rae and their kid. Tension eased from his shoulders, his head throbbed a little less. Apparently fantasizing was Luke’s coping mechanism.
He’d spoken to Rae a few hours earlier. A brief call. He’d promised to call her when he knew the results. Her trip to the hospital had turned out well. Maybe Luke was on a roll. Maybe this visit would also end with tears of relief.
Because the scan wasn’t invasive, his dad would come walking into the waiting room any minute now and then, like Dev said, they’d know something conclusive not long after. Come on, good news!
Luke glanced at the television hanging on the opposing wall, seeking mindless distraction. Some gossip show—Hollywood Insider? Hollywood something. The sound was down. The featured reporter babe was gossiping about whatever. Several candid photos scrolled by—Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan, Miley Cyrus …
“What the … Is that Rae?” Luke bolted out of his seat. Coffee sloshed on his pants. “Damn.” He ignored the burn and moved closer to the screen. Rocky and Jayce moved closer, too.
“It is,” Rocky said.
“That second shot,” Jayce said. “That’s Main Street.”
“Paparazzi in Sugar Creek?” Kaye asked.
Luke stared at the headline at the bottom of the screen, scrambled to get the letters straight in his head. “Trust Fund Baby—”
“—Turns Philanthropist,” Rocky finished.
And just like that the show jumped to the next story.
“What’s going on?” Kaye asked.
Luke had a clue, he just hadn’t expected the news to break so soon and not while he was away. He turned and saw Dev, Rocky, and Jayce scrolling through their smart phones.
“It’s all over the Net,” Dev said.
“Mostly entertainment venues,” Jayce said.
“This has Harper written all over it,” Rocky said.
Still focused on his phone, Dev asked, “See that bit about the Cupcake Lovers self-publishing a recipe book? What’s that about?”
Rocky shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“You have a signed contract with Highlife.”
“I know.”
Luke thumbed his own phone. “I’ll call Rae.”
“I’ll call Chloe,” Dev said.
“Calling Harper,” Rocky said.
“I’ll do my thing,” Jayce said, which meant some sleuthing.
“I’ll be reading,” Kaye said, sounding irritated now. “Someone let me know something when someone knows anything. Wait. I’ll call Daisy. She knows everything about the Cupcake Lovers.”
Luke crossed the room, searching for a quiet corner as everyone connected with someone in Sugar Creek.