He reached for one as Nonni watched, waiting for Sierra’s response.
“They’re very good. Is that a yeast dough?” Sierra asked after finishing the small date-filled pastry.
“It is.” His grandmother glowed as she began to tell the younger woman all about her kilecheh.
His grandmother loved sharing traditions and loved a willing listener even more.
Sierra asked questions in her serious way. She wasn’t a person who gave false compliments, he realized. She seemed very detail-oriented, matter-of-fact in her questioning. He guessed this to be the reason Jack West had given her the job of running the Stable. She also baked. He knew this because Melody had shown him photos of the wedding cakes, going on and on about how amazing and beautiful they were.
He’d half listened because at the time he hadn’t met Sierra. He hadn’t known she had hazel eyes, auburn hair and a way of avoiding eye contact when she was uncomfortable. She also had a way of smiling that took a man by surprise.
At that moment she bestowed one of those rare smiles on his grandmother. Nonni beamed and issued another invitation besides helping with the honeymoon quilt. She would love for Sierra to help her bake pastries and cookies for Christmas. It was a large undertaking. Each year his grandmother baked for several days then she would take the baked goods to her old church in Tulsa, to other Assyrians.
His grandmother had a big heart. She loved to nurture. He could see the gleam in her eye. She’d found a likely candidate for all of that nurturing.
Fortunately people started to arrive. His grandmother and Sierra worked side by side, serving cake, cupcakes and pies. As people came up to their table, his grandmother hugged them and doled out compliments and encouragement. Sierra took the role as the quiet one, working to keep the sweet treats flowing.
“Max, we need another cake. Hurry, hurry, slice it up and bring it over.” Nonni issued the order without looking.
He turned and nearly tripped over a small child. He recognized her immediately. “Linnie, how are you?”
The little girl with the tangled blond hair now had her curls in a ponytail. She wore a blue dress and tennis shoes. Her eyes flashed with recognition and she gave him a slight smile, but then she started searching for her mother.
“Linnie, there you are.” A harried-looking young woman with a baby on her hip, and leading a child a little younger than Linnie, approached.
“You must be Linnie’s mom. I’m Max St. James.”
Her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. “Oh, Mr. St. James, I’m so sorry she’s bothering you. I’ve been meaning to thank you for helping us find her.”
“I’m not really the one who found her...” He hesitated. “Miss—”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Patsy Jay.” She took his hand in a hearty handshake. “I’m so glad to meet you. And I’m so thankful for what you did to help find my daughter.”
“Allow me to introduce you to Sierra Lawson. She’s the one who actually found Linnie.”
He pointed her toward the dessert table and Sierra. Linnie had already spotted her and he watched as Sierra squatted so that she could be eye to eye with the child.
“Hey, Linnie! Imagine seeing you here!” Sierra gave the little girl a warm smile.
Linnie flung her thin arms around Sierra’s neck.
“I got in trouble,” she told Sierra.
Patsy Jay stepped close to her daughter. “She doesn’t usually take to strangers. It’s been hard for us since...” Patsy shook her head. “Since the accident. I’m going to nursing school. I’m gone a lot, working and attending classes. My mom watches these three. It’s a lot.” Her cheeks burned scarlet. “I’m sorry. You didn’t need to hear all of that.”
Sierra stood and he noticed that Linnie had hold of her hand. “Patsy, you don’t have to apologize for doing your best for your family.”
Patsy teared up. “Thank you so much. And I wanted to invite you and Mr. St. James to my house for dinner. I live in trailer 12 at the Cardinal Roost. I don’t have a lot but I’d like to do something for the two of you.”
“Oh, I...” Sierra glanced down at the little hand holding hers.
Patsy bit down on her bottom lip. “I understand if you can’t make it.”
“Of course we can,” Max responded. “When?”
“Thursday at six?” Patsy’s hand rested on her daughter’s shoulder. “We would like that, wouldn’t we, Linnie?”
The little girl nodded.
Sierra handed Linnie a piece of chocolate cake on a small paper plate. “We would love to come to dinner.”
The word we took Max by surprise. No doubt she didn’t mean to make it seem as if they were a couple. They were barely acquaintances. Furthermore, he hadn’t been part of a we in years. He had a habit of letting women down and he guessed that Sierra had been let down by too many people in her life.
Their gazes connected and he knew that her thoughts had taken the same path as his. If they allowed people to connect them as a couple, things would spiral out of control.
That was the last thing either of them needed, and the one thing Sierra didn’t need was to be another person he let down.
Monday morning Sierra woke up to a clap of thunder that shook the windows. The weather had been warm but a cold front had arrived and the two air masses collided to form one powerful storm system. She prayed it would move through quickly with no real severe weather. With Christmas less than a month away, what they needed was a good cold snap, maybe some snow. But they definitely didn’t need damaging winds or tornadoes.
Peeking out the window, she shivered. The sky was one massive dark gray cloud. The storm pounding the side of her apartment required baking.
In the kitchen she flipped on all of the lights, flooding the room in nearly startling brightness. She told the smart speaker to play songs from her panic playlist, smiling at the name she and Kylie had used for the songs that were meant to draw her out of a panic attack. The first song was one she loved to sing along to.
As she sang out loud, she started boiling hot water for her tea and put two slices of bread in the toaster. Next she grabbed a cookbook, the one with all of her favorite cake recipes. She browsed through the pages and finally went to her go-to vanilla cake. A lovely, simple cake made with real vanilla.
She pulled out bowls, beaters, ingredients and lined it all up on the counter. Baking had been her escape for years. As a girl enduring her parents’ fights, she would bake. Bake and keep to herself, hiding the shadows of her life so that others couldn’t see what was going on inside the lovely brick facade of the Lawson home. Her banker father would leave the house, briefcase in hand, smiling at neighbors. Her mother would slide designer sunglasses on her face to hide the bruises.
Sierra would bake. And eat. Now she baked but she didn’t eat the cupcakes, cakes and pies. She gave them away to the other residents of Mercy Ranch, the place she’d called home for the past three years.
She sifted together the dry ingredients, enjoying the process, the smells that changed as she added each one. Vanilla happened to be her favorite.
She prepared the round cake pans and poured the batter in equal amounts. There was another crash of thunder and all the windows rattled from the power of the storm. She nearly dropped the bowl. Her hands shook. She wrapped them in her apron