“My turn.” Finley grabbed an egg and hit it on the rim. Miraculously, the white and yoke tumbled into the bowl. She tossed the shell beside Shannon’s and clapped her hands together with glee. “I did it!”
“Yes, you did.” Shannon handed her the open box of cake mix. “Take out the plastic container. We’ll open it and dump that into the bowl, too.”
With Shannon giving Finley the opportunity to be involved in every step of the process of cake baking, it took a long time to get the cake into the oven. They played two games of Go Fish while it baked. After lunch, they made simple peanut-butter icing, spread it across the two layers and slid the cake into a carrier.
Once again, they dressed Finley in two pair of jeans and two sweaters. When they stepped outside, the snow glowed like a million tiny diamonds. Rory carried Finley across the field that separated the two houses. They stomped the snow off their boots as they walked across Mary O’Grady’s back porch to the kitchen door.
Mary answered on the first knock. Short and round, with shaped gray hair, Mary wore a festive Christmas sweater and jeans. “Shannon!” She glanced at Finley and Rory. “And who is this?”
“Mary O’Grady, this is Rory Wallace and his daughter, Finley.”
As Shannon made the introduction, Rory hoped Finley wouldn’t say something awful about the sweet-looking woman’s sweater.
“Rory was on his way to Green Hill to take a look at the store when they were stranded on the highway and had the state police bring them to my house.” She offered the cake. “Since we’re all getting a little bored, we brought a cake to share.”
“Well, aren’t you sweet,” Mary said, opening her door to invite them in. She pinched Finley’s cheek. “And aren’t you adorable!” She smiled at Rory. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” he said, sliding Finley through the door. The kitchen hadn’t been remodeled the way Shannon’s had. Old-fashioned oak cupboards dominated the room. A rectangular table, with four ladder-back chairs, sat in the center.
Mary fussed over Finley. “Let me help you with your jacket.”
Finley glanced at her dad. Rory nodded his head slightly, indicating she should just go with it.
Unzipping Finley’s coat, Mary faced Shannon. “Sweetie, why don’t you put on a pot of coffee so we can enjoy that cake properly?”
Shannon laughed. “You’re a woman after my own heart, Mary.”
After removing her coat, she walked to the counter with the ease of someone who’d been there before. Rory watched her root through the cupboards to find the filters and coffee. She got water and measured grounds.
Mary helped Finley onto a chair. “And what can I get you to drink, sweetie?”
Rory held his breath. She hadn’t mentioned the sweater, but she’d gotten a little nervous over having a stranger help her with her jacket. They weren’t out of the woods yet.
Finley smiled. “Milk.”
Rory breathed again, as Shannon retrieved some plates and coffee mugs from the cupboard and joined them at the table. “That’ll only take a minute.”
Rory faced Mary. “You have a lovely home.”
She batted a hand in dismissal. “I had such plans for this, then my Joe died. And I just sort of lost interest.”
“But we’re hoping to have a contractor out here next summer, aren’t we, Mary?”
Mary’s face saddened a little more. “I thought you were leaving if you sold the store.”
“Probably.” She glanced at Rory, then back at Mary. “But we already looked at the books with the cupboard samples. All you need to do is finalize your choices and you can easily have the entire kitchen remodeled before fall. If you want, you can call me every night with an update or tell me your problems and I’ll help you figure out how to solve them.”
Mary sat beside Shannon and patted her hand. “You’re very good to me.”
Rory suppressed a smile. It seemed he and Finley weren’t the only strays that Shannon cared for. A few times it had popped into his head that her kindness to him and Finley might be an act of sorts to keep herself in his good graces when he looked at her store on Monday. He’d dismissed that thought, but now he could totally put it out of his mind. Shannon Raleigh was a genuinely nice woman.
His heart twisted a bit. She was a nice woman. And Finley liked her. If he were in the market for a romance, she’d be at the top of the candidates list.
But he wasn’t looking for a romance.
The coffeemaker groaned its final release and Mary jumped from the table. “Cut the cake, sweetie, and I’ll get the coffee.”
In a few minutes, everyone had a slice of cake and a cup of coffee or glass of milk. They talked some more about Mary’s plans to remodel her house, then Mary asked Finley about school and Finley launched into an unusually happy, unusually lengthy discussion of her classes, her classmates and recess.
Mary seemed to soak it all up, but Shannon really listened, really participated in the conversation with Finley.
When the cake was gone and the conversation exhausted, Shannon rose from the table and gathered their plates, which she slid into the dishwasher. “We really have to get going. Not only do we have to make something for dinner, but it will also be dark soon.”
Mary rose, too. “That’s the bad thing about winter. It gets dark too early. And with all these clouds, you can’t count on the light of the moon to get you home.”
Finley laughed. “That’s funny.”
Mary tickled her tummy. “I’m a funny lady.” She pulled Finley’s jacket from the back of her chair and helped her slide into it. “You can come back anytime you like.”
Finley nodded.
“Just always remember to bring cake.”
At that, Finley giggled.
After sliding into her parka, Shannon picked up her cake carrier and headed for the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Oh, you don’t have to. I’m fine.”
“I know, but Mom and Dad are arriving one day this week for the holiday. So you’ll be invited to Christmas Eve dinner. I’ll need to give you the time.”
“Sounds great.”
Shannon gave her a hug, opened the door and stepped out onto the cold porch.
Carrying Finley, Rory followed her. “She’s great.”
Leading them down the stairs, Shannon said, “She is. But she was even funnier when her husband was alive.” She peeked back at Rory. “He had a heart attack two years ago. She’s really only now getting back into the swing of things.”
“That’s hard.”
“Yeah.” She caught his gaze again. “But lots of life is hard.”
He knew she was referring to her divorce, which she’d barely explained. Still he could tell that life—marriage—hadn’t treated her any more fairly than it had treated him. It was no wonder they got along so well. Both had been burned. Both knew nothing was certain.
They finished the walk chitchatting about nothing, making conversation to alleviate the boredom. But when they got into the house and Shannon pulled off her knit cap, throwing snow around her kitchen when she freed her hair, a knot formed in Rory’s