Where you could find your next romance…

Can she cook up love?

Brand-new bakery owner Sasha Manning didn’t anticipate that the teenager she hired would have such an attractive father. Back home after years away, Sasha still smarts from falling for a man who seemed too good to be true. Divorced single dad Dwight Adams will have to prove to Sasha that he’s the real deal…and once again learn to trust someone with his heart along the way.

National Bestselling Author Rochelle Alers

Since 1988, national bestselling author ROCHELLE ALERS has written more than eighty books and short stories. She has earned numerous honours, including the Zora Neale Hurston Award, the Vivian Stephens Award for Excellence in Romance riting and a Career Achievement Award from RT Book Reviews. She is a member of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, Inc., Iota Theta Zeta Chapter. A full-time writer, she lives in a charming hamlet on Long Island. Rochelle can be contacted through her website, www.rochellealers.org

Also by Rochelle Alers

Home to Wickham FallsHer Wickham Falls SEALThe Sheriff of Wickham FallsDealmaker, HeartbreakerThis Time for Keeps

Claiming the Captain’s Baby Twinsfor the Soldier

Sweet Silver BellsSweet Southern NightsSweet Destiny

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Second-Chance Sweet Shop

Rochelle Alers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90316-9

SECOND-CHANCE SWEET SHOP

© 2019 Rochelle Alers

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Quote

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Extract

About the Publisher

Give her the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates.

—Proverbs 31:31

Chapter One

The chilly February temperature and lightly falling rain did little to dispel the excitement coursing through Sasha Manning. She’d lost track of the number of times she had glanced at the wall clock. It was a week before Valentine’s Day and the grand opening of her patisserie. Sasha’s Sweet Shoppe was located on Main Street, in the heart of Wickham Falls’ downtown business district. The mayor, several members of the town council and the chamber of commerce had promised to be on hand at ten for the ribbon-cutting photo op.

“You can keep staring at that clock, but it isn’t going to make the hands move any faster.”

Sasha turned to look at her mother. Charlotte Manning had worked tirelessly alongside her over the past four months to get the shop ready. And Sasha knew Charlotte, who’d had a mild heart attack nearly a year ago, could not continue to put in such long hours. Several days ago, she’d posted a help-wanted sign in the front window.

“I keep wondering if they’re going to cancel the photo shoot because of the weather.” The words were barely off her tongue when the town’s photographer knocked lightly on the door. Sasha pressed her palms together to conceal their trembling. The door chimed when she opened it.

“Good morning, Jonas.”

“Good morning, Sasha. Charlotte.”

Jonas Harper, performing double duty as the photographer for the town and The Sentinel, Wickham Falls’ biweekly, set his leather equipment bag on the floor and then walked over to the showcases filled with colorful confectionaries. “They look too pretty to eat.”

Sasha smiled at the middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper ponytail. She’d spent the past two days putting together an assortment of tarts, tortes, cookies and pies. Earlier that morning she’d baked several loaves of white, wheat, rye and pumpernickel bread. “I’ve put aside samples for you and the others.”

Jonas unzipped his bright yellow waterproof poncho. “Is there someplace where I can hang this up?”

Charlotte stepped forward and held out her hand. “I’ll take that for you.”

Sasha watched her mother as she took Jonas’s poncho, offering him a bright smile. At fifty-six, Charlotte was still a very attractive woman, despite what she’d had to go through during her volatile marriage to a man she was never able to please. Her blond hair was now a shimmering silver and there were a few noticeable lines around her bright blue eyes.

As the youngest of three, and the only girl, Sasha would cover her head with a pillow to drown out what were daily arguments between her parents. She had counted down the time until she graduated high school and could leave Wickham Falls, as her brothers had done when they enlisted in the military. It had been more than a decade since she’d called Wickham Falls home, but now she was back to stay.

“This place is really nice,” Jonas said, as he glanced around the bakery. “It reminds me of some of the little bakeshops I saw when I visited Paris.”

Sasha nodded, smiling. The colorful wallpaper stamped with images of pies, cakes, muffins and cupcakes provided a cheerful backdrop for twin refrigerated showcases, recessed lights, a quartet of pendants, and a trio of bistro tables and chairs. She had also purchased a coffee press, a cappuccino machine and a commercial blender to offer specialty coffees.

“That’s what I had in mind when I decided to open this place.” Although she’d never been to Paris, she had watched countless televised travel and cooking shows featuring French cooking to know exactly how she wanted her patisserie to look. Her mother had teased her, saying perhaps the residents of The Falls weren’t ready for fancy tarts and pastries with names they weren’t able to pronounce. But Sasha refused to let anyone dissuade her from her dream of starting over as a successful pastry chef.

When growing up she hadn’t known what she wanted to do or be. Everything changed, once she left Wickham Falls and moved to Tennessee to accept a position as a companion to an elderly woman. Adele Harvey, the former English teacher and reclusive widow of a man who made a fortune buying and selling real estate, had become the grandmother Sasha never had.

Sasha saw the ad online for a live-in companion and filled out an application, despite not having any experience aside from occasionally babysitting her neighbors’ young children. Two weeks following her high school graduation Sasha boarded a bus for a trip to Memphis, Tennessee, for an in-person interview with Mrs. Harvey and the attorney overseeing the legal affairs of the childless widow. It had taken the older woman only ten minutes to announce she was hired, and when Sasha returned to Memphis in mid-August it was as a first-class passenger on a direct flight, followed by a chauffeur-driven limo to what would become her new home.

The bell chimed again, breaking into her thoughts, and the editor of the newspaper walked in. Langston Cooper had left The Falls to pursue a career as a journalist. For more than a decade he had covered the Middle East as a foreign correspondent for an all-news cable station before returning to the States to write several bestselling books. His life mirrored Sasha’s when he married a popular singer, but the union was dissolved amid rumors that she’d had an affair with an actor. Langston returned to Wickham Falls, took over ownership of the dwindling biweekly and within two years had increased the newspaper’s circulation and advertising revenue.

Taking off his baseball cap, he smiled at Sasha, exhibiting straight, white teeth in his light brown complexion. Growing up, Langston and her brother had been what folks said were as thick as thieves. You’d never see one without the other.

Walking over to him, she pressed her cheek to his smooth-shaven jaw. “Thank you for coming.”

Langston dropped a kiss on the mass of curly hair framing Sasha’s round face. “Did you actually think I would miss the grand opening of The Falls’ celebrity pastry chef?”

Sasha blushed to the roots of her natural strawberry-blond hair. She’d dyed the bright red strands a nondescript brown following her divorce to avoid attracting the attention of eagle-eyed paparazzi who’d hounded her relentlessly once the word was out that she was no longer married to country-music heartthrob Grant Richards.

“Have you forgotten that I’m not the only celebrity in The Falls?” she teased with a smile. “After all, you are a New York Times bestselling author.”

Langston nodded. “I didn’t come here for you to talk about me, but about you. After photos and the speeches, I’d like you to schedule some time for an interview for The Sentinel’s Who’s Who column.”

Since coming back to The Falls Sasha had discovered her hometown had changed—and for the better. The list of those returning to Wickham Falls to put down roots was growing. Langston had become editor in chief of The Sentinel, Seth Collier was now sheriff, and Sawyer Middleton headed the technology department for the Johnson County Public Schools system. And for Sasha it was a no-brainer. The Falls was the perfect place for her to start over with a business where she did not have a competitor.

“Can you call me in a couple of weeks?” she asked.

“You’ve got it.” Langston leaned closer and kissed her cheek. “Good luck and congratulations,” he said as he left.

She hoped the samples she planned to offer those coming into the shop for her grand opening would generate return customers. A nervous smile barely lifted the corners of her mouth when she spied the mayor, several members of the town council and the head of the chamber of commerce through the plate-glass window.

“It’s showtime, Natasha,” Charlotte whispered.

“Yes, it is, Mama.” Her mother was the only one who had refused to call her by her preferred name. When her mother brought her home from the hospital, her three-year-old brother could not pronounce Natasha; he’d begun calling her Sasha and the name stuck. She walked over to the door and opened it.

Sasha let out an audible sigh when the town officials filed out of the shop, each with a small white box, stamped with the patisserie’s logo, and filled with miniature samples of red velvet, pumpkin spice, lemon-lime and chocolate hazelnut cupcakes. Cupcakes had become her signature specialty.

She pushed her hands into the pockets of the pink tunic with her name and the shop’s logo stamped over her heart. “Even though Mayor Gillespie was a little long-winded, I think it went well.”

“It went very, very well,” Charlotte said in agreement. “Jonas took wonderful shots of the shop, and after your interview with Langston I’m willing to bet that you won’t be able to keep up with the demand for your cupcakes.”

Charlotte gave her daughter a reassuring smile. When she had come back six months before she had felt like crying when she opened the door to see her last born appear to be a shadow of the young woman who had come to her father’s funeral what now seemed so long ago. The bright red hair was a mousy brown, and she had lost a lot of weight. At five-nine she’d appeared almost emaciated and it took Charlotte all her resolve not to become hysterical. It was only after she revealed the circumstances behind her marriage and subsequent divorce that Charlotte understood what Natasha had gone through.

Sasha pulled her lower lip between her teeth. She wanted to sell not only cupcakes, but also specialty cakes, breads and made-to-order elegant desserts. Wickham Falls wasn’t Nashville, but she didn’t plan to offer the small-town residents creations of a lesser quality than those in the Music City. The doorbell chimed and within minutes there was a steady stream of curious potential customers. She’d sold out of fresh bread before the noon hour.

“May I help you?” Sasha asked an attractive teenage girl with large dark brown eyes and neatly braided hair ending at her shoulders.

“Yes. I’ve come to apply for the part-time counterperson position.”

“Are you still in school?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m finished with my classes at noon, so I’m available from one on.”

Sasha didn’t want to write the girl off before she interviewed her, although she would’ve preferred someone more mature. “What’s your name?”

“Kiera Adams. My dad is Dwight Adams,” she said proudly.

The moment Kiera mentioned her father’s name Sasha realized she was the daughter of the local dentist. “Does your father know you’re applying for the position?” She had asked the question because she did not want to have a problem with parents questioning the number of hours their son or daughter were committed to work.

Kiera shook her head. “Not yet. I figured I’d tell him once you hired me.”

Sasha bit back a smile. The young woman did not lack confidence. “Mama, could you please cover the front while I talk to Miss Adams?”

Charlotte nodded. “Of course.”

Sasha led Kiera to the rear of the shop, where she had set up an area for her office. She glanced over her shoulder. “Please sit down, Kiera. I’ve made up an application and I’ll give you time to fill it out before we talk.”

The help-wanted sign had been in the window for three days, and Kiera was the first person to respond. Sasha frosted several dozen cupcakes while Kiera filled out the application.

“I’m finished with the application, Miss…”

“You may call me Sasha,” she said when Kiera’s words trailed off.

She took the single sheet of paper from the teenager’s outstretched hand. It took less than a minute to review what Kiera had written. Although Sasha hadn’t included a category for age, Kiera indicated she was sixteen and a junior at the local high school. She was available to work every day beginning at one in the afternoon, and all day Saturday. Her prior work experience was as a temporary receptionist the previous summer at her father’s dental practice.

Sasha revealed, if hired, what Kiera would be responsible for. She would need Kiera to work four hours every afternoon from Tuesday through Friday. And if needed, one or two Saturdays each month. “If I hire you, will it interfere with your studies?”

“No, ma’am. Even though I’m enrolled as a junior, I’m taking senior-level classes.” She flashed a demure smile. “I took a lot of AP courses when I went to school in New York.”

It was apparent Dr. Adams’s daughter was very bright, and it was the third time Kiera had referred to her as “ma’am,” which made her feel much older than thirty-two. “You are the first one to apply for the position, and I’m going to keep your application on hand. I plan to wait a few more days, and if no one else applies, then I’ll contact you. Please keep in mind if I do decide to bring you on that initially you’ll start at the minimum wage.”

Kiera stood up. “Does that mean I’ll get the job?”

Sasha felt as if she’d been just put on the spot. “I’m going to be up-front with you, Kiera. You’re still a student and I don’t want you to compromise your grades. And because of this I’d like your permission to talk to your father.”

Kiera tucked several braids behind one ear. “I don’t mind, Miss Sasha.” She paused. “Will you call me if you decide not to hire me?”

“I will send you an email.”

Leaning down, Kiera picked up her backpack. “Thank you.”

Sasha smiled. “You’re very welcome. I still have a few samples on hand I’d like to give you from our grand opening. Are you allergic to chocolate?”

A smile spread across the girl’s face, softening her youthful features. “Thank goodness, no. I love chocolate.”

Sasha scrunched up her nose. “It’s my weakness, too.” She walked over to a refrigerator in the prep kitchen and took out a candy cane–striped box and filled it with chocolate crinkle cookies, brownies, a cup of chocolate mousse topped with whipped cream and grated chocolate, and the last chocolate hazelnut cupcake. “Enjoy. And thank you for coming in.”

Kiera’s smile was dazzling. “Thank you so much, Miss Sasha.”

There was something about Kiera’s youthful enthusiasm Sasha liked.

Dwight Adams’s head popped up when he heard the light tapping on the door to his office. He had a two-hour wait before seeing his next patient. He hadn’t expected to see his daughter until later that night, but her coming to his practice was a welcome surprise. He came around the desk to hug her as she dropped the backpack filled with books on the carpet and set a red-and-white-striped box on a side table.

“What are you doing here?”

Kiera rose on tiptoe to kiss her father’s cheek. “What happened to ‘nice seeing you’?”

“Of course I’m happy to see you. It’s just that I didn’t expect you to come here instead of going home. And, by the way, how did you get here?”

“I asked Grammie to drop me off. She has a luncheon meeting with the Ladies Auxiliary.”

Dwight studied the teenager who was the mirror image of her mother at that age. The exception was her complexion and height, which she had inherited from him. Kiera, at five-six, was four inches taller than her petite five-foot-two mother. The school bus picked up and dropped off Kiera at the house; Dwight’s widowed mother lived in a two-bedroom guesthouse Dwight had built on the property.

Kiera rested her hands on the thighs of her denim-covered jeans. “I applied for a part-time job at the new bakery.”

Dwight went completely still. “You did what?”

“Please don’t lose it, Daddy.”

Extending his legs, he ran a hand over his face. “I’m not losing it, Kiera. I just need to know why you feel the need to get a job when you should be concentrating on your schoolwork. And it can’t be about money, because I give you an allowance.”

Kiera slipped her right hand in her father’s left, threading their fingers together. “I need something to beef up my college applications, either work or community service. A lot of kids at school have already signed up at the church, town hall and other businesses in Wickham Falls. And besides, Miss Sasha said I was the first one to apply, so there is a good chance she might hire me.”

“What about your working here?” Dwight questioned.

The summer before Kiera had worked for him when the permanent receptionist went on vacation. As a divorced father, he shared custody with his ex-wife, Adrienne; for years Kiera lived in New York with her and spent one month every summer with him in The Falls. He had made it a practice to visit his daughter several times a year, and whenever he returned home, he’d experienced a modicum of guilt that he bore some responsibility for ending his marriage when he’d been away in the military, which resulted in his not being there to see his daughter grow up. However, everything had changed this past summer when Kiera announced she did not want to return to New York to live with her mother and stepfather, and preferred spending the last two years of high school living with her father and grandmother in Wickham Falls.

Dwight had a lengthy conversation with his ex-wife and convinced her it was time for him to have his daughter for more than a month or a brief visit on school holidays. She finally agreed, with the provision that Kiera vacationed with her during the month of July. Assuming the role as a full-time father had also impacted his obligation as an army reservist. Serving his country for almost two decades while attaining the rank of major was now relegated to his past.

“That’s nepotism, Daddy. I can’t put down that I worked for Dwight Adams, DDS, and not have someone question our relationship. Miss Sasha said she wanted to talk to you beforehand if she decides to hire me. I guess she doesn’t want my having a job to mess with my grades.”

“Good for her.” Dwight liked the idea that Kiera’s potential employer was concerned about her education.

Although he was five or six years old than Sasha Manning, Dwight hadn’t had much interaction with her when growing up in The Falls. He and two of her older brothers had attended high school at the same time. But he’d heard a lot about Sasha when she became a celebrity chef and then married platinum-selling country singer Grant Richards. He was as surprised as most in town when she returned to The Falls to set up a bakeshop in one of the vacant stores at the far end of Main Street.

Kiera pointed to the box. “She gave me samples of chocolate desserts. I was going to leave it in the break room until I remembered Miss Chambers is on a diet and doesn’t want to eat anything with sugar, so I’m going to take them home for Gram…” Her words trailed off when her cell phone rang. Reaching into her jacket pocket, she stared at the phone. “It’s Miss Sasha. She said she would email me if she wasn’t going to hire me.”

Dwight pointed to Kiera’s death grip on the small instrument. “Are you going to answer your phone?” He noticed her expression of apprehension when she put it to her ear. Her expression changed quickly as she covered her mouth with her free hand. “Yes. My dad is here with me.” Kiera extended the phone to him. “Miss Sasha would like to speak to you.”

He took the phone. “Hello.”

“Dr. Adams, this is Sasha Manning. Your daughter applied for a part-time position at my bakeshop. Although I told her that I’m waiting to interview other folks, I’ve decided to hire her, and I would like to talk to you because I need your reassurance that her hours won’t conflict with her schoolwork.”

Dwight smiled. His priority for his daughter was maintaining her grades so she could gain acceptance into at least one or two of her colleges of choice. It was apparent Sasha was of like mind. They discussed the details of the position. Dwight agreed to let her take the job but warned that if her grades slipped, she’d have to quit.

“I understand that, Dr. Adams. If it’s all right with you, I’d like her to start tomorrow. I’m going to need a copy of her immunizations because she’ll be working in what we call food service, and her Social Security number.”

“I can get those to you later this afternoon after my last patient. What time do you close?”

“I draw the shades once I close at six, but I’ll be here later than that. Does that work for you?”

Dwight nodded although she couldn’t see him. “Yes.” He was scheduled to see his last patient at 5:30. Then he would have to go home and get the documents Sasha needed to place Kiera on her payroll. “I’ll probably see you after you close.”

“I’ll be here.” There came a pause before Sasha’s voice came through the earpiece again. “Thank you, Dr. Adams. I hope you don’t mind my saying, but your daughter is a delight.”

Dwight stared at Kiera staring back at him and winked at her. He had to agree with Sasha. There was never a time when he did not enjoy spending time with his daughter. And now that she was living with him, they had grown even closer. “I know I sound biased, but I have to agree with you. She is pretty special.”

“I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yes,” Dwight confirmed.

“Dr. Adams, can you spare a few minutes of your time when you come because I’d like to talk to you about something other than your daughter’s employment.”

He paused, wondering what it was Sasha wanted to discuss with him. “Yes,” Dwight repeated, now that she had aroused his curiosity. He ended the call and handed the phone back to Kiera. “It looks as if you’re hired.”

Kiera clasped her hands together in a prayerful gesture. “When do I start?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Instead of the bus dropping me off at the house, I’ll get off with some of the other kids on the other side of the tracks.”

Dwight nodded. The railroad tracks ran through the downtown business district. “What about lunch?” He knew Kiera left school early because lunch was her last period of the school day.

“I get out at twelve and by the time the bus drops me off it will be about 12:30. Instead of going home to eat, I’ll ask Grammie to help me make lunch and I’ll eat it here before walking down to the bakery.”

He smiled. “You have it all figured out, don’t you?”

“Daddy, aren’t you the one who told me to have a strategy before I execute a plan?”

Dwight managed to look sheepish. “Yes, I did.” He’d lost track of the number of forewarnings he’d given his daughter over the years, and it was apparent she remembered most of them because she could repeat them verbatim.

Dwight found a parking spot behind the bakery and walked around to the front. He’d dropped Kiera at home and told his mother not to plan for him to eat dinner with her and his daughter. He had no way of knowing how long his meeting with Sasha would take.

The woven shade on Sasha’s storefront had been pulled down, as had the one covering the front door.

Dwight tapped lightly on a square of the door’s beveled glass insert, and seconds later he saw Sasha as she pushed aside the shade and then opened the door. He was just as shocked as many in the town at the word that Sasha Manning was back in town, and without her superstar country-artist husband. She’d kept a low profile until the town council approved her opening a bakeshop in the downtown business district. Questions about her marriage were finally answered when a photographer captured photos of Grant Richards with a woman who was purported to be his new girlfriend. And when reporters asked Grant about his relationship with Sasha, he’d admitted it was over.

Smiling, Sasha opened the door wider. “Please come in.”

Chapter Two

Sasha successfully smothered a gasp when she greeted Dwight Adams. He was more than gorgeous. He was beautiful. His balanced features in a lean sable-brown sculpted face, large dark penetrating eyes and dimpled smile were mesmerizing. His buzz-cut salt-and-pepper hair was a shocking contrast to his unlined face. Dressed entirely in black—sheep-lined leather bomber jacket, pullover sweater, jeans and Doc Martens—he was unequivocally the epitome of tall, dark and handsome.

Six years his junior, she’d had little or no interaction with him when growing up. By the time she entered the first grade Dwight was already in middle school. Even if they had been the same age, they might not have traveled in the same circles. Wickham Falls, like so many small towns, was defined by social and economic division. His family lived in an enclave of The Falls populated by those who were middle-and upper-middle-class professionals and business owners, while she had always thought of her family as the working poor, because her father always said he was one paycheck away from the poorhouse. Despite Harold’s claim they were poor, Sasha never felt as if they were. Her parents owned their house, there was always food on the table and, as the only girl, she hadn’t had to wear hand-me-downs.

She’d overheard some of the girls that were in her brothers’ classes whisper about how gorgeous Dwight was, but talking about cute boys or fantasizing about teen idols with her girlfriends had not been reality for Sasha. She’d never wanted to host a sleepover, because what happened in the Manning house stayed within the Manning household. Neither she nor her brothers ever publicly spoke about their parents’ toxic union.

What she had never been able to understand was why her parents had married in the first place because they could not agree on anything; and yet they’d celebrated their thirtieth wedding anniversary. Two days later her father passed away from a massive coronary. He was only forty-nine. That was seven years ago, and the first time Sasha had returned to The Falls since leaving at eighteen.

“Congratulations, Sasha. You managed to add some class to The Falls,” Dwight said as he glanced around the bakeshop.

She forced a smile she did not quite feel. She had spent more than a year planning to open a bakeshop, several months awaiting the town council’s approval, and then even more time until the contractor finished renovating the space to make it functional for her to furnish it with prep tables, sinks, industrial ovens, mixers, blenders, deep fryers, food processors, bakeware and utensils.

“You don’t think it’s too fancy?”

Dwight turned and met her eyes. “Of course not. It’s charming and very inviting.” He smiled. “And I like the alliteration of Sasha’s Sweet Shoppe.”

She nodded. “It took me a while to come up with a catchy name. My first choice was Sasha’s Patisserie, but changed my mind because I didn’t want to have to explain to folks what a patisserie is.”

Dwight walked over to the showcase and peered at the colorfully decorated and labeled pastries. “All they have to say is ‘I want one of these and two of those.’ By the way, how was your grand opening?”

Sasha moved over to stand next to him. “It went well enough. I gave out a lot of samples, and hopefully it will be enough to induce folks to come back again.”

Dwight gave Sasha a sidelong glance. He had been more familiar with her brothers than their little sister. It wasn’t until she had become a contestant in a televised baking competition that he, like most living in The Falls, tuned in to watch and remotely cheer her on. The camera appeared to make love to the tall, slender pastry chef with a wealth of red-gold curls, sparkling green eyes and an infectious laugh. Although she did not win the competition, her appearance was enough to make her a viewer favorite. Her star continued to rise when she became the personal baker to several celebrities and married a popular country singer, and then without warning walked away from the bright lights to come back to her place of birth.

It only took a quick glance for Dwight to notice lines of tension around Sasha’s mouth. As someone responsible for managing his own practice, he suspected she was apprehensive about making her new business a success.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I ate a piece of your chocolate-and-pecan cheesecake and wanted more.”

Sasha flashed a relaxed smile for the first time. The gesture softened her mouth as her eyes sparkled like polished emeralds. “I’ll definitely put that on my cheesecake list.”

Dwight reached into the pocket of his jacket and took out an envelope. “I brought you a copy of Kiera’s immunizations and her Social Security number.”

Sasha took the envelope. “Come with me. I’m going to scan both and then give them back to you. The less paper I have to file, the better.”

He followed her to the rear of the shop, where a spacious immaculate commercial kitchen was outfitted with industrial appliances. His gaze was drawn to a built-in refrigerator/freezer, and then to dozens of cans and labeled jars of spices stacked on metal shelves that spanned an entire wall. Sasha had set up a desk with a computer, printer and file cabinet next to the exit door leading out to the rear parking lot. Bills and invoices were tacked to the corkboard with colorful pushpins affixed to the wall above the desk.

“So, this is where the magic happens.”

Sasha nodded, smiling. “Disney may take offense, but this is my magic kingdom.” She sat on the office chair in front of the computer and patted the straight-back chair next to the workstation. “Please sit down.”

“When did you know you wanted to be a baker?” Dwight asked, as he sat where Sasha had indicated.

She swiveled on her chair to face him. “I never wanted to be a baker.”

His eyebrows rose slightly. “But don’t you bake?”

“Bakers make pies, while pastry chefs make desserts.”

Dwight inclined his head. “I apologize and stand corrected.” Sasha’s low, sensual laugh caressed his ear.

“There’s no need to apologize, Dr. Adams.”

He gave her a pointed look. “It’s Dwight. I’m only Dr. Adams at my office.”

Sasha paused and then nodded. A beat passed. “Okay, Dwight. I suppose you’re wondering what else I wanted to talk to you about?”

Dwight, sitting with his hands sandwiched between his knees, watched as Sasha inserted a thumb drive into a port. “I must admit I am curious.” The seconds ticked as she saved what she’d scanned and handed the papers back to him.

“How difficult was it for you to set up your practice here in The Falls? And how long did it take before you knew it would be viable?”

Her query caught Dwight slightly unawares. He thought Sasha would’ve established a detailed business plan before deciding to open the shop. After all, she was selling goods that relied on supply and demand, while he offered a specific service.

“Well, it was somehow different for me because there was no dental office in The Falls. I remember my mother complaining about having to drive to Mineral Springs and sit for hours to be seen because the office was always overcrowded and overbooked. And once they added an orthodontist it became bedlam in the waiting room with kids falling over one another. Once I decided I wanted to be a dentist I knew beforehand that I would set up a practice here.”

“How long have you had your practice?” Sasha asked.

“This coming October will be eight years.”

“Did you know the first year that you would have enough patients to sustain your practice?”

“I knew that only when my patients returned for their sixth-month checkup. My mother was semiretired, so she filled in as my receptionist until I was able to find a permanent one, and after I hired a hygienist, I didn’t have to micromanage, and everything fell into place. A couple of months ago I added a dental assistant to our staff who performs some of the duties the hygienist had assumed. Initially, most of my patients were kids who needed to have their teeth checked for school, a few for sleepaway camp, and then after a while I was able to sign up their parents.”

“What about your hours?”

“At one time they varied because I was in the reserves and had to serve one weekend a month and two weeks during the summer. I resigned my commission last summer once Kiera came to live with me. Currently, I’m open Mondays and Fridays nine to six, and Tuesdays and Thursdays from one to seven. Even though I no longer go on maneuvers for the two weeks, I still close the office.”

“What happened to Wednesdays and Saturdays?”

“Wednesday is designated golf day for doctors even though I don’t golf,” he admitted, smiling, “and because I have two late nights, I can spend Saturdays and Sundays with my daughter.”

Sasha inhaled a deep breath, held it before slowly exhaling. “I debated whether to close for one day, and then decided on two because I don’t have an assistant. Mama had a mild heart attack last year and her cardiologist has cautioned her about overtiring herself. She’s been working nonstop helping me to get this place ready, but by afternoons she’s so tired that she must get off her feet. Most nights she’s in bed by the time I get home. I wanted to wait to see how many more would apply for the part-time afternoon position before I made a decision, but because Kiera was the first to come in, I decided not to prolong the process.”

“What time do you come in?” Dwight questioned.

“I get in around six and I’m usually here a couple of hours after closing.”

He whistled softly. “That’s a long day.” Sasha nodded. “I really understand your apprehension, but this isn’t the first time you’ve gone into business for yourself.” He wanted to remind her that she had earned the reputation as a celebrity chef.

“That’s true, but the difference is I’d worked out of my home and only when I was commissioned to design cakes for special occasions. I’m not questioning my ability as a pastry chef, but whether folks in town are willing to spend money on freshly made baked goods.”

Dwight curbed the urge to reach out and take Sasha’s hand when he noticed its trembling. “You’re experiencing what every other start-up business faces. We don’t know how it’s going to turn out except that we must take the risk and hope we’ll be successful. I had to withdraw money from an annuity to buy machines and equipment to set up the office, and it took me three years before I was able to put it back.”

Sasha suddenly felt as if she was being a Negative Nelly. Unlike Dwight, she didn’t have to borrow money to set up the bakeshop. She’d earned enough money from designing cakes for A-list celebrities to become financially comfortable, and she’d also inherited a small fortune from her former employer. Luckily, she’d signed a prenup before marrying Grant with the stipulation he wasn’t entitled to her earnings, just as she wasn’t entitled to what he’d received from his recording contracts. She’d had Adele Harvey to thank for the advice as to how she should protect her money.

“I’m sorry to bend your ear about…”

“Stop it, Sasha,” Dwight said softly, cutting her off. “There’s no need to apologize. You’re not the first and won’t be the last person to experience preopening jitters. I’m willing to bet you’ll have a line out the door like the ones in Brooklyn when folks order cakes from Junior’s for Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

Her expression brightened noticeably. “You know about Junior’s?”

Grinning from ear to ear, Dwight chuckled softly. “One of my army buddies was a native New Yorker and he knew every popular eating spot on Long Island and the five boroughs. The first time he took me to Junior’s for dinner and suggested I try the cheesecake, I was hooked. I try to visit Junior’s at least once every time I go to New York.”

“Do you go often?”

“I used to go back three or four times a year when Kiera lived with my ex-wife.”

The mention of an ex-wife had Sasha wondering if Dwight had remarried, despite his not wearing a wedding band. However, his marital status was of no import to her at the moment. Her sole focus was making a go of her patisserie.

“After I graduated from culinary school, I took a two-month break and treated myself to trips to DC, New York and Boston to visit a number of restaurants who’d earned a reputation for their signature desserts. Junior’s was on my list for cheesecakes once I got to New York City. Everything I’d heard or read about their cheesecakes could not accurately describe what I’d eaten. I’d become so obsessed in attempting to duplicate their recipe that I gave up and now use a basic recipe and slightly tweak it to make it my own.”

“Your cheesecake is spectacular.”

A rush of heat suffused her face. “Thank you.”

Dwight stretched out long legs and crossed his arms over his chest. “You can count me as a regular customer if you send me an email whenever you bake bagels, ciabatta, focaccia, cinnamon raisin or Irish soda bread.”

Sasha felt a rush of excitement for the first time since sitting down with Dwight. She was looking forward to foot traffic for special-order items. “I’ll definitely add your name to my mailing list. I plan to alert everyone on the list of the day’s special.” She pushed to her feet, Dwight rising with her, and extended her hand. “Thank you for the pep talk. I left a pad at the front of the shop for you to put down your contact information.”

Dwight took her hand, his larger one closing over her fingers. He went completely still. “Why is your hand so cold?”

“I’ve always had cold hands.”

“Cold hands, warm heart?” he teased.

“You’ve got it,” Sasha countered.

Once her marriage soured and she felt comfortable enough to disclose the details to her mother, Charlotte had accused her of loving with her heart rather than her head. She didn’t want to tell the older woman that she did not want a repeat of her marriage, where every day was filled with hostility, so she’d bitten her tongue in order to keep the peace. However, in the end she knew she could not continue to put up with a man who was continually threatened that her popularity was surpassing his, as he constantly reminded her. It had taken more than six months for her to finally tell Grant it was over and that she wanted out. Much to her surprise, he agreed, and less than a year later they went their separate ways.

Dwight increased his hold on her hand, his thumb caressing the back and adding warmth not only to her fingers but adding a rush of warmth through her whole body. Though undeniably innocent, the motion elicited shivers of sensual awareness coursing through her. Sasha could not believe she was reveling in the feel of a man holding her hand.

“May I please have my hand back?” A teasing smile tilted the corners of her mouth.

Dwight dropped it as if it was a venomous snake. “Sorry about that.”

I’m not, Sasha thought. She wasn’t sorry because it had been much too long since she’d found herself affected by a man’s touch. Now that she looked back on her relationship with her ex-husband, Sasha knew she had been in denial when she refused to see what had been so apparent from her first date with Grant. He was a narcissist. It had to be all about him.

Despite what she’d felt when Dwight held her hand, Sasha knew there was no way she could allow herself to be swayed by romantic fantasies. Her sole focus was making certain she remained in business. She had invested too much time and money in the bakeshop to have it fail. Dwight stared at her, and suddenly she felt like a specimen on a slide under a microscope.

Without warning, a wave of exhaustion washed over her as she tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. “It has been a long day, and as soon as I let you out, I’m going to head home. I’d planned to put up a batch of dough for bread, but that’s something I’ll do when I come in early tomorrow.”

“I’ll wait and walk you out.”

Sasha shook her head. “Thank you for offering, but I believe I can find my way to the parking lot rather easily.”

“I’ll still wait and walk you to your car.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

There was something in Dwight’s voice that indicated no matter what she said she wouldn’t be able to dissuade him. She showed him where he could put down his contact information before returning to the kitchen to turn off lights and retrieve her tote from the lower drawer in the file cabinet. Dwight met her as she armed the security system, opened and locked the rear door behind them.

Sasha pointed to the van parked several spaces down from the bakeshop. The parking lot was brightly lit with newly installed high-intensity streetlamps. A rash of burglaries and break-ins had prompted shopkeepers to get the town council to approve improved lighting to protect their businesses.

“The white van is mine.”

Dwight walked her to her vehicle and waited for her to unlock the doors. “Do you want to give me a hint about tomorrow’s special?”

“Red velvet cheesecake brownies. I’ll put aside a few and give them to Kiera when she comes in. One of the perks will be she will get samples of the day’s special.” Dwight’s dimples reminded Sasha of the indentations in thumbprint cookies when he smiled.

“That sounds like a plan.”

Sasha got in behind the wheel and started up the van. “Get home safe,” she said before closing the door. Dwight hadn’t moved as she put the vehicle in Reverse and drove out of the lot. Talking to him had offered Sasha a modicum of confidence that she could have a successful business offering the residents of Wickham Falls fresh baked goods.

Ten minutes later, she maneuvered into the driveway of the three-bedroom house where she’d grown up, and where her mother still lived. It wasn’t until she’d returned to The Falls and moved back in the house that she’d realized how small it was. Eleven hundred square feet was a far cry from the six-thousand-square-foot home she’d shared with her husband in Nashville’s tony West End neighborhood. Sitting on three acres of prime real estate, the house was so large the builder had installed intercoms for her to communicate with Grant whenever they were in opposite wings of the mansion.

Sasha had given all of it up—the guitar-shaped in-ground pool, the horses she’d loved to ride, and rubbing shoulders with Nashville’s country royalty—in order to control her destiny. The first night she crawled into the bed in her childhood bedroom, she slept for twelve uninterrupted hours and woke feeling as if she had been reborn. It took two months for her to put together a business plan to start over in a town she’d fled fourteen years before. Not only had she changed; the family dynamics had also changed. Her father was gone, and her brothers were lifers in the military, which left just her and her mother.

She parked the van beside Charlotte’s brand-new Corolla. Sasha had purchased the vehicle as a birthday gift a week after returning to The Falls, because her mother’s car had spent more time in the garage than it had on the road. She ignored Charlotte’s complaint that she didn’t need a new car, now that she was retired, and that a used one would suffice. Sasha had had to remind the older woman that she was entitled to own a vehicle that hadn’t belonged to someone else first.

She got out, unlocked the front door, walked into the house and was met with mouthwatering aromas wafting to her nose. “Mama, I’m home,” Sasha called out as she dropped her tote on a bench seat and left her shoes on the mat inside the door.

Charlotte came out of the kitchen wearing her ubiquitous bibbed apron. Sasha could not remember a time when her mother did not wear an apron when cooking. “I thought you were coming home much later.”

Sasha ran her hand through the curls falling over her forehead. “I changed my mind.”

“Are you feeling all right?”

She registered the concern in Charlotte’s voice. “I’m just a little tired.” The apprehension coupled with euphoria she’d felt earlier that morning had dissipated like air leaking out of a balloon. “I’m going to eat with you, then take a long soak in the tub before going to bed.”

“Did you talk to Dr. Adams?” Charlotte asked.

Sasha smiled. “Yes. He gave me the papers I need to put Kiera on the payroll. I asked him about him setting up his dental practice, and he gave me some good advice. He also promised to become a steady customer if I bake some of his favorite breads.”

Charlotte wrapped an arm around Sasha’s waist. “Come. We’ll talk in the kitchen. I still have to whip up the mashed potatoes.”

Sasha sniffed the air. “You made meat loaf.” Her mother nodded. Charlotte knew meat loaf with mashed potatoes was her favorite comfort food. There had been a time when as a wife and mother Charlotte made it a practice to make her husband and children’s favorite dishes once a week. For Sasha it was meat loaf. Fried chicken for her brother Philip, grilled pork chops for Stephen and beef stew for her father.

“Yes. And it’s time I take it out of the oven.” Reaching for an oven mitt, Charlotte opened the eye-level oven and set the hot pan on a trivet.

“I’m going to wash my hands, and then I’ll finish the potatoes,” Sasha volunteered.

“Are you sure?” Charlotte asked.

“Yes. Sit down and put your feet up.”

She did not want to remind her mother that she had been up before dawn and needed at least eight to ten hours of sleep to keep up her stamina. But Sasha hoped things would change with her new hire. Now Charlotte would be able to leave the shop midday and return home to rest before starting dinner.

“I’m not an invalid,” Charlotte argued softly, as she opened the refrigerator and took out a bowl of Greek salad and a cruet with dressing.

“I know that, Mama. But remember what the doctor said about overtiring yourself. You have a follow-up medical checkup next month and I know you’re looking forward to good news.”

“I am. But I feel more like a toddler than a grandmother having to take naps in the afternoon.”

Married at eighteen, Charlotte had delivered Philip at nineteen, and he, following in his mother’s footsteps, married within days of graduating high school. He made Charlotte a grandmother before her fortieth birthday.

“You’ll be back to your former self when you least expect it.”

After laying out another place setting, Charlotte sat down. She smiled. “That’s what I’m hoping. And what about you, Natasha?”

Sasha halted washing her hands in one of the twin sinks. “What about me, Mama?”

“Do you resent having to come back to The Falls after living the high life in Nashville?”

Sasha went completely still before reaching for a paper towel to dry her hands. “Why would you ask me that?”

Charlotte shrugged under a flower-sprigged blouse. The tiny blue flowers were an exact match for her eyes. “There are times when I see so much sadness in your eyes that I believe you’d rather be somewhere else.”

Pushing her hands into a pair of oven mitts, Sasha picked up the pot of boiled potatoes and emptied it into a large colander, steam temporarily clouding her vision. “If I’d wanted to be somewhere else, I never would’ve come home.”

“I hope you didn’t come back for me.”

Sasha closed her eyes for several seconds as she carefully chose her words. She didn’t know what had triggered her mother to question her motive for returning to her hometown. “I came back for me and you, Mama. I was so sick of the so-called high life that there were days when I didn’t want to get out of bed. There was a time when I couldn’t wait to leave The Falls, and then fast-forward fourteen years and I couldn’t wait to come back. My only concerns are you getting well and making certain the bakeshop will be successful. When I mentioned my apprehension to Dwight, he reassured me what I’m feeling is normal for anyone opening a new business.”

“I’m surprised he’s going to allow his daughter to work for you.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Everyone knows he’s very protective of that girl. That’s probably the reason why he hasn’t remarried.”

“How long has he been divorced?”

“Kiera may have been in the second grade when his wife left him.”

Charlotte mentioning Dwight’s marital status stirred Sasha’s curiosity about the attractive dentist. “Why did they break up?” She riced the potatoes, added milk, unsalted melted butter, garlic powder, fresh chives, and then whisked the mixture until it was smooth and fluffy.

“I don’t know if there’s any truth to it, but folks were saying Adrienne didn’t want him to set up a practice in Wickham Falls and she gave him an ultimatum. In the end, she left, and he stayed.”

“But didn’t she know when she married him that he didn’t want to leave The Falls?” Sasha asked. There were very few people in town Charlotte wasn’t familiar with. After thirty years as a cafeteria worker for Johnson County Public Schools, she had come to know every student from kindergarten through twelfth grade during her tenure.

“I don’t know. The only thing I can say is the Wheelers spoiled Adrienne because she was the only girl in a family with four boys, and with her looks she knew she could have any boy she wanted. And once she set her sights on Dwight it was all she wrote. Would you mind if I open a bottle of that fancy wine you sent me?” Charlotte asked, changing the topic of conversation. “After all, we are celebrating your grand opening, and there are a few bottles chilling in the fridge.”

“You’re right about that, Mama.” Once Grant went on an extended ten-city tour, Sasha had shipped her clothes, wine collection and personal possessions to Wickham Falls. She had become quite the wine connoisseur once she learned to pair those which complemented fish, red meat and poultry. “Red or champagne?”

“Champagne.”

Before moving to Tennessee, Sasha rarely had mother-daughter dates, but since returning, she had come to see another side of Charlotte’s personality. As a young wife and mother, Charlotte had sought to shield her children from her husband’s temper tantrums, while taking the brunt of his constant bitching and moaning about how much he hated his job as an orderly at the county hospital. Sasha expertly removed the cork from the bottle and filled two flutes with the pale bubbly wine. She touched her glass to Charlotte’s. “A toast to Sasha’s Sweet Shoppe.”

Charlotte smiled. “Hear, hear!”

Between sips of champagne, bites of succulent meat loaf and garlic-infused mashed potatoes, she felt completely relaxed for the first time since getting out of bed earlier that morning. And once she recalled the events of the day, Sasha knew her grand opening had been a rousing success.

She peered over the flute at the updated kitchen. When she’d returned to Wickham Falls for her father’s funeral, it was as if she saw the kitchen and bathrooms in the house where she’d grown up for the first time. Had they always been that outdated, or was she comparing them to the ones in the ultramodern mansion she’d shared with her then-husband?

Charlotte refused to accept money for the renovations, so Sasha contacted a local contractor and had him send her plans to redo the kitchen, full bath and the half bath off the mudroom. When the contracting crew showed up to begin work, her mother called and read her the riot act. Sasha hung up, waited a week and then called Charlotte back. She could not stop talking about how much she loved her new kitchen.

The money for the renovations hadn’t come from what she’d earned as a pastry chef, but from an account Adele Harvey’s financial manager had established for her following the older woman’s death. No one was more shocked than Sasha when she had been summoned to the reading of Adele’s will and informed she’d been left enough money to take her into old age, if she didn’t squander it.

After her second glass of champagne, Sasha was unable to smother a yawn. “As soon as I help you clean up the kitchen, I’m going upstairs to take a bath and then turn in for the night.”

Charlotte touched the napkin to the corners of her mouth. “You don’t have to help me. I took a nap this afternoon, so I’m good.”

Sasha stared across the table at her mother. She’d styled her hair in a becoming bob that showed her delicate features to their best advantage. Although she’d been widowed for seven years, Charlotte had never spoken about dating or the possibility of marrying again. However, it was different with Sasha. At thirty-two, she hoped she would find someone with whom she could fall in love, marry and have one or two children. Thankfully being married to Grant had not turned her off of marriage as a whole. If or when she did decide to date again, she was certain to be cognizant of the signs she’d chosen to ignore with Grant. She had been so blinded by love that she’d surrendered her will and had permitted her husband to control her very existence.

He had insisted she travel with him whenever he was on tour, attend his recording sessions and of course all the televised award shows. She had smiled pretty for the camera even if they’d had an argument earlier that night. After a while Sasha had had enough and decided she wanted out.

Here in The Falls, she did not have to concern herself about being dressed just so or going out without makeup to conceal her freckles. It had taken her living in a plastic world where she always had to be perfect for the camera for her to appreciate the laid-back comfortability of a small town in the heart of West Virginia’s coal country.

“Are you sure you’re up to it, Mama?”

Charlotte smiled. “Of course I’m sure. I don’t need you working yourself down to the bone where you won’t have enough strength to bake or even run a business. You’ve just begun putting on weight and I don’t want folks saying that my baby girl looks like a scarecrow.”

Sasha rolled her eyes upward. “Thanks, Mama.” Pushing back her chair, she stood up. “I think I’m going to take a shower, because once I get into the tub, I won’t be able to get out.”

“Do you want me to come up and check on you?”

“Nah. I’m good.” Rounding the table, she leaned down and kissed Charlotte’s cheek. “Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.”

“I’m going to put some away for tomorrow’s lunch.”

Turning on her heel, Sasha walked out of the kitchen, through the dining room and up the staircase to the second story. Charlotte had become a lifesaver and her lifeline. She had become her unofficial sous chef; she brought her lunch so she wouldn’t have to leave the shop for a meal; and she’d been there for her to greet town officials and the walk-ins.

Sasha didn’t know what she would’ve done if she hadn’t had her mother. She entered her bedroom, stripped off her clothes and walked naked into the bathroom across the hall. She managed to brush her teeth and shower in under fifteen minutes. Within seconds of her head touching the pillow, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

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