Sweet Somethings Read online

  "Good question," Roman muttered.

  She ignored him and focused on Cameron. "The cookies are made with a special kind of sugar that comes from the sap of a coconut tree. I can only get it at this time of year, and because it's so special, it gives the person eating the cookie a little bit of magic."

  Cameron's eyes widened. "So whatever I wish for will come true?"

  "Not all wishes come true, but some do."

  "I want mine to come true." There was suddenly a serious and purposeful look in his eyes, and Juliette wondered what he was wishing so hard for.

  She looked at Donna. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but I was wondering where Cameron's parents are. Do they live here, too?"

  "My son, Travis, brought Cameron to live here two months ago, but he had to tie up some loose ends in New Orleans before he could make the move himself. He's actually coming home today; he should be here soon. Cameron's mother isn't around," she added, a tart note in her voice.

  So Cameron's dad was coming back to help his mom take care of Cameron. That sounded good. She felt immensely relieved, because she didn't think Donna was capable of being the sole caregiver. "I'm glad you'll have help with Cameron."

  "Oh, he's such a sweet boy; he doesn't need much," Donna said. "Thank you again for the cookies; it was very thoughtful. I'll have to stop in at your bakery sometime."

  "I hope you will."

  A door slammed somewhere in the back of the house, followed by heavy footsteps. A man came down the hall a moment later. He was short and stocky, with a muscular build. His clothes looked worn and like they hadn't seen a washer in a while. His face was covered with a scruffy beard. His eyes were weary and red, and a new uneasiness ran down her spine.

  "Daddy," Cameron squealed. He got up and ran to his dad, throwing his arms around his father's waist. "I didn't think you were ever coming back."

  "I told you I was," the man murmured.

  "Travis, I was just talking about you," Donna said. "This is Juliette and Roman."

  Travis's gaze swung first to her, then to Roman. His face paled. "You?" he asked, giving Roman a hard stare. "What the hell are you doing here? I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

  "Likewise," Roman said, a clipped tone in his voice.

  "What's going on?" Donna asked in confusion and concern. "You two know each other?"

  "Of course we know each other," Travis said to his mother. "This is Roman. The kid from the park, the one who started the fire… Don't you remember?"

  "Oh." Donna looked taken aback. "I—I didn't realize. I didn't recall the name. I should have. I didn't."

  "Get the hell out of my house," Travis said.

  "No problem. Time to go," Roman told her, as he moved toward the front door.

  "Uh, all right," she said. "Enjoy the cookies."

  She followed Roman outside and they didn't speak until they got into the truck.

  "So what was that about?"

  He put his key into the ignition and started the engine. "The past."

  She frowned. "Martha told me that you were accused of setting fire to someone's house or something along those lines. Is that what Travis was referring to?"

  "Yes. Travis, Doug and I were in a park one night after high school graduation. A house next to that park caught fire sometime after midnight. We were the prime suspects. I didn't start the fire. I had left the park before them. But they both pointed their fingers at me. They lied to protect themselves." He paused, shaking his head. "I knew I recognized Donna and that house; I just didn't put it together. Travis's last name is Hastings. I guess Donna used her maiden name because she was an actress."

  Finally, he was being forthcoming. She had a lot of questions about the fire; she just didn't know where to start. "Putting your past with Travis aside for the moment, didn't you think he looked…beat-up, exhausted?"

  "He didn't look good," Roman said tersely, as he pulled away from the front of the house and drove down the street.

  "Cameron obviously loves him, but I still wonder what's going on with that family. When I was looking around the house, I saw stacks of unpaid bills with final notice on them. Maybe the pretty house is just an illusion for what's really going on."

  "Donna told us that Travis's wife isn't around, so something happened there. But beyond that, who knows?"

  She shifted in her seat. "When she first said her son was coming back, I was relieved. I thought now Donna has the help she needs, because she clearly isn't up to taking care of Cameron on her own. But Travis didn't look like he had a handle on things, either."

  "You need to let this go, Juliette. Cameron has a father and a grandmother and probably other family or friends in this town for support. You need to stop trying to fix his life."

  "I'm just trying to help."

  "I'm getting the feeling your desire to fix Cameron's life is more about the fact that you couldn't fix your own problems when you were a kid."

  "That's not true."

  He shrugged. "I think it could be."

  She thought about it for a moment and decided he was wrong. "I feel for Cameron because he reminds me of when I was a sad, scared kid, and I think he reminds you of your past, too. That’s why you came with me."

  "Yes, but I can accept when it's time to let go and move on."

  "I can accept that, too. I'm not crazy."

  His hard profile eased at her comment and he gave her a small, dry smile as he stopped at a light. "All evidence to the contrary."

  "Okay, getting back to you."

  He groaned. "Let's not."

  "I just want to say one thing."

  "I seriously doubt you'll stop there."

  "Let's find out," she said. "I noticed something interesting about your former friends. When Doug saw you at Donavan's, and when Travis saw you just now, they weren't just wary or angry, they were afraid. Why? Do they think you'll somehow get back at them now for pointing their fingers at you? Do you have something on them? Could you get them into trouble?"

  "Just because you don't take a breath in between questions doesn't make it one long question," he pointed out.

  "And you're stalling."

  "Aren't you going to give me directions to the hamburger place?"

  "Stay on this road for the next two miles and then I'll tell you where to go. In the meantime…"

  "I don't know why they would be scared of me," he said. "I have nothing on them, no proof of anything. They probably just don't want me around. I'm a reminder of that fire and some of the other stuff we did together that wasn't so great."

  "You said the fire started in a park?"

  "In the bushes next to a house. Travis and Doug had been smoking."

  "Not you?"

  "I was drinking beer, but I didn't have a taste for cigarettes." He paused. "The next morning, I was picked up by the police for questioning. I told them the truth, but no one believed me."

  "Were Doug and Travis also picked up by the police?"

  "Doug's father was chief of police. So he never actually went down to the station. Travis was taken down there, but his father was vice president of the bank and personally controlled a lot of loans for a lot of people."

  She didn't like the sound of that. "So you get tagged for the crime because you didn't have a powerful father?"

  "Yes. And because Doug and Travis both swore that I did it. The fact that I'd gotten into some trouble before didn't help my cause."

  "What about your grandfather? What did he do?"

  "He came down to the station and told the chief I was going home unless they were prepared to charge me. It was the only time in my life anyone ever stood up for me."

  "He believed you were innocent."

  "Maybe. He never asked me. He's not much of a talker."

  "The two of you must sit in silence a lot," she said dryly.

  "We can definitely do that."

  "So whatever happened? No one was held responsible for the fire?"

  "Nope. The truth is they didn't have
any evidence about anything, at least as far as I know. A week later, I joined the Marine Corps and left town, swearing I'd never be back." He flung her a look. "Yet here I am—at least for the moment."

  "You can't let them run you off again."

  "They didn't run me off the first time. I'd been planning to join the Marines after graduation. And it was a good decision. Coming back here now—maybe not so good."

  "Why did you come back?"

  "My grandfather said he could use some help, and I'd been kicking around different places for a few months, so I thought I'd give him some time while I waited for everything to heal. I thought the town might have forgotten some of what happened back then, but I was wrong about that."

  "Most people probably have," she said. "And let's not forget all the people who've come to Fairhope in the last thirteen or so years who have never heard of you. You may not be as famous as you think."

  "I think the word is infamous, and you do like to pick the optimistic viewpoint."

  "It's better than going negative." She sat up, realizing the road was splitting ahead. "Take the right turn to Evans Road. We're almost there."

  "Good, because I'm ready for—what did you call it—a fantabulous hamburger?"

  "I hope I didn't oversell."

  He smiled. "I hope you didn't, either. I'm starving."

  * * *

  The name Burger Palace was obviously meant to be ironic, Roman thought, as he parked in the lot in front of the deliberately weathered shack that sat on a bluff overlooking the bay. But when he followed Juliette inside, his stomach rumbled with the delicious aroma of onions, hickory, and barbecue.

  They got into a fairly long line to peruse the menu of burger magnificence. "What's good?" he asked her.

  "Last time I got the Princess Burger," she replied. "But I don't think you want that one. I doubt it's manly enough for you."

  He grinned, reading the colorfully written description of a petite burger topped with lettuce, tomato, and sweet pickles. "Definitely not enough meat."

  "You should go for the Royal Flush burger. Three patties, two layers of cheese, topped off with veggies and secret sauce."

  "And that's a little too much meat. Maybe I'll get the Prince." He stepped up to the counter to order.

  As he finished, Juliette said, "I'm paying, so just move aside. I'll take the Princess Burger," she added. "No sauce, please."

  "Got it. One Prince and one naked Princess," the kid manning the register yelled back to the line of cooks.

  Roman laughed. "Naked princess. Now that I like."

  She smiled back at him. "Don't get any ideas."

  It was a good warning. Unfortunately, it was coming too late. He'd been getting ideas about her since the first moment they'd met—actually before that. His body had been stirring with attraction since he'd spotted her through the bakery windows.

  Pushing that thought away, he decided to grab a table while Juliette paid for their order.

  He found one outside on the deck. It was a sunny, brisk day and he figured they might as well take advantage of the weather with a seat near the railing overlooking the water.

  Juliette joined him a moment later with two glasses of water. "This is nice," she said, settling in the chair across from him. "It's been awhile since I've been out to lunch. What about you?"

  "I eat out a fair amount."

  "That's right. I saw the empty cupboards in the house."

  He sipped his water. "You've been snooping a lot today."

  She made a face at him. "I could try to deny that, but I won't. What kind of stories was Donna telling you while I was looking around?"

  "She told me all about her days as an actress. Apparently, she was breaking a lot of hearts back then. She did mention that her husband died of a heart attack three years ago."

  "I wonder if that's when she stopped paying attention to her bills. In her generation, the woman often left that kind of job to the man. I remember my parents arguing about the bills, but it was reversed. My mother cared about the bills; my dad was all about the baking."

  "What about you? Whose footsteps do you walk in?"

  "Both of them. I love the baking, like my dad. He was my inspiration to become a pastry chef, but I have to care about the business or I don't have enough money to buy ingredients to bake. It's different, because it's just me. I don't have a husband or an investor; I have to make things work."

  "Do you have any family besides your aunt?"

  "Some distant cousins I never see."

  He rested his arms on the table, curious to know more about her. "Did you like New York at all?"

  "Not in the beginning. You thought you didn't fit in when you came here, well, I was definitely a fish out of water in New York. I had a Southern accent. I dressed funny. I was sad, so sad, in the beginning that I couldn't talk to anyone. I couldn't even go into my aunt's kitchen. It felt wrong to bake without my father. So I did pretty much nothing but sleep and watch mindless TV. I don't think I made a friend for at least a year."

  "That's hard to believe. You're such a friendly person."

  "I was lost for a while. I know you can relate. We both had to make big changes in our teen years. Even though the reasons were different, the result was the same."

  "That's true."

  "But New York eventually grew on me. My aunt tried hard to make a home for me. She used to take me bike riding and horseback riding in Central Park so I could see trees and sit on the grass and feel like I wasn't living in a concrete jungle; it helped. Eventually, I made friends and I started to appreciate the museums and the theater and the excitement of the city."

  "But you still wanted to come back here."

  "I always knew I would. When you left, you swore you'd never come back, but when I left, I made the opposite promise—that I would one day return and live in the place that's really home to me." She paused. "My friends thought I was insane to move here, but I just knew I had to do it, especially after I won the baking competition and I had the money. The amount wouldn't have let me do anything in New York City, but here I could pay rent on bakery space and an apartment—my landlord offered me the studio upstairs for practically nothing. And I still have enough money to buy my ingredients and make my desserts."

  "What was the prize again?"

  "$30,000. I never imagined I could actually win, but I went through six regional contests before becoming one of three finalists to bake the perfect seven-layer cake on a television food show. And I won. It was shocking and amazing."

  "It looks like you put the money to good use and your bakery is successful."

  "Customers are coming back, and repeat business is always a good sign. Donavan has been awesome about sending people my way as well, along with selling my baked goods in the coffee shop."

  "Donavan has always been a very caring person."

  "Yes, she is. Did you know she sends money back to the villages in Ethiopia where her coffee is grown?"

  "She mentioned that," he said with a smile. "It actually didn't surprise me."

  "There's a fundraiser next week. I'm going to try to go in between my manic baking sessions to get ready for all my Valentine's Day orders, but I'm not complaining. Busy is good."

  Juliette was one of the few women he'd met who actually didn't complain much, even though she'd certainly had hard and unfair things in her life to deal with.

  She sipped her water, then said, "I know you're going to shut down again when I ask this, but I'm curious…"

  "You're always curious."

  She smiled. "That's true. My mom used to say it was a sign of an intelligent mind."

  "That's a good way to spin it. What are you curious about now?"

  "Your mother."

  He stiffened. "I already told you that sordid story. There's nothing more to say."

  "I'm sure there's a lot more, but I was just wondering—where she is now? Do you see her, talk to her? Has she been in your life at all since you were fifteen?"

  "She
lives in Los Angeles. She got sober about three years ago. She emails me occasionally, but we haven't actually seen each other since I was taken away from her and brought here."

  "Is that her choice or yours?"

  He thought about that. "It's probably mutual."

  "Really?" she asked doubtfully.

  "We're not good for each other. She needs to focus on keeping her sobriety and her mental health, and when she thinks about me, she feels guilty. That's not a productive emotion for her."

  "But it's not just about her. How do you feel?"

  "I don't really want to see her, either. I tried so hard to protect her when I was a kid. But I couldn't. I failed. And I don't want to get back into that impossible place again. I'm glad she's better. I hope it stays that way. I wish her well, but for now that's as far as it goes. Maybe someday that will change, but it's too soon."

  "I understand. I'm happy she got better. I was afraid the story was going to end on a darker note."

  "You don't like darkness, do you?"

  "No, because I've been there, and it's a scary place to live in. So I choose not to."

  As he met her gaze, he realized he'd made a different choice. He'd embraced the darkness so it would feel normal. In the shadows, his life had always looked so much better than it really was. He still had trouble with the light. It revealed too much.

  Thankfully, their far too personal conversation ended as the waiter set down their plates.

  The sight of his thick, juicy burger made his mouth water. "This looks good."

  "Wait until you taste it." She bit into her burger and sighed with delight. "It's better than I remembered."

  He smiled at her enthusiasm. "Happy to hear that," he said, as he took a bite.

  "Well, what do you think?" she asked, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

  "Fantabulous."

  She laughed. "It's the perfect word, isn't it?"

  Everything about the moment was perfect: the scenery, the food, the beautiful woman across from him. There weren't that many times in his life when he wished he could freeze time, but this was one of them.

  They ate in happy silence for the next few minutes.

  When Juliette was done, she let out a sigh of satisfaction and sat back in her chair. "That was amazing. I only wish I had another one."