“Hey,” I say, leaning back and holding her by the shoulders. “Your kid’s belief in the magic of Santaisa big thing. The twins deserve some magic after the last six months. We’ll figure it out.”
The bells jingle, and I let go of Sara as Levi walks through the door.
“Levi!” Sara calls when she sees him. “Come give me a hug.” She darts from behind the counter and steps into his waiting arms, a big smile on both their faces.
“You okay?” Levi asks, and I realize he’s talking to me.
This also makes me realize I’m frowning, because for a split second I’m bugged that his hug with her is the same as his hug with me. Levi has always beenmyfriend, but he’s known Sara his whole life too, so why wouldn’t they hug? I squash my annoyance flatter than a crepe and joke, “Long time, no see.”
“You’re just an excuse to come say hi to that cranberry thing you gave me yesterday.”
A real smile takes over. My nighttime baker handles most of the daily baking now, but I still make one special every day, and right now, the cranberry blondies are killing it with customers, so I’ve made a batch daily since I premiered them last week.
“You’re in luck,” I tell him. “I have three left, and they’re going to disappear soon.”
“Yeah. In my belly.” He pats his flat stomach. “Also, I’m coming here every day to pretend I want to help with Christmas Town as long as you keep serving those blondies. How about I buy one now and bring the other two to game night?”
“Your money is no good here,” I say as Sara plucks one from the display case for him. “You can have the blondies, but I don’t know if I’ll be at game night yet. Too much to do.”
“Whoa,” he says, his eyes widening. “No way. You can’t make me deal with them on my own. What do you need me to help with so you can come tonight?”
“Let’s do a drama check.” I pull out my phone and check the many, many emails I have to tackle. “Sixteen emails.”
“That’s not too bad,” he says.
“In the last half hour,” I clarify.
“Oh.”
I skim them while Sara gets to work moving around the pastries to fill in the front of the case.
“Are they always drama?” he asks.
“Levi. My dude,” Sara says. “Do you even remember living here?”
“Right. Dumb question,” he says.
“There’s always something and it’s never interesting,” I grumble.
“Not to you, but I love it.” Sara gestures around us. “We’re in a café, so spill the tea.”
“Is it your job to make bad dad jokes while Dean is gone?” I ask.
“Hundred percent yes.”
I roll my eyes at Levi. “It looks like I have to call Joyce Hardy. She’s upset because she saw the birdcalls the Rotary Club wants to sell, and she says they’re unacceptably suggestive.”
Levi’s brow furrows. “Birdcalls?”
I hand over my phone with Joyce’s “evidence” on the screen.
Sara peers at it over his shoulder and bursts out laughing. “So what you’re saying is that Joyce Hardy outed herself in an email for having a dirty mind?”
“Exactly.” I grin at Sara, happy she’s laughing. “You’d have towantto see something naughty when those poor men only want to call birds. My guess is she’s afraid it’ll set her britches dancing when someone uses them.”
Levi loses it, and then we’re all laughing at the idea of Joyce Hardy, the prim children’s Sunday School director, overcome by the sound of birdcalls.
“What are you going to tell her?” Levi asks when we settle down.
