Déjà Date Read Online Free PDF Page A

me.
    “Mom?”
    She lifted her head slowly. “Hmm?”
    I frowned, wondering if she was more distraught over Bernie’s condition than I’d anticipated. “If you’re worried about Bernie, you don’t need to be. I’m managing his bakery for the next two weeks so he’ll be able to rest.”
    “Well, that’s a relief.” She smoothed out the checkered towel lying across the top of the basket until it was without a wrinkle. “He loves his bakery, though. It will be hard for him to be away. You’ll need to call him every day to assure him everything’s going smoothly. And make sure that nice boy Nate sends a basket of freshly baked bread daily, too. That will cheer Bernie up.”
    I mentally huffed. A “nice” boy would’ve called me after the kiss we’d shared. The thought of asking Nate Carter for anything irritated me. If it would be good for Bernie to have freshly baked bread delivered, then I’d rather take it to him myself.
    “Fine,” I said, annoyed that she’d gotten so bossy all of a sudden. “But there’s something else I need to talk to you about. Bernie has decided to sell the bakery. I know I’ve turned down the inheritance money from Dad repeatedly, but I’ve decided to finally accept the money so I can buy the bakery. I’ll keep it open and thriving. Isn’t that fantastic?”
    “Uh . . .” Instead of excitement or even answering me, her face paled, and she stood abruptly. She went over to the buffet table and poured two cups of coffee, then set them on coasters on the coffee table. “I don’t have that sugar-free syrup you love so much, but would you like cream or sugar?”
    “Black’s fine.” I waved a hand. “But didn’t you hear what I said? I’ve found my calling. Customer service was always just a paycheck for me. Owning Bernie’s Bakery is now my dream. I haven’t found out the exact price yet, but I remember how much the inheritance money was over a decade ago. I’m sure that would be more than enough. Since you’d invested it, it’s probably even gone up since then. Right?”
    “Quite a bit, actually.” She sat back down again, but instead of reaching for her coffee cup she rubbed her palms against her thighs. “Before we talk about the bakery, I have some things to tell you.”
    I didn’t like how her expression had grown distant and how she seemed to look everywhere but at me. “What is it, Mom?”
    She cleared her throat. “First, I’m going to have your father’s ashes scattered over the Sierras from a hot air balloon. I’m trying to find a company that will do it, which is proving more difficult than you could imagine.”
    I choked on my coffee. “You’re spreading Daddy’s ashes?” My gaze automatically flew to the ceramic urn, to make sure it was still there. “Why would you suddenly decide to do that after thirteen years? Don’t I get a say in this?”
    “Your dad left me a letter saying that’s what he wants.” She pressed her lips together, causing the lines on either side of her mouth to deepen. Then she reached into her handbag and pulled out a white envelope, still sealed. “When our lawyer gave me your dad’s will after he passed away, she also handed me an envelope, and told me it was a personal letter from him.”
    A stampede of needles pricked across my chest, and down my arms. “You never told me he wrote you a letter.”
    “That’s because I didn’t have the heart to open it.” She dropped her gaze, staring at the envelope she held in her manicured hands, then she glanced up at me. “It’s been sitting in my nightstand drawer all of these years. Part of me felt like if I read his final letter to me, there really would be no turning back. I’m sure that sounds silly.”
    “It doesn’t.” My throat tightened as I thought back to how my dad had died so unexpectedly. He had left early in the morning for his big hot air balloon adventure, and hadn’t returned. We never got to say good-bye. “But how do you know that he