Page 2 of Midnight Lessons
“Willow!” Linda, Billy’s mom and the local florist, cuts through our planning session. She waltzes in, her scarf a swirl of autumn leaves against her coat. “These cookies are a work of art.”
“Hey, Linda.” I grin at the compliment. “Glad you like them. Got a favorite yet?”
“Honey, choosing is impossible. They’re all my favorites,” Linda declares, her laughter mingling with the hum of the display case.
“Wait until you see what we’ve got planned for the Halloween festival,” I tease, knowing full well that Linda, the town’s biggest holiday enthusiast next to me, will eat it up. “I might give you a hint if you promise to bring me two of those flower arrangements you’ve made with the orange and yellow chrysanthemums.
“Deal. This town’s Halloween spirit is the best part of living here,” she gushes, clapping her hands.
“Couldn’t agree more,” I reply, the familiar surge of hometown pride warming my chest.
“Have you been spoiling my son again?” she asks, spotting Billy with a mouthful of cookie.
“Guilty,” I say unapologetically. “He deserves it. It’s been a tough few months for you both.”
Linda sighs. “You got that right. Never thought I’d be a single parent.”
Linda’s husband left her for a younger woman three months ago and she’s been juggling her florist shop and parenting since.
“You’re doing a great job,” I say, giving her a hug.
Linda dabs at her eyes with her scarf. “Thanks, Willow. I always feel better when I see you.”
I can kind of relate to Linda’s pain because the only man I’ve ever loved took my heart with him when he left Midnight Falls.
My heart twinges as I think of Owen. Despite how things ended between us six years ago, he’s never far from my thoughts. He was my first love.
Was?He still is.
Dating Matthew proved that “out of sight, out of mind” doesn’t work when it comes to matters ofthe heart. Not that Matthew and I were ever a real couple, not in the true sense of the word. Matthew asked me out several times during high school, but I always turned him down—after all, my heart belonged to Owen even then. On paper, I had more in common with Matthew than Owen—we were both nerdy kids who blended into the background. Kind of invisible. I’ve often wondered if Owen would’ve noticed me at all had we not been neighbors.
No, Matthew and I were never romantic; he was a friend, a companion for social events, someone who helped keep the loneliness away. I was upfront with him from the beginning, letting him know that my heart wasn't available—it would always belong to the man who left me for a life in the city.
I thought Matthew was as happy as I was with our “platonic arrangement” until he confessed he was falling for me and wanted a real relationship. That’s when I realized I had to end things. It wasn’t fair to continue as we were when I couldn't give him what he wanted. He wasn’t happy when I told him, but he accepted my decision. Soon after,he left for a high-paying job in another town, and last I heard, he was doing well for himself.
“Oh, look at these!” Linda’s exclamation pulls me from my thoughts.
I grin, sliding the tray of cookies closer to her eager eyes. “I’ve been experimenting with new designs.”
Each cookie is meticulously iced. A witch’s hat glistens with a shimmering purple band, a ghost floats with an almost translucent glaze, and a jack-o’-lantern smirks with an orange so vibrant it could light up the night.
“Is that a hint of nutmeg I smell on the ghosts?” Linda asks, her nose twitching like she’s caught the scent of a secret.
“Caught me,” I admit with a laugh. “I thought I’d give them a little spicy kick. And for the pumpkins, it’s all about classic cinnamon.”
Linda reaches out as if to pluck one off the tray but stops. “How do you make them so perfect? They’re almost too good to eat.”
“Speaking of perfection, you should see what I’vegot planned for the festival’s dessert table. It’ll be a Halloween hit.”
“Can’t wait,” she says, the sparkle in her eyes telling me she means it. “Your treats are the highlight every year.”
“Thanks, Linda. That means a lot.” And it does. This bakery, these cookies, they’re not just sugar and spice. They’re pieces of me, mixed and baked into something sweet.
“Willow, we’re going to head out,” Mom calls from the door, her voice pulling me back to the moment.
“Give me two seconds,” I call back, giving Linda a quick “hold that thought” gesture.
I rush over, slipping under Billy’s arm as he tries to snag another cookie from the counter. “What did I say about spoiling your dinner?”