The Bakeshop at Pumpkin and Spice Read online

  “But he didn’t,” Bree said, pondering everything Caleb had told her. “He just asked for you, didn’t he?”

  Surprised, Caleb said, “How did you—”

  She lifted her head and smiled at him. “Because you’re meant to be here.” It was all suddenly starting to make sense to her. All the things Sofia and her mother had told her over the years when she would beg them to explain how the Bellaluna magic worked. Their magic was gentle, giving fate a little nudge, so destiny would have a chance to fulfill itself. Caleb had been called to Moonbright, put right in her path. He’d come into the shop right when she’d been trying to make her magical cookies. Because they were for him. He’d felt regret the moment she’d walked out of his kitchen. She’d woken up tonight, knowing he needed her.

  Fate was all but screaming at them to get on with it already and make their destiny happen. The cookie might have made a lingering impression on him, but he’d told her he’d already been interested before then. He’d kissed her freckles, for goodness’ sake. She smiled at that, too.

  “So, what will you do when you figure out where the money went?” she asked him.

  “Actually, that’s exactly what I was thinking about when I came upstairs tonight. Cassi and I had gotten so fixated on figuring out what was going on, as if solving that mystery would solve everything else, that we sort of lost sight of the bigger picture.”

  “Which is?”

  “We don’t know what George wants,” he said. “I don’t know if he thought I’d go digging through his personal stuff. Maybe he chose me because, unlike my older brothers, I’ve never shown the least bit of interest in running a place of my own. I want to cook. Owners and managers don’t get to do that. I like taking care of my kitchen staff, but I don’t want to be responsible for staffing, or hiring or firing, or—”

  “Preaching to the choir,” she said with a soft laugh. “We don’t have staff, or operate in the chaos that you do, but while I absolutely do want to own Bellaluna’s one day and am thrilled that it’s my birthright, I’d be even more thrilled if my mom felt the same way and wanted to actually run the place so I could just bake.”

  “So, what will you do when it passes to you?”

  “Oh, I’ll run it. Maybe with age will come wisdom,” she joked. “Or the will to manage. Or maybe my mama will stop globe-trotting at some point and be content to pick up where Sofia leaves off. She’s great with people, too. Or I’ll hire management help. I can’t run it completely alone anyway. Whatever happens, Bellaluna’s stays in the family. It means I get to be right where I want to be.” She rested her head back on his chest. “It’s like you said earlier. It’s hard to predict what you’ll be willing to do until you’re invested enough to find out. I’m invested enough now to know I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  He made a sound of agreement but didn’t say anything. She felt him toying with her hair, and the little frissons of pleasure it sent trickling down her spine were so lovely, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensations.

  After a few moments’ thought, she said, “So, you think maybe George believed you’d just turn around and go home?” She tried to hide the panic that possibility provoked.

  “Good question,” he said, then covered a yawn with his fist. “Cassi wants us to go talk to the older, long-term employees, see if we can get an idea what was really going on. I’m not sure I want to involve anyone else or signal to anyone that we’re poking around.” He settled down farther in the pillows and pulled the blanket up a little higher. “However we proceed, we will keep whatever we find to ourselves.”

  “And to me,” she said, feeling drowsy now, too.

  He leaned down and kissed the top of her head again. “And you.”

  “I won’t tell,” she said on a yawn of her own. “Not even Sofia.”

  “I know,” he said, and snuggled her closer. “So, enough Greek drama. Tell me about Italy.”

  So, she did. And somewhere in the middle of her tales of sleepily told culinary school mishaps and meeting some of her relatives, they drifted off, and stayed that way, right up until Cassandra walked in on them the next morning.

  Chapter 6

  “Here, Bree.” Cassi passed her a stack of bank statements. “These are from last year.”

  Bree leaned forward from her cross-legged position on the floor of George Castellanos’s living room and took the stack. “Do you think the problem would go back that far? We’re almost at the end of this year.”

  Cassi lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. The books at the restaurant show the overhead so far this year had the typical fluctuation. Some expenses went up, but not enough to really impact the profit margin, much less wipe it out.” She flipped through the stack of current statements in her hands. “But he’s not depositing it. Well, not all of it. He’s got a new mortgage on the house that he took out just this spring. My aunt and uncle owned it outright before that. But it wasn’t for a lot of money. Less than fifty thousand dollars. And he’s making payments on that on time.”

  Caleb was seated on the couch. He turned one of the composition notebooks around. “This one is for this quarter. There have been layoffs, but George is still turning over the same number of tables every night, so the employees he kept were working more. He didn’t start cutting back on their hours until just last month.” Caleb set the book down. “From the two Cassi spoke to this morning before giving us our wake-up call, they didn’t seem mad at George, but they didn’t want to talk about it.”

  Caleb noticed Bree’s cheeks flush a little at his comment about the wake-up call, but Cassi spoke first. “Don’t go making her feel self-conscious there, adelfouli. I’ve already profusely apologized. If it were Matty, I’d have knocked first. I just never expected . . .” She trailed off and looked at Bree. “We’re good, right?” Bree laughed and nodded, and Cassi added, “Besides, you should take that as a good sign. He’s not a hound dog like our other brother. I mean, you were both still half dressed.” She turned to Caleb. “Maybe you should talk to Matty. Your skill set might need a little boost.”

  Bree shocked both brother and sister by saying, “Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary.”

  Caleb choked on a short laugh and felt his own cheeks heat. “Okay, okay. My love life—our love life—is officially off-limits for discussion.”

  Cassi hooted with laughter. “Have you met our family?” She turned to Bree. “You might want to bide your time, build up your Dimitriou defenses a little, before letting him bring you to Philly. Maybe we should send Matty and Lander up here first, you know, as a warm-up.” She turned to Caleb. “And Aunt Daphne.”

  “The one with the cats?” Bree asked.

  Cassi sent a surprised look from Bree to her brother and back to Bree. “Oh, so you’re already hearing the stories. Well, wait till you get to hear the stories about this one.”

  Caleb shot his sister a brilliant smile. “I’m rethinking the seating for Thanksgiving this year. How do you feel about taking that spot between cousin Eudora and Uncle Santos?”

  Cassi turned an equally blinding smile to Bree. “I love Maine. Could you recommend a good real-estate agent to me? And do you happen to have room at your table this Thanksgiving? I make an amazing baklava.”

  Without missing a beat, Bree said, “There will always be a chair for you. Sadly, we’ll have only the one, so I guess Caleb will have to take your seat in Philly.” Both women turned to him as if on cue with sad, pouty faces. “Poor Caleb.”

  He shook his head. “I never should have let the two of you meet.”

  “I don’t recall there being any ‘letting’ about it,” Cassi said, then turned to Bree. “He might not be a hound dog, but he is still a Greek. And a man.” She patted Bree’s knee. “We’ll talk later. Also, I would love a tour of your kitchen. I’ve heard wonderful things, like you have an anise pear muffin?” She grinned. “So much to talk about.”

  Caleb just groaned and turned back to his notebooks. “As I was saying before I lost co
mplete control of my life, it sounds like George’s employees were really loyal to him.”

  She nodded. “They both said they wanted to stay as long as they could. They could see that the restaurant was still doing good business. They were more worried about George than anything.” She shook her head. “But they’re loyal to him, they won’t speak ill of him. I think they’d come back if they could. He’s a beloved man, from everything I can tell. And I still believe he wouldn’t stiff his own staff unless it was something . . . I don’t even know. What would it have to be? What could be more important to him than that? To make him risk his good name, his wife’s good name?”

  “Do you think it could be something like gambling debts?” Bree offered, then immediately lifted her hand when both siblings turned to her, surprise on their faces. “I’m not casting aspersions. I just know that might be the kind of thing where you get in over your head with very few options to get back out again. It can be like an addiction, right? I was just trying to think what kinds of payments wouldn’t go out from the bank or show as being paid by a check or credit card. The missing money isn’t stashed in a savings account, and we can’t find any evidence of some other account he might have opened.”

  “I can’t imagine George getting into trouble like that,” Caleb said.

  “Well, if he got himself in deep enough, maybe there were threats made.” Bree shrugged, then gave them a rueful smile. “I watch too much crime-of-the-week TV, but that is a real thing, right? Bookies? Or whatever? Assuming the money isn’t going into an account somewhere, then maybe it’s being paid to someone, most likely in cash since we can’t find any paper trail. That’s the only thing I can think of that might result in having to make regular, large, off-book cash payments.”

  “No offense taken,” Caleb said, feeling a bit shaken by the possibility. “It’s a logical conclusion. Just . . . I find it really hard to believe of George. He’s never even been a sports fan. From what I can tell by the time clock cards—which he was old-fashioned enough to use, even for himself—he was pretty much always at work, or here with Alethea. He didn’t even play golf, or cards, or whatever,” Caleb added. “Alethea had more regular hours, but George was always at the restaurant. No regular time off or any other kinds of expenditures that would indicate he took off for the track or to some other kind of thing, like a casino. If there is even anything like that around here.”

  “I think you can do that kind of thing online now,” Bree offered.

  Cassi brightened at that suggestion. “Maybe that is a clue, though.” She glanced up at Caleb. “Maybe we should look at George’s computer. I know he’s so old-school he even does all his banking in person, but there is an old desktop model in the office. I saw it when I went looking for files. We can look at the search history or list of sites he’s visited. That might tell us a lot.”

  “Considering he still gets paper statements for everything and doesn’t even have a debit card, I’m not sure how much we’ll learn,” Caleb said, “but it’s definitely an overlooked resource.” He turned to Bree. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “That’s the kind of outside perspective I was talking about.”

  Cassi got up and stretched. “Okay, I’ll go see if I can boot up the old thing. He’s so technology averse, I never thought about it. Silly, really. Thanks, Bree.”

  Bree nodded and Cassi fluttered her fingers at the two of them. “Please feel free to get all googly-eyed and mushy-faced while I’m gone. I’ve sworn off all that for at least a year, so I could do without the reminder of what I’m missing.” She smiled sweetly at them both, then did a little boogie as she strolled out of the room.

  “Why have you sworn off romance?” Caleb called out after her, suddenly concerned. “Did something happen?”

  “You’re wasting smoochy time,” she called back. “And don’t worry,” she added dryly, “I’ll be sure to make a lot of noise before I come into the room this time.”

  Caleb chuckled and turned to find Bree had both hands covering her face.

  “She’s just teasing,” he said. “Though I guess I should warn you, that will never end.”

  “I consider myself warned,” Bree said, letting her hands fall back to her lap. She was smiling. “I like her. A lot. She’s so different from you and yet you’re really great together. I don’t have siblings, and I’ve always wondered how I’d have felt about it.” She grinned. “I liked being an only. But it might have been cool to have a big brother.” She tapped her chin and her expression turned to one of consideration. “As long as he didn’t try to take over the kitchen.”

  “I have two brothers I’ll be more than happy to loan out,” he said. “Though no promises on that last part.” Caleb stood and stretched his arms over his head, then raked his hands through his hair. He was going to go cross-eyed if he had to stare at statements and handwritten ledgers for even another minute. He offered her his hand. “Let’s go see if there’s something we can scrounge up for lunch.” He rubbed his flat stomach with his other hand. “I’m starved.”

  “You fed us this morning like you were cooking for an army of ten,” she said, looking surprised. “I won’t need to eat for a week.”

  He grinned. “More for me, then. I knew we made a good pair.”

  She laughed and took his hand. He pulled her to her feet and conveniently right into his arms. He smiled down into her face, thinking that the world around them might be confusion and chaos, but at that particular moment, he was right where he wanted to be.

  “So,” Bree said, giving his admittedly smug expression a considering look of her own, “this brother of yours, Matteo? He sounds interesting.”

  Caleb bent his head down and kissed her. Gently at first, then with a little more heat, and that was just the first part.

  “Matty who?” she said faintly, when he finally lifted his head.

  Caleb grinned, liking the pink flush on her cheeks, already hungry to feel those bow-tie lips on his again. “Looks like my moves are getting smoother,” he told her, then wiggled his eyebrows. “My glasses didn’t fog this time.”

  She surprised him by moving in closer. “Then I must not be doing my part right.” She pulled his head down and kissed him, and took her sweet time about it, too. They both laughed when they finally opened their eyes and there was a distinct mist on his lenses.

  He slid them off to clean them and she held his hand down by their side, smiling into his eyes. “Ah, I see your plan now,” he said.

  “Guilty,” she said. “I can’t help it, I like looking at them. I always wanted an actual eye color,” she told him. “Yours are so beautiful.”

  He leaned in and dropped a short kiss on her mouth. “I rather like the magic of yours.”

  She blinked at that, looking startled. “What did you say?”

  He faltered for a moment, but couldn’t see how there was any offense in his observation. “Just that I never know what color yours will be. They’re kind of grayish blue with a little brown when you’re laughing or smiling.” He tipped her chin up and very slowly, very deliberately, took her mouth in a deep, scorching kiss. When he lifted his head, his smile was slow. “And more of a grayish green when you’re aroused. Magical.”

  She smiled, but something else flickered in her expression, and he couldn’t tell if it was a bad thing, but it wasn’t clearly a good thing, either.

  “What did I say?” he asked quietly. “I meant it as a compliment.”

  “I know,” she said. “And I like it. I do.” She smiled then, and it was sincere. “I’ve never had cool eyes before. I’ll take it.”

  She was avoiding something, though, and it really gave him pause. The one thing about Abriana that drew him in so fully and had moved things forward between them so swiftly was her absolute openness. She was right up front, no games, no guessing what she was really thinking. Whatever subject came up, whatever they talked about, there was some connection. Oftentimes it was their like-mindedness, and where they differed, there was sincere interes
t to know more.

  When two people were being so transparent, there was no time wasted. He always knew where they both stood, and to his utter delight, that was most often right where they were just now. Deep in each other’s personal space, laughing, talking, wanting.

  Maybe he was hoping for too much, wanting immediate, full access. He tried to think of a single thing he wouldn’t be willing to tell her, or discuss with her, but nothing came to mind. He truly was an open book. And he’d thought the same of her. So it was a tiny bit disconcerting to discover there was at least one part of herself she was holding back.

  If he needed a cold dousing of reality to slow down this fantasy relationship train, this might be the thing to do it. Trust was important to him. Imperative. But did that mean he had the right to expect her to be willing to reveal all to him? Or was the real meaning of trust that he believed if it was something he needed to know, she’d tell him, but otherwise he should respect her silence?

  “I’m sorry,” she said, and he realized that his thoughts must have shown on his face.

  “There’s nothing to apologize for. Just because I want to know everything about you doesn’t mean I have the right to expect you to tell me everything. I respect your privacy. It’s your business.”

  She ducked her chin, took a moment, then looked back at him. “Thank you,” she said. “I want to talk about it. I want to tell you everything.” A smile teased the corner of her mouth. “Bore you to tears, make you wish you’d never asked.”