Tales From Sea Glass Inn by Karis Walsh Read Free Book Online

Jenny able to relieve
all her tension with a few words? The money she was spending on ingredients and
the time she spent baking, assets she could barely afford to squander, were
worth every stressful moment just to hear Jenny’s compliments.
    “Yes, these are sand dollars. The filling for
this batch is—”
    “Don’t tell me, let me guess.” Jenny shifted
the boxes to her left hand and traced a path along Helen’s lower ribs with her
right index finger. “Strawberry?”
    Helen nearly dropped her boxes at Jenny’s
touch. One finger, a second or two of contact, and a layer of cotton between
them. No big deal. Then why did Helen feel as if her ribs had been seared?
“What?” she asked, more startled by her response than by the touch. She stopped
and faced Jenny.
    “You have the remains of something pink on
your shirt. I thought it might be a clue to the ingredients you used.” Jenny
put both forearms under her pizza boxes again.
    Helen couldn’t read the look in her eyes. She
gave up and stared at the pastry boxes. “I would have changed shirts, but I
wanted to…well, it was almost feeding time, and…”
    Jenny shook her head. “Why bother? We’ll be
covered with oil and mashed bird food before the night is done. Besides, right
now you look good enough to eat.”
    Jenny cleared her throat and started walking
again. Helen swallowed the surge of arousal she felt at the simple statement
and hurried to catch up.
    “Raspberry,” she said.
    “What?”
    Helen grinned. Jenny seemed as distracted by
her company as she was by Jenny’s. “The filling is raspberry, not strawberry.”
    “Even better.”
    They walked in silence while Helen struggled
to find a topic of conversation that wouldn’t leave her breathless. “You have
good taste,” she said. She realized too late that Jenny might think she was
referring to her good
enough to eat comment, and she hurried to explain herself better.
“People make pilgrimages from all over the state to get Fontana’s pizza.”
    “I make it a point to sample all the local
favorites when I’m in a new place,” Jenny said. Helen thought she saw a flush
of red under the crew neck of her sweatshirt. “From local restaurants, I mean,”
she continued in a rush. “Fontana’s pizza, Mel’s scones, your sand dollars.”
    Helen liked having her baked goods lumped in
with the other Cannon Beach specialties. She’d hoped to make that exact name
for herself and her bakery this summer. Too bad she was earning a reputation
from donations instead of sales. Money again. Why worry about it when there was
so little to be made right now?
    “You called yourself a nomad before. Do you
travel all the time?”
    “Yeah,” Jenny said. “It’s the only life I’ve
ever known, except for the years when I was in vet school. My parents worked
with Doctors Without Borders, and I traveled with them from the time I was only
a few months old. I even got my college degree online since I was still a
minor.”
    “Really? What an exciting life you must have
led.” Helen paused at a street corner and looked both ways before crossing the
road even though barely any cars were out. The first weeks of summer had been
crazy, with city-sized traffic on small-town streets. Jenny must be bored with
the meager offerings of Cannon Beach, especially when she compared them to the
grander and more exotic specialties of far-off lands. Helen had moved around
far too much as a child—but not with her parents and not for philanthropic
reasons. She imagined Jenny running through villages like she belonged in them,
playing games with the local children…
    “It wasn’t as romantic and exciting as people
think.” The bitter edge to Jenny’s voice broke through Helen’s daydreams and
caught her full attention. “If my parents were called to a specific place, it
was because a lot of people were sick there, and I wasn’t allowed to mingle
with them. Most of my childhood friends were stray animals I’d find when