Unhealthy Coping Mechanism

Chapter 17

As November decayed into barren trees and frigid winds that were winter's by memory but fall's by birthright, Harriet threw herself into baking at every opportunity. Patricia and Vicky were bringing their kids over for a play date? She prepared pumpkin pie with extra whipped cream. Sam's class was throwing a Thanksgiving party? She sent her little pretend Pilgrim to school with historically inaccurate apple turnovers. Her dad sent a handwritten note thanking her for the sweet early Christmas gift? She sent him a fruitcake she joked would last him until next Christmas.

When she wasn't busy baking, Harriet pored over countless cookbooks. Some days, classic recipes just didn't cut it anymore, so she absorbed every new technique she could. On the rare occasions she could get ahold of her, she picked Carol's brain for bits of kitchen magic. Measure ingredients by weight instead of volume, purchase plenty of parchment paper, brush goodies with egg wash to give them an extra shine: all this and more she learned when both she and Carol happened to be waiting for the oven to finish whatever they happened to be making at the same time.

The kitchen bore the signs of her passion for baking. Sugar clung to every crevice in the tile floor, and the delicate aroma of cinnamon and roasted nuts lingered long after each batch of goodies. Every time Frank returned home, whether that was at a reasonable hour or late enough for Sam to already be fast asleep, he was greeted by a heap of bowls soaking in the sink.

It was only a matter of time before someone took notice.

Harriet breathed deeply as she pulled a tray of piping hot cinnamon rolls out of the oven. Sweet, sticky icing soon dripped down the sides and pooled in the fluffy swirls.

Even a few weeks ago, this dessert would have been met with cheers and overly eager fingers burning themselves on the too-hot rolls. Now, Sam groaned at the sight of yet another dessert. "Easy there, buddy," Frank said. "Your mom put a lot of effort into those. What are you spoiling us with today, babe?"

"Nothing too fancy," Harriet said. "I just thought it would be fun to try infusing some maple syrup into the icing and working raisins into the dough."

Sam shoved his plate away from him as his stomach let out a low gurgle. "I don't want any. My tummy hurts."

That was bullshit. Just a couple hours ago, he'd crammed dozens of blackberries into his mouth to see how many would fit. If he could eat so many of those tart little juice bombs without even batting an eye, surely he could handle a cinnamon roll. "Come on, just one."

"I don't want any!" Sam pouted as if she was trying to force him to trade his usual breakfast of soggy Lucky Charms for a spinach smoothie with extra kale. "Nobody likes these stupid desserts anyway."

"If that's how you're going to be," Harriet said, "then you can go straight to your room. No TV, no videogames, nothing."

"Fine!" He stormed off and slammed the door behind him.

"That might be the first time I've seen a kid punished for not wanting dessert," Frank said. "Don't you think that was a bit harsh? We shouldn't force him to eat something when he's full."

"Oh, like you're one to judge," Harriet said. "You're never even around when it's time to do real parenting."

Frank reacted with none of his usual joking but instead with his eyes cast to his plate as he fidgeted with his wedding ring. "I'm trying," he said. "I know it probably doesn't look like it to you, but I'm trying."

Harriet swallowed a biting retort. What had gotten into her tonight? She wasn't usually this snappy after she'd had a chance to bake. Maybe she should have made a bigger batch. "I guess that's all either of us can do," she said softly.

Frank took a small bite of his cinnamon roll. "Now if we could just try like you bake, we'd be golden. When the hell did you get this good, babe? Not that you weren't good before, but, I mean..." He gave up trying to articulate his thoughts and shoved the rest of the cinnamon roll into his mouth. "You're going to make me the fattest, happiest man alive if you keep this up."

"Practice, I guess." She bit her lip. "Do you think I should go apologize to him?"

"In the morning. He was dialing up the attitude a bit much, so I think we'd better give him some time to cool down."

"Sounds like a plan. And sorry for snapping at you too, by the way. You at least came home at a normal time today."

"Don't mention it," he said. "There is one thing I have to say though."

"What?"

"You've got a couple crumbs on you." He held up a hand to stop her from raising her napkin. "I've got it."

His lips pressed against her cheek as softly and sweetly as icing. "I think you missed a spot," Harriet said.

"Would you mind helping me out?" Frank said with a smirk. "I think I have somethin' stuck on me, too."

They bathed each other in gentle kisses, the cinnamon rolls left cooling and forgotten. "How about we head out this weekend?" Frank said. "Just the two of us?"

Her fingers caressed his firm jawline. "You have something in mind?"

"I already booked it, actually," he said with a nervous chuckle. "I reserved us a table at Chiyo's for this Saturday."

Her heart fluttered. That had been where they'd had their first real date when it had become clear their relationship wasn't just some vacation fling. "That sounds lovely!" So why did the thought of being away from the kitchen all night fill her stomach with snaking dread and make her words come out hoarse? "Are you sure it would be okay to leave Sam alone that long, though?"

He waved that worry off. "Ryan owes me one, so he's totally got us covered in the babysitter department." His eyebrows crinkled together. "This isn't about Sam though, is it?"

"It just feels weird to think about being away from the kitchen that long, you know?"

"Believe me, babe, I know. Sometimes I have a tough time dragging myself out of the office, and that place is a hellhole! A hellhole filled with lots of delicious thank you chocolates from Hershey's, but still a hellhole." His hands wrapped around hers as if they were holding a glass that would shatter at the slightest bit of pressure. "If you don't want to do it, I can cancel it, and we'll figure something else out. I do want to spend time alone with you though, Harriet."

His eyes held enough warmth to tell her he'd accept her answer no matter what it was, but his voice carried a note of desperation that made her heart ache. He must have gone through a lot to even get that reservation. Even after all this time, Chiyo's was still the place to go if you wanted to treat yourself to a memorable evening, and everyone in town knew it. With the holidays so close, getting another reservation if they decided to skip this one would be impossible.

"Eh, what the hell. Let's do it!"

"Thanks for letting me spoil you, babe." His fingers wound through her hair as he pulled her close. "I promise you won't regret it. And hey, maybe we can both bake when we get back."

"As if you'll even be able to move after," Harriet teased. "Last time, you ate so much sushi you smelled like seaweed for a week."

"That stuff is so damn good I could smell like the Pacific for the rest of my life and still be happy." He stifled a yawn. "All this talk about Chiyo's has me slipping into a food coma just thinking about it. Ready to call it a night?"

Her eyes lingered on the oven as she glanced at it over her shoulder, but with her hand clasped in his, she managed to resist its pull.