Read Online Life is Sweet by Elizabeth Bass - Free Book Online

She nodded at the photograph of herself and Harvey. “Actually, when I decided to move from LA, I tossed a dart at a map to decide where.”
    The map had been attached to a demographic chart at the film distribution company where she’d ended up in a snoozer of a job, with areas of the country color-coded to reflect people’s age, disposable income, and movie-going habits. The moment the dart had landed in northern Virginia, it had felt as if the state was calling her. And once she’d hopped on the Internet and viewed the place, with its green hills dotted with horses and its charming small towns, she hadn’t been able to resist the lure. She could start over here—live simply and do things she loved, among people who didn’t view a normal, unpublicized life as a come-down. It was her second chance at life.
    â€œMaybe it was rash, but I just wanted something different. I needed to retrench.”
    Walt nodded. “I understand that feeling.”
    â€œWhy did you leave California?” she asked.
    He turned away and started loading the second coffeemaker. “Just looking for something.”
    That sounded ominous. Maybe it would be best if they tried to avoid chitchat. She retreated to the back of the kitchen and began planning. She preheated the two ovens, which usually stayed on most of the day. She liked to start the day baking the small things that were best fresh—cookies, brownies, cupcakes. The larger cakes she baked later in the day, because cakes usually tasted better after sitting overnight anyway.
    She turned to the storage room, but then stopped herself. The room had no windows, just a back door that stayed bolted. Going in there, she would be out of sight of the street. Cornered. Vulnerable.
    Oh hell. If you’re that nervous about the old guy, you should tell him to go right now.
    She took a deep breath. “Walt?”
    He snapped to attention. “If you want, I can get the floors all washed and shiny for your customers,” he offered. “The front window could use cleaning, too. And then . . . didn’t you say something about deliveries?”
    He hurried past her, into the storage room. Some homing instinct must have told him where she kept the cleaning supplies, because he went right to the broom. “Okay?”
    Looking into those hound-dog eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him to go. She answered with a nod that was more obedient than enthusiastic. “Okay.”
    The phone rang and she scrambled for it, hoping it was Pam or Erin. It just so happened that Pam had a showing and wouldn’t be in until the afternoon, so all morning Becca would be on her own with the ex-jailbird.
    With Walt. She had to stop thinking of him as a jailbird.
    Looking at the little display on her phone, she didn’t recognize the number, although the area code was Los Angeles. Which was weird, because this was the shop’s phone. Also, it would be early in Los Angeles. “Strawberry Cake Shop,” she answered.
    â€œOh—hello!” The woman’s voice jangled a nerve. Not that her actual voice sounded familiar, but the tone did. The speaker exclaimed in that show-business eagerness of someone who was “on.” It was the phone enthusiasm of actors, agents, and desperate entertainment journalists, the kind of bubbly effusiveness that she could imagine flatlining the instant one party hung up. “I’m trying to reach Rebecca Hudson?”
    â€œSpeaking.”
    â€œReally? Rebecca Hudson from Me Minus You ?”
    This was odd. Weeks went by now, occasionally even months, without that show cropping up. Seventeen years was a long time, and even in the age of YouTube, video-on-demand, and DVD boxed sets of everything, people had short memories. Most days she was able to convince herself that her attempt to ride off into the sunset had been successful. But this was the second day in a row that someone had sought her out