Work Text:
“What are you doing?”
“What?”
Macy stopped mid-whisk, a dollop of creamy yellow batter continuing the now paused trajectory of her wrist to splatter onto her grey sweatshirt. The kitchen around her stood out in a state of disarray. Flour and batter littered the island as though small battles had been waged in alternating locations across the dark marble. More than half of their baking utensils were scattered on the countertop; measuring cups mixing with measuring spoons in a chaotic clash that spoke of no order. Macy Vaughn was a scientist in every aspect of her life except the kitchen. In the kitchen, entropy reigned supreme.
“Mel,” Macy said. She didn’t know why she was so surprised. Both girls had been home for hours now. “I thought you were still doing homework.”
“I finished it already.” Mel waved her hand as if to dispel the line of questioning.
“You...” Macy dropped the whisk to wipe her hands on a kitchen towel, eyes narrowing in disbelief. “...finished it already?”
Her brows rose, emphasizing her skepticism. Mel never finished any type of math homework before seven at night. A sore-spot for the young girl when it came to her school assignments.
Mel, already sensing where the conversation was headed, quickly rounded the kitchen island. Her burgundy and gold striped socks shuffled across the cherry-red wood of the floor as she moved into Macy’s personal space. She stretched herself up, tilting her head to take a closer look at the concoction her cousin was whipping together.
“Why are you stress baking?” She asked.
Macy sighed, aware of the diversion but not having the heart to call her out on it. They’d get to the homework assignment eventually. No one in the household was allowed to sleep until all work was completed. It was a part of parenting that she’d unconsciously carried over from her own childhood with her father.
“I’m not…?” she responded.
“You’re doing this for fun?!” Mel exclaimed, her expression one of disbelief.
“Uh, No…?” Macy cringed before straightening her stance and staring down at Mel.
Technically, she was the adult and didn’t have to answer any questions if she didn’t want to. Mel mirrored her pose, crossing her own arms and widening her stance to affect a more serious pose. Macy, barely held back a smirk at the un-intimidating image the young girl presented. She would soon grow into herself, but at her current age, Mel Vera was all thin limbs, big eyes and a whole lot of hair. Neither of them took notice of Maggie walking into the kitchen.
Maggie sighed at the scene that greeted her. She knew from previous experience that if given half the chance, Macy and Mel would stare each other down until the end of time before either of them broke. It was quite ridiculous if you asked her, which of course no one ever did. Because if they had, she’d tell them. It was ridiculous.
“Can we not do this tonight?” She whined, her voice rising an extra octave to solidify that she was not on board with whatever argument they were having.
Mel turned to her younger sister, a smirk warming its way across her face and lighting her eyes with mischief.
“Macy is baking for fun.”
Maggie blinked, opened her mouth to respond, and then blinked several more times when no words came out.
“Yeah,” Mel stated, nodding her head as though her sister’s silence was a declaration of something pivotal. “My thoughts exactly.”
“First of all,” Macy began, uncrossing her arms to point a finger at herself. “Friendly reminder, I’m the adult and I don’t have to explain myself to either of you.”
“Uh Uh,” Maggie countered, moving to climb up onto one of the island stools. She leaned onto the marble countertop, paying no mind to the flour dusting the sleeves of her dark pink sweater.
“Open communication and honesty are the building blocks of a happy home. Those were your words Mace.”
“Funny, how you seem to only be capable of remembering certain things I say.” Macy deadpanned, unimpressed with the little girl's use of her own words against her.
Maggie smiled brightly, “my mind is still growing, I can’t remember everything all the time.”
“Actually,” Mel cut in, interrupting any lecture her cousin was set to give in reply. “Can we get back to the whole, you’re baking for fun, thing?”
“Fine,” Macy said, turning around and picking her whisk back up. “If you both must know, I’m trying out a new recipe for your school bake sale next week.”
The sharp sound of the whisk scraping against the glass bowl filled the kitchen. Mel and Maggie shared a look, Macy’s response doing nothing to alleviate their confusion.
“But Mace,” Maggie started, her voice a whisper. She leaned across the island, her expression turning serious. “You don’t know how to bake.”
Macy looked up slowly, and with every ounce of her 30 years projected into her voice the full weight of parental authority.
“Maggie. Mel. Go to your room.”
It wasn’t until after both Vera sisters were huddled against the door of Mel’s room that they heard the muffled sound of screaming followed by a very distinct ‘for fuck’s sake!’
Maggie turned to her big sister with wide eyes. “I don’t think she’s doing it for fun.”
—
Harry Greenwood was not nervous. Harry Greenwood did not get nervous. He was a tenured, respected, professor, and the head of his department to be specific. He’d gotten through a nasty divorce and an even nastier custody battle. He’d even managed to move his son across the pond to a new country and get him relatively settled with few tears. He was not nervous; he was made of steel.
“Dad, are you okay?” Carter asked, large eyes staring up at his father in concern.
“Of course. I am the epitome of okay. Why wouldn’t I be?” Harry replied, almost insulted at the question. He was not nervous.
“You’re starting to sweat,” Carter replied.
“That’s because I’m the only one carrying all these baked goods. Perhaps, if I had a little help…”
Harry gave a pointed look at the remaining box of double chocolate, fudge brownies in the car. Carter took the hint, moving around his father to reach into the open car door and pull out the last box.
“Are you worried about seeing a girl?” He asked once they’d started making their way out of the parking lot and towards the open field behind Hilltowne Elementary.
The school’s annual Fall bake sale was a highly anticipated and well-regarded charity function. Students and their guardians were invited to sign up for a stall and bring in a signature baked item to the sale. One of the large fields behind the school, doubling as both their soccer and track zone, was utilized and the entire school grounds were temporarily open to the public. The students and parents participating were given a spot to set up and interspersed throughout the rest of the field were small contributing businesses who’d chosen to donate their time. The air was imbued with a festive feeling despite the October chill. Colorful stalls with bright oranges and vibrant yellows splashed onto the white wood gave everything a very distinct seasonal feel. The warm smell of honey, apple cider, and baked food only added to the intensity.
Harry, saw none of that, almost tripping over his feet at his son’s question.
“I beg your pardon?” He asked after regaining his composure.
“You kept talking to yourself when you were making these last night,” Carter stated, his eyes trained on his feet as they shifted from the concrete of the lot to the rubber of the track, and then the grass of the field. He refused to trip and embarrass himself.
“You were saying things like, ‘does she even like chocolate?’ And ‘she probably won’t even be there’. I heard you.”
“Oh.” Harry swallowed. There didn’t seem to be any sadness or anger in Carter’s voice. In fact, it was even and only carried curiosity. Harry didn’t know what to make of that. They’d never discussed him and the possibility of other women since the divorce. Frankly, Harry had considered it to be a non-factor. He’d been so wrapped up in getting his own life back on track, while ensuring that his son remained as worry-free as possible that, truth-be-told, he hadn’t thought he’d even have the bandwidth for something like a crush. In the presence of day and Carter’s question it almost felt...juvenile.
“Carter.” Harry stopped walking, putting a hand on his son’s shoulder to stop his forward movement.
Carter looked up at his father, “If we’re having a moment, can I put this down first? It’s getting heavy.”
Harry laughed before taking the box from his son and stacking it on top of his own. “Is that better?”
“Yes!” Carter exclaimed, shaking out his arms in exaggeration.
Harry chuckled, turning and continuing towards where their assigned stall would be, his pace a lot slower than before.
“I’m not…,” he began, before correcting himself. “I’m just a tad bit nervous.”
“About seeing a girl?”
“Yes, but…” Harry mumbled a curse, feeling his ears heat up. “Only because I think she’s quite lovely. Nothing else.”
“Well, that’s gross,” Carter stated, without missing a beat.
Harry rolled his eyes skyward and let out another soft chuckle, pleased at his son’s nonchalance. For now, it seemed the conversation he was dreading was a non-priority.
“Oh! There’s Maggie!” Carter shouted, and without waiting for Harry’s permission took off across the field, his slight build allowing him to weave between the throng of people setting up.
Harry immediately felt his heart rate speed up at the exclamation. Maggie Vera would not be there alone, and that meant that Dr. Macy Vaughn would also be in attendance. He licked his lips as the nerves he’d been convincing himself he didn’t have seemed to renew their vigorous bubbling in his gut. He really hoped she liked chocolate.
—
Macy couldn’t help but laugh at Maggie’s attempts at ‘helping’, which only seemed to delay their progress further. Every other minute the little girl seemed to find a better way of positioning the cupcakes they’d brought for “maximum cuteness Mace, don’t you know anything?” Apparently, she didn’t.
Mel had chosen to ‘put her energy where it mattered most’, which meant scoping out every stall as more students arrived with their guardians to set up. The stall that got voted best baked good would receive an honorable mention in the school announcements the following week. Having never participated in such an event at any school, Macy hadn’t realized there’d be a competitive nature to the whole thing. She paused in her amusement at Maggie to really take in the cupcakes she’d finally managed to whip together. They were cherry flavored with a brown sugar and vanilla whipped cream topping. She’d thought the mix of tart and sweet would be appealing, but now as she glanced around at all the other confections being displayed, began to doubt herself. An assortment of pies, cookies, brownies, and other various loaves of bread was being assembled. Perhaps she’d been too adventurous for a school event.
“Maggie! Hey Maggie!”
Macy and Maggie’s heads whipped up at the sound to find Carter, dressed in the most age-inappropriate sweater Macy had ever laid eyes on, running towards them. Maggie blinked several times, wondering if Carter’s grandfather had dressed him that morning. He stopped at their red and orange painted stall, slightly out of breath but with a bright smile.
“Why are you wearing that?” Maggie asked, pointing at the offensive piece of clothing.
“Maggie!” Macy exclaimed.
Carter sighed, pulling at the material of his sweater. “It’s ugly I know, but dad says you have to have a jumper for every occasion and he only talks more when I try to say no.”
Maggie laughed, “oh, trust me, I know all about that.”
“Margarita Vera, I’m standing right here,” Macy said, unsurprised when the little girl continued to ignore her.
“Do you want to go see what other people brought?” Maggie grinned broadly, stepping out from behind the stall.
“Yeah, let’s go!” He replied, before they both took off in the opposite direction.
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Macy mumbled. “I’m just going to be here. By myself.”
She carefully rearranged the cupcakes, twisting the 4-tiered plate stand she’d talked herself into buying so that an even number was on each level. When that was completed, she moved on to her next task. She was bent over the stall, her upper body resting across the hard surface of the wood, to pin their sign on the front when she heard his voice. Smooth, warm, British and an utter menace to the beat of her heart.
“Looks like we’re stall-mates.” He greeted.
Macy turned her head, her dark curls spilling over her shoulder as she glanced up at him from her inverted position.
“We’re what now?”
Harry motioned to the stall beside hers, mostly white with burnt yellow, brown and orange leaves painted across it.
“Oh.” She replied, standing up and tugging the hem of her red sweater down self-consciously.
Harry moved to put his boxes down before turning to her with a smile. He was dressed far more casually compared to their last meeting. A deep green sweater vest was thrown over a white oxford shirt, buttoned to the collar. He’d paired the ensemble with a whimsical tie, bright red and gold leaves swirling against a slate gray background. Macy couldn’t help her responding smile, he looked equal parts cute and ridiculous.
“I guess we are.” She moved closer to his two boxes. “What did you make?”
“Ah, ah,” Harry waggled a finger as he pushed the baked items away from her. “Ladies, first.”
Macy rolled her eyes but complied, turning back towards her own display. She tugged at her sleeves before making a half-hearted gesture at the four, tiered plate stands they’d set up.
“Tah-dah,” she shrugged. “It’s not much, thought I’d try my hand at something a bit different.”
Harry moved closer, the light smell of his cologne pleasantly washing over her. Macy felt a shiver run through her at his proximity.
“May I?” He asked, hands politely clasped behind his back, awaiting her permission.
“Yeah, go ahead.” Macy swallowed.
Harry carefully took a delicate-looking cupcake, the blue tissue paper a bright contrast between his fingers. The smell of warm sugar and vanilla immediately wafted towards him and he inhaled deeply. He met Macy’s gaze, her brown eyes watching him anxiously as he slowly peeled back a portion of the wrapping before taking a bite.
Macy watched with anticipation. Warmth curling in her stomach as the white of his teeth slowly sunk into each layer; first, the beige frosting and then the pale yellow of the confection. Harry’s gaze shuttered, savoring the light sweetness that greeted his taste buds before being surprised by an explosion of tartness he hadn’t been expecting. Cherries. He flicked out his tongue, sweeping up the additional frosting that hadn’t quite made it into his mouth.
“My goodness,” Harry exclaimed, his eyes finally opening.
Macy glanced down at the cupcake left in his hand, the red of the cherries appearing like burst capillaries against the yellow spongey texture. She needed a second before making eye-contact, scared of what message her face would undoubtedly send him.
“Dr. Vaughn, these are splendid!” Harry stated.
Macy glanced up, her brows rising in question, “They’re not,” she waved her hand, searching for the right word, “too much?”
“Well,” Harry began. “I can’t guarantee that Hilltowne’s illustrious elementary schoolers will be able to pick up all the subtleties of taste…” He smiled at her resulting laugh. “But, I am certainly a fan.”
“Well then, good.”
“Quite.”
Macy found it hard to look away as he stared at her; the wide smile on her face turning soft as she looked back at him. The sounds of children and everyone else faded into the backdrop as they continued to hold each other’s gaze. Harry took another step closer to her, delighted when she didn’t turn away. Up close, he could see better the brown of her eyes and the way the hue of her sweater brought out the golden undertones of her skin. He hadn’t lied when he’d told Carter that he thought she was lovely. However, it seemed his memory had done her a disservice, reality proving to be far better than what he’d been conjuring.
Macy cleared her throat, “are you going to show me yours?”
“Show you my…?” Harry asked, finding it hard to concentrate on anything but her.
“Baked goods?” Macy grinned, biting her lip as his eyes widened further. He took a step back from her, eyes scanning to see if anyone else had heard.
“Dr. Vaughn, while I appreciate…”
Macy silently gestured towards his stall and watched in amusement as a red blush rose impressively on his face.
“Yes, well,” Harry coughed, reaching up with his unoccupied hand to adjust the tie at his throat. He shoved the rest of the cupcake in his mouth, turning away from her and chewing furiously as he fought the heat spreading rapidly across his face.
“Of course, I understood what you meant,” Harry said, the words barely decipherable between the mash of frosting and moist cake in his mouth.
Macy laughed, patting him on the shoulder and moving back towards his stall.
“Here, I’ll help you set up and in return, you can save me a piece of whatever you made for later.”
Harry could only nod, swallowing down the last of her delicious cupcake as she began pulling out the containers of Tupperware he’d used for the brownies.
He really did hope she liked chocolate.
—
She didn’t just like it, she loved it.
It seemed, Harry mused, that he had inadvertently discovered Dr. Macy Vaughn’s singular weakness in life; not counting her young charges, of course. He watched, utterly fascinated, as she seemed to rejoice in every bite of the brownies, he’d spent hours trying to perfect. They’d been quite the crowd-pleaser and his only regret was that he’d been unable to save more than one morsel for her. Macy didn’t seem bothered by it. She paid him no attention, her focus on each bite, the richness of the chocolate and the moist, airy texture of the brownie. Harry shifted where he sat on the hood of her car, moving closer to her warmth as the late evening chill began to penetrate between his clothes. The bake sale had ended an hour ago but many parents had chosen to linger and allow their kids a chance to play together.
“I dare say, Dr. Vaughn, I’ve yet to see anyone quite as enamored by a brownie as you.”
“You know you can just call me Macy, right?” Macy asked, licking fudge off her fingers. “Unless you want me walking around calling you professor?”
She punctuated the last part with a final lick at the space between her thumb and forefinger.
Harry inhaled sharply, watching the retreat of her pink tongue before quickly looking away. The last thing he needed was for her to read the inappropriate thoughts that had flashed through his mind.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Ask me anything you wish,” Harry responded.
His attention was now focused on the field where Carter, Mel, and Maggie were playing an odd game of pausing and running at infrequent intervals. He tilted his head as he tried to figure out what they were doing.
“Are you mad at your son?” Macy asked, pointing her chin towards the boy in question.
Harry’s gaze pivoted between Carter and Macy; confusion written across his face at her question.
“Pardon?”
“That sweater, Harry. You have to burn it. It’s cruel.”
“I’ll have you know that sweater- “
“Belonged to your grandfather?” Macy interrupted.
Harry stared at her for a beat. Straightening his back, he responded with the sternest voice he could muster
“Take that back.”
Amongst the background of kids yelling, adult conversations and cars starting up for the drive home, Macy’s laughter rang clear as bells in the evening air.