Life is Sweet (31 page)

“Abby, will you please step forward?”

A hush fell over them, broken only by the crackling flames and Abby's snuffling. Everybody knew this meant the end of her, and as she trembled forward, it was clear Abby knew, too.

“It's not fair,” she mumbled, tearing up like a contestant from
America's Next Top Model
.

Becca had expected Renee to bring up Abby's sniping and unpleasant personality traits, and she did enumerate a few of those. But then she played video montage of Abby growing ever-more hysterical throughout the treasure hunt as she was unable to find anything. The footage culminated in a shot of Abby “dropping” her GPS device and kicking snow over it. Evidently getting lost and blaming not having a GPS had been her ruse to both camouflage her incompetence and put her at the center of attention.

While Abby broke down in sobs, Renee scolded her mercilessly for wasting resources on an unnecessary rescue. Then she stepped forward, gloved hands extended, and asked Abby to surrender her torch. Abby wept inconsolably, then tossed her torch into the snow. “I hate you!” she yelled at Renee. She turned to the others. “I hate you all!”

She fled inside.

Becca couldn't help a swell of admiration. Love her or hate her, Abby always made for lively television.

On the televised show, after the loser's torch was passed back, the camera would then cut to that person getting on a plane and being flown off the mountain. But the real reality was more awkward. Night flying was more dangerous, so the plane carrying the axed cast member would not leave until the following morning.

They all spent a last tense night with Abby, who did not recover from her loss with good grace. She hunched on her bunk, weeping noisily and honking into a tissue all through dinner, refusing to eat anything except her contraband energy bars, the wrappers of which she rustled extra-noisily.

Becca tried to ignore her as everyone else did. But everyone didn't have to sleep in the bunk directly underneath Abby. She told herself she should be happy—she'd achieved her goal of outlasting Abby on the show. The bad news, of course, was that her own win was a Pyrrhic victory, since she now had to spend at least another week in Alaska.

When she awoke the next morning, Becca shivered out of bed and got dressed as soon as possible. She always tried to be up before the others, before taping commenced and the stupid cabin tasks would begin. She shoved her feet into snow boots, layered on sweaters and coat, scarf and hat, and headed outside, tensing against the cold. As always, the air was so chilly it seemed to freeze her lungs at first. She went to the edge of the hill, taking in the spectacular view of the valley below. The whole world had been dusted by fresh snow, and in the perfect stillness of the morning light, the landscape was bathed in a burnished glow. Sometimes, early in the morning like this, she could catch sight of wildlife—glimpses of caribou, wolves, and foxes, and those hearty birds who stuck around for the winters.

This morning, unfortunately, the only other being out with her was Abby, who had followed her. When Becca identified her under her puffy white coat, she groaned. So much for tranquility.

Abby tromped right up to her. “I'm never going to forgive you for this,” she declared.

“For what?”

“For undermining me. Don't deny it.”

“You underestimate yourself,” Becca said. “You're your own worst enemy, not me.”

Abby planted gloved hands on her hips. “I could have won this if it hadn't been for you. Your antagonism wreaked havoc on my nerves.”

Becca laughed. “You can stop now. The cameras aren't rolling.”

“Good.” Abby crunched closer. “Then they won't see this.”

Becca caught sight of Abby's outstretched arm and stepped back in time to avoid the push. Unfortunately, the step back did just as much damage as a shove would have. She stumbled backward and then slid, wheeling her arms in a hopeless bid to restore her balance. The fall, when it came, registered at first as a brief shock of being airborne, her heart in her throat. Landing knocked the air out of her, and she couldn't say how long she lay there before the agony hit her. She opened her eyes to Abby directly above, peering down at her over the drop-off.

“Becca?” Abby asked, her voice quavering as if she hadn't quite thought through the consequences of shoving someone off a mountain.

Becca groaned. “Get help.”

Abby nodded in panic. “Okay, but you realize I didn't touch you, right? I mean, I really didn't.”

Becca tried to answer, but hissed in a breath instead. She did a quick check to see if all her parts were in working order. Everything moved, except her leg, which was twisted in a weird way and hurt too damn much to be paralyzed. “Just get help,” she bit out. She was wolf bait out here.

“Because I should tell you right now, suing me would be really pointless,” Abby shouted down at her. “I'm all tapped out. My condo's double-mortgaged.”

“Go!”

Abby nodded, and in the next instant the hurried crunch of retreating footsteps reached Becca's ears. She closed her eyes again and heard Abby screaming. “Help! Becca fell off the mountain!”

Technically true—leaving out the detail that she'd fallen to avoid being pushed. However, falling off the mountain would be her ticket home, which would be nice. As long as she wasn't maimed for life. Her only regret was that she wouldn't be there to witness Abby's walk of shame to the airplane, and then see her flown out of her life forever. At least it would be caught on tape. For Becca, it would be must-see TV.

 

So many lawyers filled Becca's hospital room, it was difficult to breathe. Tort anxiety filled the air.

“We will pay you for the run of the show, although of course you won't get the winner's bonus,” Renee explained to her. The producer was flanked by three—count 'em—three attorneys.

Being paid for shows she wasn't going to appear on was good. Especially since they were covering medical costs and a generous cash settlement. But she was curious. “What's the final challenge?”

“A cross-country sled dog race,” Renee said.

Putting her former cabin mates behind a team of huskies seemed like a dicey proposition. Especially for the canines. “I hope those dogs know what they're doing.”

“Our technical advisors tell us it's foolproof,” Renee said.

Of course. What could go wrong?

Becca thought about her situation a little more. “Won't my departure cause a problem? You'll be one week short, material-wise.”

“Oh no. Your fall is enough for almost an entire episode. We got some very dramatic footage of the rescue helicopter. And of course, Abby cried a lot, which is good.” She frowned. “It means we'll have to delay showing her being flown out, but your fall will make a great cliff-hanger. We kept Abby on an extra day to stage a reenactment. With editing, it shouldn't look too cheesy.”

Becca wouldn't have thought cheesiness would be an obstacle.

She spent an hour signing releases, nondisclosure agreements, and forms outlining the show's promise to cover hospital and other medical bills incurred from her accident. She hoped she wouldn't have to draw too much on the latter. The doctors she'd spoken to so far had said her fractured leg would mend as good as new.

Finally, everyone cleared out, and she sank back against her pillows. She was slightly annoyed to see one last person left standing at the door. Then she recognized him. “Matthew!” As fast as she could, she hit the button to raise the back of her bed.

She held out her arms, but he didn't need much coaxing. They kissed, and she had to resist the urge to yank him down on the bed with her. The spirit was willing, but her leg might not appreciate it.

“I brought you some things.” He produced a Strawberry Cake Shop box. Becca groaned in happiness to see it. Suddenly, the prospect of going home and living her life again felt real. “Erin's been experimenting with caramel-sea salt frosting,” he said. “She wants to know what you think.”

Her immediate thought was that it looked delish.

“And Walt downloaded some music onto your iPod. He wanted me to bring it to you.”

“How is he?”

Matthew's brow scrunched. “He didn't feel up to the trip. That's why you have me instead.”

“You'll do,” she said. “In your letter you said they'd found a donor for Walt. What's going on with that?”

“That's what I wanted to talk to you about.” Matthew pulled his chair closer to the bed. “I'm the donor.”

The blood drained out of Becca's face, leaving her light-headed. She sank back again. “I don't like this.”

“Why?” he asked. “We've been doing all sorts of antigen and antibody tests. I'm a perfect match.”

“It doesn't matter,” she insisted. “This is wrong.”

“It's no more wrong than you donating, or some other close friend or relative.”

“But you're not close. You only know him because of me.”

“And doesn't that mean something? The father of the woman I love?”

That word,
love,
would have made her melt . . . had this been any other moment. They had been together for months, although the crazy show had put an unwelcome hold on their budding relationship. It was too soon to talk about everlasting devotion and giving up kidneys for each other's relatives, wasn't it? “Relationships can fall apart. Even love can fall apart,” she said. “Look at you and Nicole.”

He shook his head emphatically. “Not the same. Nicole and I weren't right for each other.”

“But you thought you were.”

“I was wrong, and I should have known it from the beginning. Or at least from the moment she said she didn't want to marry me.”

“What if we never get married?” she countered.

“Do you want to?”

“Well, yeah, but—” She broke off, stunned at what she was saying. A mad smile tugged at her lips. She hadn't hesitated at all. And now that the words were out there, she didn't want to retract them. “Yeah.”

He grinned back at her. “If I'd known you'd be so easy, I would have come armed with a diamond ring, not just cupcakes and your own iPod.”

She laughed. “Not so sure about that—I
really like
cupcakes.” She tried to be serious again. “This is all going way too fast. And you don't have to give my father a kidney for me to say yes. The timing feels wrong to me.”

“I know. Believe me, I've seen a whole battery of counselors at the transplant center. I'm not attaching any strings to the donation. What I'm doing, I'm doing for Walt. He's become my friend.” He shook his head. “I know more about jazz, poker, and incarceration now than I ever could have imagined.”

He was half-joking, but she nodded in understanding. Walt had taught her a few things, too. The past months had taken both her and Matthew in directions they could never have expected. The most amazing thing was that their separate paths had crossed and re-crossed, and now their futures were bound up together.

“The important thing right now is to get you home,” Matthew said.

“You don't know how good that sounds. Or how far away home has seemed for all these weeks.” But when she bit into Erin's cupcake, and looked into Matthew's eyes, home was suddenly right there with her.

Epilogue

 

“The doctor says I might be able to go home in another week,” Walt said. “Can you believe it?”

Matthew gave him a high-five. “I'm being sprung tomorrow.”

It was almost over. At least for Matthew. Though his spare kidney was already hard at work inside Walt, apparently the transplant recipient had a lot more danger signs to watch for than the donor, because of possible infections or organ rejection.

Matthew turned to Becca, whose hand he was holding. She'd been accompanying him on his walks around the hospital since the first day after surgery, when he'd been surprised to be rousted out of bed by the nurses.

“What do you think?” he asked her. “Would now be too early to set a date?”

They had avoided talking about getting married until the ordeal was over. He hadn't wanted there to be any misplaced feeling of obligation on her part. But now he was impatient for the rest of their lives to get started.

She smiled at him. “What is it about hospitals that makes you so matrimonially minded?”

He pressed his lips to her temple. “The sweet scent of rubbing alcohol. It does something to me.”

Walt smiled at them. “You two are finally getting married?”

“Didn't you know?” Becca asked. “Matthew's reason for giving you a kidney was to keep you alive so you could walk me down the aisle.”

Walt beamed. “I'd be delighted.”

A duo of nurses came in and clustered around Walt. “We need to take your vitals and change your IV, Mr. Johnson.”

“Okay,” he said amiably.

“I'll be back this evening,” Becca promised him.

Walt flicked an anxious glance at Matthew. “Walt and I are watching TV tonight,” Matthew informed her.

One of the nurses laughed. “Thursday night—we can't miss
Celebrities in Peril!.
” She winked at Becca. “That Abby! She's such a witch. I can't wait till someone sticks her on a plane and flies her off.”

Becca laughed. “Okay. I'll come by and we can all watch together. Is that okay?”

Walt nodded. “Sure, but no spoilers.”

“Don't worry—I'm legally forbidden from blabbing,” she told him. “Call me at the shop if you need anything. I'm going to be there this afternoon.”

“Don't worry about me. I'm getting four-star service.”

Out in the hallway, Matthew said, “Your dad is the ideal patient.”

“Right. Because he doesn't want to be any trouble.”

They strolled the unit until they came to an atrium at the end of the hallway. Sunlight beamed through high windows. “I was thinking,” Matthew said, “that maybe Walt can stay on at your place, and we can find a house in Leesburg, closer to your shop.” Since coming back from Alaska, Becca had been living at the town house. Her healing leg made her apartment stairs difficult to maneuver. She'd been off the crutches for months now, but the truth was, they liked living together. Besides, Walt was enjoying the apartment above the shop. If she moved back into it, they would have to figure out where to put him.

“A house,” she repeated.

“Hopefully with a little more charm than the town house.”

“Pam will be so excited,” Becca said. “She loves helping people house-hunt. And Erin could help me fix up a new place.”

“There,” Matthew said. “If it would make Pam and Erin happy, we should definitely start looking right away.” He was only half-joking, actually. He liked Erin and Pam—and since Cal was so nice, not to mention laid-back, Matthew was even getting used to the idea of hanging out with his future wife's ex-husband.

“Is this really going to work out?” Becca shook her head in wonder. “It all felt so insurmountable when we started. There was Alaska and two operations to get through. And before that, you were still with Nicole. I can't believe no one's going to come pull the plug on all our happiness.”

“It's not television. You don't have to face cancellation.”

She laughed. “Or turn in my torch?”

He squeezed her hand. He didn't care if they were in a hospital. When he was with her, there was nowhere else he'd rather be. “As far as I'm concerned, you can consider it an eternal flame.”

 

“Becca!”

As she was getting out of her car in front of the Strawberry Cake Shop, Becca saw Olivia running toward her. She skidded to a stop inches from Becca.

“I thought I'd missed you,” she said, panting. “I wanted to give you this.” She held out a framed eight-by-ten picture of herself sitting atop Ripples, the sweet pinto gelding they'd found at a Maryland farm in February. Ripples now lived at Butternut Knoll, where Olivia was a regular.

“Great picture,” Becca said. “I'll put it in a place of honor on the cake shop wall.”

Olivia seemed pleased, but then her expression sobered. “Is Walt okay? And Matthew?”

Becca squeezed her shoulder. “They're both doing good. Matthew's going to be out tomorrow. Maybe when he gets a little better, we can get started on our secret project.”

Their secret project was to turn Matthew into a horseman. So far he had resisted the equine dark side, but they had high hopes for the summer.

Olivia cut a glance down the street, to an idling SUV. “Mom's waiting for me,” she said. “I've got to go. I'll see you at Butternut Knoll!”

Becca waved her off and went inside. The cake shop was crowded. Customers new and old had flocked to the store since the show started airing. On the way to the register, Becca signed two Strawberry Cake Shop bags, and one T
INA
T
HINKS
Y
OU
S
HOULD
G
ET A
L
IFE
tee. People loved the shirts, and seemed to consider them a hilarious homage to her television career. Apparently there really was no bad publicity.

Even Gecko Girl had reached out to her since
Celebrities in Peril!
had begun, and told her that she was rooting for her. Time and T-shirt sales had softened her feelings toward Becca's earlier snub.

A publisher had approached Becca about writing a book about her experiences, especially having Walt find her. Eight months ago, the idea of penning a celeb autobiography would have made her howl with laughter, but writing about Walt and the transplant experience actually appealed to her, so she was mulling over the offer. It helped that Erin had become such a great assistant at the shop. If business stayed robust after the madness of the
Celebrities in Peril!
broadcast was over, they might even be able to open a second shop in another town.

But that was jumping ahead. Right now she was just happy to have lots of customers, and to see Pam and Erin both there. Becca hurried over to take Pam's place. “Thank you so much for helping. You don't have to, you know.”

“I was just in the neighborhood. I've already done the kid pickup.”

Pam was in charge of Butternut Knoll's afterschool shuttle. Becca suspected Pam was actually in charge of everything, but Cal hadn't realized it yet.

“How are the sickos?” Pam asked.

“Better every day. The doctors say—” Becca did a double-take, noting the way Pam was jutting out her left arm, the hand poised artfully. A diamond winked from the third finger. Becca yelped in surprise, then hurried closer to inspect the ring. “Congratulations! When did all this happen?”

Pam posed the hand like a professional model, milking the moment. “Cal gave it to me this morning. There was a ring box next to the toaster.”

Becca clucked. “That sounds like something he'd do.”

“Right,” Pam said. “And I was ready to stomp out because he woke me up to tell me he was hungry and would I make him some breakfast.”

“The engagement was nearly toast,” Erin said. Everyone in hearing distance, even customers, groaned.

Becca admired Pam's ring some more. “It's gorgeous.”

“They're thinking of a July fourth weekend wedding,” Erin said.

Pam nodded. “Cal wants a wedding at Butternut Knoll, with fireworks.” Her brow wrinkled. “In fact, I think the fireworks might be the biggest attraction for him.”

Becca laughed. “I doubt that.”

Pam looked from Becca and Erin and back again. “There's going to have to be another quirk, besides the fireworks. Two maids of honor.”

Becca and Erin grinned. “And your maids of honor will also be doing the cake,” Becca told her.

“I was counting on it,” Pam said.

Becca had to help Erin tend to customers, but she asked Pam to come back later so the three of them could toast the engagement. This called for an extra-special Not-Book-Club. They agreed to meet up at Becca's after Becca got back from visiting Walt and Matthew in the hospital.

Erin nodded to the photo of Olivia and Ripples. “Cute! New picture for the wall?”

“I need to find a good spot for it,” Becca said.

Becca looked at the picture again, and felt as if Olivia's huge smile had taken up residence in her heart. She hadn't wanted to steal Pam's thunder by telling everyone that she and Matthew were going to be tying the knot themselves soon, and that her father would be giving her away. One engagement at a time was plenty. Besides, there was something delicious about holding in all this happiness, all this hope.

The moment reminded her of standing over one of those strawberry cakes her mother used to make for her birthday. Hovering over those blazing candles each year, breath held, head full of wishes, all things had seemed possible. And even if every wish didn't come true, there was always the cake itself. As long as there was cake, life was good.