Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Aria
I stayed on my tiptoes to see past the lettering on my front window. The man’s massively broad shoulders were slightly hunched, and his head was down as he walked toward the bus stop. I pressed my hand to quiet a rumble in my chest. It seemed I’d had way too much coffee this morning. After assuring myself I wasn’t having a heart attack, I took one last glance at the stranger. He leaned against the side of the bus shelter, scrolling through his phone. This morning, his long hair had been inky black with seawater. It had dried into a thick, wavy mass. He was certainly a sight to see, but I’d be just as glad to see him leave. There was something unsettling about him, something I couldn’t put my finger on, but there was definitely something. I was sure he was only stopping in Whisper Cove for a short time.
An urgent knock rattled the door before I made it back to the kitchen. I spun around and saw Isla’s pretty face peering in through the window. She knocked again, urgently. Urgent knocking wasn’t really Isla’s style—it was Layla’s style. Layla was our drama queen. She could turn a broken shoe heel or a cancelled dinner date into a major traumatic incident.
Isla was a year younger than me, and she always had her feet on the ground. She did, however, occasionally float around with stars in her eyes, but that was only because she’d found the most charming, wonderful and extremely rich boyfriend. We were all crazy about Luke Greyson. He was Isla’s Prince Charming, and he fit the part in every possible way.
Cold air rushed in behind my fast-moving sister. My middle sister, Ella, strolled in behind her and sent me a secret eye roll to prepare me for a tirade. Isla didn’t have them often, so I knew something big was up.
Isla marched straight through to the coffeepot. “Thank goodness you have coffee brewed.” She plucked a cup out from under the counter and proceeded to pour herself coffee. “I can’t believe this is happening. I mean who would have thought—it can’t be—everyone knows that empty bakery was meant to be a bakery. Not a tax accountant’s office.” She sipped the coffee aggressively, as if it would help to make things right.
I looked to Ella for an explanation because it seemed my usually reasonable and easy-to-understand sister, Isla, was not herself this morning.
“Isla and I went to talk to the realtor who’s handling the empty bakery lease,” Ella started.
“I finally have enough for the deposit and the first six months. That was all they required,” Isla said between fervent sips. Isla’s dream had been to open a bakery at the end of town. The shop had always been a bakery under a variety of owners, some successful and some most definitely not. Isla was a talented baker, and the town was waiting eagerly for her to fill the shop windows with her sweet and sumptuous delights.
“Well, that’s good, right?” I asked, apparently still behind on what this rant was about.
“Someone beat her to it.” Ella stepped over to the coffeepot and poured herself a cup. She seemed to enjoy being the calm, cool-headed sister this morning, a job that usually fell to me and Isla. Right then, her phone beeped. She put down the coffee and pulled out the phone.
I turned my attention back to Isla. She’d sat down on a counter stool to finish her coffee. “Can you believe it, Ar? Some tax accountant swept in with a deposit and twelve months rent. The realtor said the contract would be signed later today. The only way I can have the spot is if I buy the building outright.” She laughed. “Sure, when pigs fly.”
I sat on the next stool. Ella was furiously sending off a text. So much for her position as the calm, cool-headed sister this morning.
“Continuing with the improbable animal analogies, I’d like to point out the elephant in the room that could very easily put wings on that pig.” I started. “Luke has offered to buy that building for you. Why don’t you swallow your pride and take him up on his offer? It would make him happy, and it would solve the entire problem.”
“I know. He’s such a sweetie. But I told him I wanted to do this on my own. This is my dream, and when I finally open those doors, I want to be able to say to myself ‘Isla, you did it.’”
“But you’ll be responsible for everything else. You can use the money you saved to buy the ovens and equipment. You’ll be able to open those doors sooner.”
“Well, that’s it.” Ella smacked her phone down. “I’m a complete failure as a writer. The agent said the publisher didn’t want to see the rest of the chapters. They thought the first three were too meandering and the voice was too pithy . My writing isn’t pithy, and if it was—is that necessarily a bad thing? Apparently, it is, and so I will now start looking for a real job. I saw the drugstore needed someone to stock shelves. Perfect for me because I won’t have to do any thinking for that job.” Now it was Ella’s turn to guzzle coffee.
“Surely there are other publishers to try,” Isla suggested. Ella’s turmoil had now replaced her own. “How could I possibly accept Luke’s offer?” In a whiplash move, Isla was back to her own turmoil. “I’ve told him ‘no’ so often, but now, I fear that without his help, I’ll lose the shop for good.”
“I mean here’s the definition for pithy.” Ella was scrolling through her phone. “Concise and forcefully expressive.” She looked up. “What’s wrong with that? Should I be un-concise? And how can I be both meandering and pithy?”
I looked at Isla for support, but she was deep in thought, contemplating her own problems. When our wonderful Nonna was in the hospital, enjoying her last few days in this world, she called each of us in, one at a time, for a chat. None of us ever spoke about those last words to each other. We all carried them deep in our hearts. They were personal and unique. Nonna had used her last precious breaths and bouts of wisdom to make sure she let each of us know how much she loved us and how to carry on without her. Her words to me were exactly what I expected: “Aria, my solid, smart girl, you’ve been burdened with being the oldest, and your sisters will count on you even more after I’m gone. I can leave this place much easier knowing that you will be there to guide them.” Nonna was weak and drowsy and barely hanging on at that moment. She had no idea just how heavy those words were to me. I’d suddenly been left with the role of parent, guardian and protector for four younger sisters. I left the hospital room shaken and terrified that I wasn’t up to it. And one question kept circling my head for days, weeks and years afterward—who’d watch over me ?
I glanced at both my sisters, equally pretty and smart and determined in their own ways, and both still counting far too much on their older sister for advice. “Isla, you can always give up on this particular shop and find another one. Of course, as you mentioned, that shop space is literally meant to be a bakery, and it’s got a great position in town, so you’d almost be guaranteed success. Or you can push aside that Lovely family pride and accept Luke’s generous offer to buy the building. It’ll help him feel like he’s part of your dream, and that can only make your relationship stronger.” I turned to Ella. She was still apparently torturing herself with the text her agent sent. “And El, you’re a good writer and you know it, and more importantly, you love it. Every great author has been rejected, so you’re in good company. You can either keep at it or hang up your writer’s cap and find a job in the real world. Though you might be somewhat overqualified for stocking shelves. You’ve got a degree. You could teach.” Ella crinkled her nose at that suggestion. “Then keep going. And there—the wise woman has given all the nuggets of advice she cares to share this morning.”
“On to more interesting things,” Ella said. She knew darn well she had no intention of quitting her writing. “There was a mysterious and menacing man at the bus stop. Very handsome too, right?” she asked Isla to confirm.
“Yeah, he was pretty spectacular. I wonder if he’s just passing through,” Isla said. “He looks like someone who trouble follows, so it’s probably for the best.”
Ella laughed. “Where’s your sense of adventure, old woman? A new stranger in town might be just what we need to get through this gloomy season.”
“Not sure if this town needs a new stranger, no matter how good-looking,” I said the last part more to myself. I picked up a cloth to wipe down the counter.
“What happened to your hand?” Isla asked.
“Oh this? Funny you should ask.” The farther I got from the incident, the more comical it became in my mind. “I had a fight with a gull and I lost.” Both my sisters instantly shook off their own problems and came together with looks of concern. It was what I loved about my sisters and one of the main reasons I held onto my sometimes unwanted position of guardian and problem solver. No matter what happened, no matter how many arguments we had, we were always there for each other. We always had each other’s backs—so much so, it often seemed that when one sister was in trouble or sad, the others could sense it without even talking to them.
Isla gently held my fingers, and for a second, my mind shot back to the few moments when the man took hold of my wrist and the worried expression that came with it. “A gull attacked you? Where were you?”
“It’s nothing really, and in the gull’s defense, I was carrying a tuna sandwich, so it was my fault for being so provocatively armed. But the worst part was when?—”
Ella’s phone rang. She glanced at it. “I’ve got to take this. It’s my agent.” She added an eye roll as she walked outside to take the call.
“What was the worst part?” Isla asked. Her phone rang next. She huffed at the intrusion but pulled out her phone anyway. The glowing pink blush and smile assured me Luke was on the other end of the call. She gave me an apologetic grin.
“Go on, answer it. And think about what I said. Otherwise, start looking for a different location.”
“Hey, Luke,” she said as she walked out.
They both held their phones and continued their conversations as they headed back toward the cottage, the small, quirky home with the amazing ocean view we inherited from Nonna.
“And the worst part was when I fell in the water,” I continued to the empty diner. “But that mysterious stranger you were ogling—he helped me out of the water. Of course, it was his gull, but that’s beside the point. Did I mention he was, indeed, devastatingly handsome? The man, not the gull. But don’t worry, I probably won’t come down with pneumonia, and I’ll still have to cook tomorrow, all while running this whole wonderful establishment.” I laughed to myself.
Most of the time, we had each other’s backs.