8. Cream Pies
Courtney
Shortly after the gift basket arrived, Elsie and I decided to call it a night. She wanted to walk home before nightfall, citing her fear of running into “the witch.” I was okay with ending our evening a bit short, considering that I now need to decode the meaning behind a certain welcome gift from a certain mayor. Is this as innocent a gift as it seems, or could this be his weird yet charming way of making a move?
Elsie had sworn up and down that the motive behind the gift was romantic in nature, his thinly veiled attempt obvious to even her. I had kept it cool, though, and argued that he was probably being overly gracious since I was the first person to move to Havenwood in over a decade.
Once Elsie is gone, I begin to unwrap the basket, my face turning crimson when I notice the potted flowers nestled amongst the other gifts. The flowers and chocolates hidden inside the basket hinted at an attempt at flirting but the “I Love Havenwood” mug is a safe scapegoat. If I were to question his motivations, he could argue that he’s genuinely just welcoming a new transplant to town; the romantic gesture behind flowers and chocolates being just a coincidence. A small part of me enjoys this little game, pretending he isn’t interested in me and just as I’m not interested in him. It keeps what I want a safe distance away, just out of my reach, and what I want is him.
Regardless of his true, unknown intentions, I appreciate the sentiment and I really like the chivalry behind giving a woman flowers and chocolates. When was the last time Carter had hand-picked a gift for me? Why am I comparing Mayor Abernathy to Carter? I shake my head, doing my best to fling the romantic thoughts straight out of my brain.
I end the confusing night by delivering some strawberries to the diva of a bat inhabiting my belfry, a peace offering to keep her quiet enough for me to get decent sleep tonight. However, my efforts are in vain, as I’m kept awake not by Olive but by thoughts of Finn Abernathy and his piercing blue eyes.
* * *
Still groggy and fuzzy-brained from lack of real rest, the sun streaming into my bedroom feels agonizing, refusing to let me fall back into a restless sleep. I climb out of bed, shielding my puffy eyes as I pull myself to my suitcase, fishing out a clean outfit to run in.
“This is getting ridiculous,” I complain to no one but myself, referring to my lack of curtains and a dresser. Living out of a suitcase was fun in college, but at 28, it’s just a reminder of my uncertainty.
I quickly dress myself and pull out my cellphone, locating the website of a nearby home goods store and placing an expensive order: a dresser, curtains, curtain rods, kitchen table, and chairs. They don’t have any attractive couches in stock, so I decide to hold off, my dwindling funds also playing a role in that decision. A couch, bed frame, and headboard will need to come next. Feeling satisfied with my purchases, I depart for my jog.
As soon as I step out onto my porch the chilly September air pinches at my skin, it carries the smell of freshly cut grass and wet pavement. It must’ve rained last night but the sun is out now, dutifully drying patches of light gray sidewalks. I decide that today I’m going to head towards the town square but take the long way around, approaching the shops from the opposite direction and staying far away from that creepy, old house.
I didn’t consider the fact that this route led me right by Agnes’ bakery; I’m only reminded when a delectable smell grabs onto my olfactory nerve with a strong grip, refusing to let go. Rather than fight to ignore the delicious aroma, I let it guide me straight to the bakery, a part of me hoping I’ll find Finn inside.
A familiar face smiles at me as I pull the front door closed behind me, the warmth of the bakery feeling like a hug from a grandmother.
“Hello, Courtney,” Agnes coos, removing a large tray from the oven.
“I was wondering when I’d see your pretty face in here again.”
“Hi Agnes,” I chirp back happily. “What’re you making? It smells amazing.”
“Sweet ham, jalapeno, and cream cheese danishes,” she calls as she sets the tray on the cooling rack and tucks her oven mitts into a drawer.
“Ring me up for two, please,” I say, fishing my card from my bra. Agnes chuckles at the sight, smile lines deepening at the corner of her eyes.
“You California folk are interesting. Six dollars,” She reads me the total before swiping my card and handing it back with a smile.
“How are you liking Havenwood?” She busies herself bagging two of the piping hot danishes, making sure to double bag them to avoid them burning me through the paper.
“I love it, I just ordered some furniture to make the rental feel more homey,” I confess, tucking a flyaway brown strand behind my ear.
“I honestly can’t believe more people don’t move here. It’s so quaint and charming.”
Agnes’ full lips curl into a sad smile as she slides the danishes across the counter, letting out a long breath as she leans against it.
“Most folks want to move to Salem for its morbid history or Nantucket for the beaches. Havenwood needs some sort of notoriety, something to pull people here.” She says distantly, a sad tone to her voice.
“It’s a hard thing to watch a place you’ve known and loved for so long slowly fizzle out of existence. Time is not forgiving.”
I nod in understanding, looking down at the counter, its top randomly decorated with speckles of flour. Havenwood needs a change, I can agree. My idea from earlier drifts across my mind as I regard the sweet old baker.
“There’s an empty store for rent a block from here. Elsie said it used to be a floral shop?” Agnes nods in recognition, eyeing me for a further explanation.
“I was thinking, maybe, just for the time being, while I’m here, I could rent the space out. I noticed Havenwood doesn’t have a bookstore. It’s always been a small dream of mine to own a bookstore.” Agnes’ dark eyes light up with amusement.
“That’d be something,” She says noncommittally, not seeming to believe I’ll carry out my vision fully.
“How long do you plan to stay in town? Opening a business is no small feat, believe me.” She raises her arm, the loose skin on her biceps jiggling as she gestures to the walls around us.
Before I get a chance to answer, the glass door to the shop opens, and we both turn to face the noise. Standing right in front of me is Finn, his blue eyes scanning my face as a look of surprise overtakes his sharp features. Sweat has glued his raven black hair to his forehead, causing it to look disheveled, a stark difference from the well-tamed vision it normally is. His pale cheeks are flush with swirls of crimson, and his built chest rises and falls in rhythm as he catches his breath; it appears that I’m not the only one out for a morning run.
“Courtney, hi.” He greats me breathlessly, running a hand into his hair in an attempt to style the wet strands. I give him a half smile and a wave. Don’t get too close, a voice inside me warns. Hadn’t I come here hoping to see him? I’m giving myself whiplash attempting to listen to the two warring halves inside of me. I ignore my inconsistencies and inwardly fawn over how attractive the mayor looks, soaked in sweat and out of breath. I wonder what it would look like to have him over me, breathing that hard, getting that sweaty…
“I haven’t seen you around. Thank you for the welcome basket, I hope you pay your secretary extra for after-hour errands.” I attempt to keep my tone casual, not wanting him to see how excited I am to see him. A confused look overtakes Finn’s face, his dark brows creasing as his icy eyes search mine.
“I don’t have a secretary?” He cocks his head slightly, attempting to understand. I open my mouth to question him but then it dawns on me that Finn must have hand-delivered that basket last night himself.
Shit, the realization sets a thousand butterflies loose in my stomach, all of which flutter up towards my throat, attempting to avoid the heat settling low in there with them. A smile almost bubbles to my surface but I quickly tamp it back down before it dares to show on my face. I need to get out of here. Seeing him is a mistake; each time I do it becomes more and more difficult for me to deny my attraction to him.
“Thank you for the danishes, Agnes. It was nice to see you, mayor.” I rattle off quickly, excusing myself from the counter stool I had perched myself on and B-lining for the exit. Finn doesn’t move as I near the door, forcing me to come face-to-face with him. As I near him, I can feel the heat from his body radiating on my skin, and suddenly, he is the sun pulling me into his orbit. For a beat I stand completely still, soaking in his warmth and the faint smell of cedar mixed in with sweat emanating from his pale skin.
“Elsie mentioned you have a leak under your kitchen sink. I could stop by later today and take a look at it for you.” Finn offers before I can remember how to form words and ask him to move. I give him a bewildered look as multiple questions fight for dominance in my head. What leak? How would Elsie even know if I have a leak? Do you want me on my knees or my back?
Noting my confused expression, he holds up a to-go coffee cup that I only just noticed he’s carrying. That explains when he spoke to Elsie but still leaves open the question of how she would even know about a leak. I don’t even know of any leaks; she certainly shouldn’t. Why wouldn’t she have disclosed it to me instead of Finn if she had discovered one? It makes no sense.
“I don’t have a leak,” I state firmly, squirming my way past him, out of the shop and onto the sidewalk outside. Thank God I’m wearing athletic wear because before I know it, I’m running away, my legs carrying me down the block and back towards my house without my brain telling them to do so. My legs might know what’s best for me but my vagina sure doesn’t, if I let her have her way Finn would’ve been receiving an invite back to my house to fix a different kind of leak.
Within minutes I’m through my front door and heading straight back to the kitchen. I toss Anges’ pastries onto the counter as I squat down to face the cabinet under the sink. My hands hesitate on the knobs, despite my brain demanding them to open it. After a brief second of conflict, I will them to move, throwing the small doors open. My eyes zone in on a small conjunction of water pooling on the trap pipe; once enough volume gathers, the water droplets dive off the pipe, splattering into a small puddle below it. A leak.
My jaw hangs open in disbelief. Is Finn some sort of witch? A wizard? Warlock? Whatever the hell you call them, somehow, this man knew about a leak inside a house he’d never been in! The nagging suspicion I dismissed last week begins to rebuild inside me. As I try to rationalize Finn’s knowledge of the leak, my phone begins to buzz in my sports bra. I pull it out, half expecting the screen to read Finn’s name despite me never giving him my number. Instead, Kashvi’s name and picture stare back at me.
“Hello?” I answer the call, still muddled from my discovery.
“Hey girl,” Kashvi’s valley girl accent brings a subconscious smile to my face. Only now, as I hear her voice, do I realize how much I miss my friend.
“How’re the cream pies?”
“I haven’t made it to Boston yet,” I inform her, running a hand into my hair.
“Not what I meant.” Kashvi giggles evilly. I scoff and attempt to think of a smart-ass response but fail to come up with one before she speaks again.
“This strike thing needs to end like yesterday. My bank account is looking rough.”
“You should try New England, it’s a lot more affordable. You could sublease one of my three bedrooms.” I tease, my eyes scanning the parts of the house I can see from my resting position against the kitchen counter. It all still seems too good to be true, which means it probably is.
“I wish,” she sighs. “I also wish I was smart like you and had a savings to fall on. Oh well, it looks like I’ll be groveling to Daddy for October’s rent.”
I laugh as I absentmindedly play with my hair. Kashvi comes from a wealthy family, and despite being strong and independent, she knows they will happily support her if she asks.
“Oh, by the way,” her voice drops to a more serious octave.
“Rumor is that Carter’s trying to wiggle his tight blond ass into a movie deal. A big one.”
I feel my lower eyelid twitch at the mention of his name, a reaction I’m not proud of but we just broke up a month ago for shit’s sake, of course, every little thing he does is still going to piss me off.
Even though I’d already heard about this movie role firsthand from the prick himself, hearing Kashvi mention it meant that production is moving along, and sooner than later, Carter will have his face on the big screen. Just like he always wanted. The thought of him being rewarded for his shitty behavior causes my knuckles to whiten around my phone.
My doorbell rings and I’m grateful for the excuse to stop this conversation about Carter.
“Hey Kashvi, someone’s at my door. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“So about those cream pies..”
I pad the red button to end our call before she can finish and make my way to the door. Instinctively I check the peephole, my heart jumping into my throat as I recognize the man on the other end. I sigh in defeat before I answer the door.
Finn Abernathy is standing on my porch, holding a tool kit and a small grin on his handsome face. I force my heart to give up its seat on my vocal cords long enough for me to speak.
“Mayor?” The one word comes out sounding a lot more sultry than intended and I’m suddenly aware of how this exact scenario has definitely played out on more than one porn website.
“I came to fix that leak,” he offers, motioning to his tool chest, his prop for gaining entry to my house. I take a deep breath, contemplating whether or not to let this man in. If I do, I’m resigning myself to admit I want him. If I don’t, I’ll be up all night regretting it.
“Come in.”