Chapter 23 Kairo
KAIRO
“This is my first bake sale!” A toothy grin smeared in icing stares up at me from about knee height, and a sticky, icing-covered fist seeks out my leg, which I avoid with a subtle sidestep.
“Mine too, kiddo,” I reply with a smile, peering down at the small child over the edge of my scarf.
He’s tucked into a puffer jacket so thick that he’s almost rotund. Both arms stick out in opposite directions and one good, strong gust of wind will surely send him rolling down the road like an escaped cranberry. “Are you lost?”
He nods, sticking his sticky fist into his mouth, and the excited spark in his eyes immediately dies. “Mommy said she’d come back.”
“Did she tell you to wait here?”
He shakes his head.
“Where did she tell you to wait?” I drop to my knees, ignoring how the bitter snow bites through my jeans, and become eye level with the child.
“Uhm…” As he licks his fingers, he gazes around at the sea of people swarming the bake sale.
Having never been to one, I had no idea what to expect and it’s far beyond anything I imagined over the past two days.
The bakery is the main hub, lit up like a Christmas tree with sparkling lights and tinsel wrapped around the sign and a beautiful, snowy display painted on the inside of the window.
When I arrived, Faith was painting the finishing touches to the Santa decal on the door, which remains permanently open as the bakery sale spills out into the street.
Tents and canopies line the bakery, which is adjacent to the cafe across the street.
The cafe also has its door open, providing customers with hot drinks while they browse the baked delicacies on display.
Devon and her family have really outdone themselves, and I can’t quite fathom how such a small team baked such an expansive list of desserts, cakes, and biscuits in such a short time.
My favorite stall is definitely the perishable stall where cream cakes stack over one another, teasing me with their snowy mountain peak designs.
“Hey.” Without touching him, I lean forward to get the child’s attention. “Where did your mommy ask you to wait?”
He turns back to me and his face immediately crumples. “I don’t know!”
His wailing starts soft, but it quickly pitches into a heartbroken realization that he has no idea where his mom is.
My heart clenches in my chest and as the crowd surges, I ignore his sticky hands and sweep him up into my arms.
He yelps but clutches at my scarf, sobbing openly.
“It’s okay, kiddo. We’re going to find your mommy, okay? Can you tell me your name? My name is Kairo.”
“Mmm…” He coughs and cries louder. “M–Maaaax!”
“Okay, Max. Do you wanna sit on my shoulders and see if you can spot your mommy? You’ll be really tall up there.”
He whimpers and cries, trying to muffle himself by sticking his fist in his mouth, but in the end he nods, so I sweep him higher up onto my broad shoulders while keeping a firm grasp on his legs.
“Right, let’s go find your mommy, Max. You just yell if you see her, okay?”
“…’kay,” comes his wobbly reply.
Up on my shoulders, he’s safe from being trampled.
I walk slowly through the stall, scanning every face for anyone who looks like a worried parent while texting Martin with one thumb.
He’s buried in the crowd somewhere, but if anyone can find a distraught mother, it’s him.
We walk past the chocolate fountain stall where kids shove fruit and marshmallows into deep pools of warm chocolate, the frosted stall where sugar cookies and icing-covered cornflake cakes sit on floral plates, and even the cotton candy stall where Hank, Devon’s father, whips up cotton candy animals at the drop of a hat.
“Do you see her?” I ask after one full loop of the bake sale.
Max just cries so I slip him down from my shoulders and bundle him into my scarf to keep him warm.
“It’s okay, kiddo. I’ve got a plan.” I head toward the bakery, and just as I reach the door, a distraught woman inside spins and spots me.
“Max!” She screeches so loudly that my ears ring, and she flies toward me while Max lunges forward in my arms.
“Mommy!”
They clash in a flurry of kisses and tears, and once I’m certain she has a secure hold on her child, I let him go.
“Oh, thank you!” She sinks to her knees, kissing his face all over. “Thank you, thank you!”
“It’s no problem,” I say with a warm smile. “It’s a busy street. It’s easy to get lost.”
“I just looked away to pay for his cupcakes and when I looked back, he was gone. I was so scared! Max, you don’t ever run away again, you hear me? You scared Mommy so much! Oh my God!”
She bundles him against her chest and stands, then flashes me a tearful, thankful smile. “Thank you!”
She’s out of the cafe before I can ask for my scarf back.
“Nicely done.” Devon appears at my elbow with flour dotting her nose and her scooped up hair rapidly losing all sense of direction from how she’s been running around all day.
My heart clenches at the sight of her and her smile, while beautiful, pains me.
She feels nothing for me.
And why should she?
I’ve been the bad guy for much longer than I’ve been the good guy. Her reasons are strong.
The bakery and her family come first.
But the disappointment inside me when she denied feelings for me was immeasurable and eye-opening.
I’d gotten ahead of myself, stolen kisses I had no right to. I lost myself in these warm, comforting feelings that rise when I’m with her, as if I even deserve to exist within her light.
“Just mark me the town hero,” I boast softly to cover up the ache in my chest that grows the longer she stands right next to me.
“It’ll make my stock prices soar.” As much as I crave more, I’m grateful.
When we first properly met, Devon definitely wouldn’t have stood right next to me like this.
Maybe that’s the real reward for whatever grew between us.
“I expect to see it all over the headlines tomorrow,” she teases, and she looks at me as if there’s more to say.
Unfortunately, an alarm deeper in the bakery takes her away with a rush and I return to my stall.
I text Martin to assure him the child has been returned to his mother and settle back into the flow of selling all the baked biscuits from my stall, only this time with a cold, bare neck.
Devon’s mother, Lindsey, circles past my stall a few times to make sure I’m doing okay, and while it’s difficult to face down such a crowd hungry for sweet treats, it’s fun.
I overhear so many excited conversations about Christmas, children eager for toys or games, a grandma excited that her family is flying out to see her for the first time in ten years, a man eager to spend his first Christmas with his newborn baby, a woman celebrating a new job opportunity, and several people eager for time off work.
There’s a sprinkling of sorrow amid the crowd, too.
Many lament about the closed-down stores along the block and how their darkened doorways make things feel less festive.
Some discuss where a few of the stores have moved to but lament that they’re now too far away to visit and wish them well.
Underneath the warm, festive spirit, my stomach churns as if the snow in the air is landing directly inside me.
I did this.
Those stores are my fault and it’s difficult not to feel guilty.
I only hope I was fast enough to save the bakery, or this street will be a corporate ghost town next Christmas.
By the time the bake sale draws to a close a little after eight at night, I’m exhausted but it’s a good kind of exhausted.
My muscles ache like I’ve overdone it at the gym, and my cheeks throb from how many smiles I was brought to in the face of the townsfolk eager to talk to a new face.
“You look like shit.” Martin snorts as he passes me a coffee.
“Fuck you.”
“Telling it like I see it.”
“Mmhmm.”
“You have a good time?”
“Yeah.” I slowly sip my drink. “I honestly did. Beats being in an office.”
“Look at you, shrugging off the corporate stink for a bake sale.” Martin laughs.
“You’re one to talk!” I point at the jingling antlers on top of his head. “You know what you look like?”
“Hey, I’m a jack of all trades, remember? I’m not locked into any mold.”
Kicking snow at him, I laugh. “Go get the car, jackass.”
“Yes, Boss.” He bows deeply and then smirks. “Hey, Devon.”
As Martin hurries away to fetch the car, I turn and greet Devon with a warm smile. “Hi.”
She squints slightly at the snow falling around us and smiles. “Hi.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Tired. It was a good day. A really good day. I think we made enough to cover a few outstanding bills, and the rest will go toward what we raised for the local school.”
“You were raising for the school?” I fail to keep the surprise out of my voice.
“Yeah. Did you think we were just doing this for us?”
I grimace and look at the slush-covered street now empty of all the stalls. “Kinda, yeah.”
“Wow. Ever the businessman,” Devon teases. “We were raising money for the school because the roof is busted. Each year, we usually do this for the school, but a few years ago, we did it to try and save the local library.”
“Did you?”
She shakes her head. “Unfortunately, no. But!” Her smile widens. “Today was great. What about you?” She nudges her elbow into me. “How did you find it?”
“Tiring, but in a way I haven’t felt in years. It was really fun. Humbling too.”
“How so?”
I grimace slightly. “Meeting the people Silver Canopy affects is almost painful. I recognized some names from documents I’ve read. It makes everything much more real.”
“Is that regret I hear?”
“A little.” I sip my coffee. “But I’m working on it.”
“Mmhmm. Speaking of, I have a meeting next week about the land deal. Is that uhm… is that something you need to attend?”
“I’d like to.” Our eyes meet, and I detect a hint of hope in them which appeals to the selfish need deep inside me to be near her.
“But it’s probably not a good idea. It would highlight a conflict of interest I’m trying to avoid.”
“Oh. Of course, that makes sense.”
Is that… disappointment in her eyes? Maybe I’m imagining it.
“Kairo!” Lindsey suddenly appears in the doorway to the bakery. “You were fantastic today!”
“Thank you very much.”
“So I’ll see you this weekend for Hank’s birthday, right?”
A birthday?
My attention darts to Devon, who watches me with pink spreading across her cheeks.
“You’re invited, it seems,” she says softly. “Are you going to come?”
My heart skips a beat.
“I’d be delighted.”