7. Alexandra
seven
After showering in Christopher’s bathroom, I quickly dry my hair, tie it in a braid, throw on a pair of jeans and a sweater, and grab my puffer jacket, a hat, and gloves.
The bakery smells heavenly, and my stomach growls as I hurry down the stairs. The low hum of conversations grows, then Skye’s voice pipes before I can see her, “That’s her! That’s Alek-zandra!”
And the bakery goes dead silent.
The customers lined up at the register turn their backs to the counter and face me. Most are smiling. Some are plain gaping. Skye is beaming.
A young woman crouched in front of her stands to greet me, pulling me out of my stunned freeze. “I’m Grace,” she says, extending her hand. She has Skye and Christopher’s jet-black, curly hair, and her dark irises seem to dance with her smile. Her handshake is soft and firm and short. “Let’s get you outta here,” she says with a side glance to the line of customers, and a giggle.
Skye grabs my hand. I wave faintly to the customers and am rewarded with full-on smiles.
Once outside, I shiver, more from sheer pleasure than from the cold. Sometime overnight it must have snowed again. A pure white layer covers the street, and the sun now glistens over the village. I squint while Grace pulls out a pair of sunglasses.
She shakes her head. “Sorry about the welcome committee,” she says as we step onto the sidewalk.
I chuckle. “That was actually cute.”
Skye trails her mittened hand alongside a white picket fence, gathering snow in her little fist, then throwing it in the air. Tree branches trimmed with white powder, hang low over the sidewalk. The few cars out this morning tread slowly on the unplowed street.
“Christopher says you drove in last night? How were the roads?”
Dark and slick.I shrug. “I made it.”
Grace eyes me sideways with a grin. “What kinda car you have?”
“A rental,” is my answer. I don’t know anything about cars. “Which I need to return. It’s costing me a fortune.”
“Ah. I’ll ask my brother to return it for you.”
Um…“That’s not nec—”
“He’s a mechanic,” she adds as if that was explanation enough. “He loves cars. You’ll be doing him a favor. He’s always looking for an excuse to drive around.”
Well, then.That settles it.
As we reach the school, Skye lets go of Grace’s hand. “Caroline!” she calls as she runs to meet a little girl bundled in a light pink coat with matching boots. Caroline is holding the hand of a woman tightly wrapped in a sleek, black puff coat who appears to be her mother.
Despite the frigid temperature, the cold doesn’t seem to bother Caroline’s mother. She’s not wearing a hat, and her beautiful blond curls bounce freely around her shoulders, while her breath escapes her plump, pink lips in cute little puffs as she exhales and smiles our way. “Hey, girl,” she says, giving Grace a quick side hug while she glances at me. “I’m Emma,” she adds and extends her hand to me.
“Alex. I’m apprenticing at the bakery.” I try not to flinch at the strong grip she has on my hand.
“So I’ve heard. Are you staying with Grace, then?” she says, finally releasing my hand.
“No—I’m... I’m staying at the bakery.”
“So it’s true.” She squints. “Well I guess… Welcome to Emerald Creek?”
“Thanks.” I turn my attention to Skye entering the school with her friend. At the last minute, she turns around and waves at me. “Bye, Alek-zandra!” she says at the top of her lungs, a huge, gap-toothed smile lighting her entire face.
I blow her a kiss back. “Wow, she likes you already,” Emma says.
“Let’s take the long way back,” Grace says, looping her arm in mine. “See you later, Ems.”
Tilting my head up, I’m taken by the brightness of the blue sky. Plumes of smoke billow from chimneys of the houses up on the hill. The cold air is crisp on my cheeks, the snow soft under my feet, and the faint smell of burning wood holds the promise of coziness and simple pleasures.
A smile forms on my lips. It won’t be hard to love my stay here. One slightly abrasive person won’t change that.
“I’m sorry about Emma,” Grace says once we’re out of earshot. “She seems to be having a bad day. She’s normally friendlier. She’s pretty protective of our little town, I suppose.”
“It’s alright,” I say. “She wasn’t rude or anything.” Just destroyed my hand. “I understand being guarded toward strangers. It’s probably even a good thing.”
“That’s not how we normally treat people here.” She chuckles. “Once you get to know her, she’s cool though. She became a CPA while raising Caroline on her own.”
“Wow.” That is pretty impressive. It doesn’t escape me that her situation seems to draw a lot of parallels with Christopher’s. And my mother’s. “I grew up in small town, raised by a single mom too. That ‘It takes a village’ saying was pretty real for me as a kid. I can see where she’s coming from.”
I snap a few pictures, admiring the contrast of the harmonies of white with the bright blue of the sky and the dark green of the trees.
“I thought you were from New York City?”
“Nope. As a kid, I grew up upstate. But it got messy after my mom died. I moved in with my grandmother, and she packed me off to boarding school.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “It was for the best. She had her own stuff going on. I don’t blame her. I’ve been living in the city since I graduated college, though.”
“I used to fantasize about going to boarding school,” she says, chuckling. “I bet it wasn’t as fun as it seems.”
Well, it wasn’t exactly camp, and also Mom would have never done that to me, so…“It was alright.” We reach the covered bridge, a long wooden structure with a red roof. “Is that the creek?” I ask, pointing under our feet to the white, unmoving expanse. The bridge seems to be spanning a very flat ribbon of land.
“Yup. That’s the creek. It’s large around here, more like a river. It gets pretty big in the spring. But right now it’s frozen solid.” And covered in snow. There is no telling where the river stops and where the banks start. It’s all a white expanse shining under the sun as if a trail of diamonds had been scattered.
Once on the other side of the bridge, we walk uphill for a bit, and I slip a couple of times. “I’ll have to upgrade my boots,” I say chuckling and admiring Grace’s fur-lined, thick-soled footwear.
“Sure,” she says. “Let’s take you to the General Store.” We hang a left on a narrow road. The village lays across from us, brick federalist houses and white capes and colorful Victorian houses elbow to elbow, forming a charming and diverse picture. A woman shakes the snow off her trees and stops to wave at a man two houses down shoveling his portion of the sidewalk. I snap a few pictures again, then catch up with Grace. We take a second covered bridge back into town.
As Grace turns around to check on me, I take a photo of her, framed by the covered bridge, the village behind her, her sunglasses reflecting the snowy hill, and her deep red lips curved up in a smile.
“Now, I really know what a storybook village looks like,” I say as I close the gap between us and tuck my hands in my pockets. Taking my gloves off just a few moments to take pictures was enough to make my fingers numb with cold.
“Aww,” Grace says. “It is beautiful. I suppose we take it for granted most of the time.” We cross the bridge in silence, our feet loud on the wooden planks. “Did you have time for breakfast?” Grace asks.
“Uh… no, but I’m fine,” I lie.
“Tsk tsk tsk. Did Chris pull you out of bed this morning?”
I’m suddenly warmer. He nearly pulled me out of the shower and looked like he wanted to try my new vibrator on me. “No, I just… ran out of time.”
“Well, I could use a cup of coffee. Let’s grab something at the Easy’s and then we’ll hit the store for those boots.”
Easy Monday is a coffee shop that smells like a box of chocolates and a mug of coffee had a love baby named Cinnamon. My mouth waters and my nose tingles from the warmth inside. The space is large yet comfy, with shelves overflowing with books, board games stacked on the carpeted floor, and a hodgepodge of armchairs and couches and tattered coffee tables.
“Gracie! It’s been a hot minute,” a woman about our age says. She’s sitting in a deep couch, surrounded by colorful pillows. “And you brought our new resident with you.” The woman closes her book and smiles at me. “Welcome to Emerald Creek. I’m Autumn.” She stands, her beautiful red hair cascading on her shoulders, and a big smile and the cutest dimples illuminate her face. “I have to go, but I’ll catch up with you later.”
“My girls!” Another young woman says from behind the counter. “How can I make your day awesome?”
“That’s Millie,” Grace says to me as she drops her coat on the closest armchair.
Millie gives me a concerned smile. “Tea and honey for you, sweetie? I hear you’re sleeping in a drafty attic full of critters.”
I laugh. “The room is lovely, and tea and honey sound great. But this morning, I’ll just have your house coffee and a muffin,” I answer as I take my coat, gloves, and hat off.
“Just house coffee? And what kind of muffin?”
“Whatever’s most popular.”
“That would be the apple cider donut.”
My stomach growls. “Sounds amazing.”
A dreamy look plays on her face. “You have simple tastes for a big city girl.”
“How’d you know… never mind.” I smile.
“Same for me,” Grace says.
As we take our seats, she waves at Autumn through the window. “Autumn’s family owns the antique shop, and she’s trying to make it as a decorator. It doesn’t pay the bills yet, but we all have faith in her.” As Autumn saunters away, her smile stays with me. People seem genuinely happy here. And why wouldn’t they be? Beautiful nature, lovely friends, low stress, as far as I can see. Winning combination.
After we’re settled with our coffees for hand warmers, Grace says, “You must be a tough cookie if Chris took you on as an apprentice.”
How do I answer her? “I don’t know about that.”
“He doesn’t accept just anyone,” she presses on.
Despite what Christopher said last night, I know I won’t become a baker. At least not how Christopher means it. I don’t want to lie about that.
“It all happened really fast. I was told I had to take the apprenticeship to keep my job.” It’s only a half-truth. I hate lying, but I need to remind myself that I can’t chance Christopher finding out I’m Red Barn’s next owner once I succeed in this apprenticeship. He’d cancel the apprenticeship, and that would mean losing Red Barn. Rita’s wishes matter to me right now. They’re the one thing that tie me to family. “I’m not sure I’m up to his expectations, to be honest.”
“Don’t let his grumpy ways get to you,” Grace says. “He asks a lot of his staff, but he’s a softy inside. Just don’t let him walk all over you.”
Millie sets two huge, dark-colored donuts in front of us. “A softy? I heard there’s mice nesting in her bed.”
I giggle. I love how she mingles uninvited in the conversation.
“A little late for not being walked all over,” she adds.
Unsure how to answer that, I take a bite of the donut, and oh my god. I have to close my eyes.
I moan.
“Unh-huh,” Millie says as she sways away.
“He makes those, by the way,” Grace says.
I open my eyes, blinking at her. Of course he does, he owns the bakery. These donuts are insane. His cooking last night was heaven. His body is a dream. And don’t get me started on his eyes.
Grace chuckles. “Yup,” she says as if she can read right through me. “I’ll be right back,” she adds, heading for the bathroom and sparing me the embarrassment of being so obviously smitten with her cousin.
I shake away the thoughts. I can’t be crushing on my boss. That would be a really bad idea. The worst. I give myself ten seconds to be back to who I am. Alexandra Pierce, potential heir to Red Barn Baking, here to fulfill her grandmother’s dying wish.
A girl on a mission.
Eyes on the prize: passing a baking exam.
And nothing else.
I count back from ten.
I think I’m good now.
While Grace is away, I log into the wi-fi and send Sarah the photos I took. I can’t wait to share my excitement with her.
Sarah
Welcome to my storybook village. [4 attachments]
So jealous. When can I visit?
I respond with a smiley and shut down my phone as Grace comes back from the bathroom.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Just making my friend jealous.”
She laughs. “I bet you have a lot of friends in the city.”
Nope. Once people know who I am, they either hate my guts or try to take advantage of me. “What makes you think that?”
She shrugs like it’s obvious. “You’re just so likeable.”
“That’s very nice of you to say. But actually, people are super busy in the city. Always running somewhere. It’s hard to make friends.”
“Huh. Well, we have nowhere to run to. Everything we need is right here! Ready for those new boots?”
A huge smile stretches across my face. “Always ready for new boots.” We bundle up and head out.
The General Store delivers on the promise of its name. Behind a cute but unassuming entrance on Maple Street, it goes on and on, with a basement level and an upper level, and sells pretty much anything you didn’t know you needed.
“Thank you so much for doing this for me,” I say as I slip on a pair of Sorels and compare them to the Helly Hansens I just had on.
“No problem. This is fun,” Grace says as she tries on fur-lined slippers.
I make my selection, and my eyes fall on the cutest pair of Darn Tough socks—dark green with blue deer. I place them on top of the boots I chose—tall with crisscross laces and light fur lining. “Let’s go or I’ll keep buying stuff,” I say, giggling. “Actually, hold on.” I put on the boots I’m buying and place mine in the box. “This will be more comfortable.”
As we make our way back to the front of the store, we pass a small room to the side, lined with wine bottles on racks. I hop inside and grab a bottle of white wine to bring back home. I’m not sure what the apprenticeship deal is in terms of food, but common sense tells me it doesn’t cover booze.
“At least my hands are full now. I can’t buy anything else,” I say as we head to the register. “Actually. Hold it.” There’s a rack of sunglasses, and one of them has my name on it.
“Did you want to look up our mouse traps?” The cashier, an older man in blue coveralls, says when we finally get to him with my boots, my socks, my booze, and my sunglasses. “We have humane ones. Thought a city girl like you might appreciate that. But then again, they might not be enough for the rats you’re dealing with. We got pretty much every this and that in terms of traps.”
Grace is shaking with restrained laughter.
“I’m… I’m fine. I promise there are no mice, or rats, in my bedroom. Totally fine. Scout’s honor. Thanks, though.”
When we step out, I have to ask. “What’s with all that? Is that some kind of prank they play on newcomers?”
Grace checks her phone and giggles. “It’s Echoes. It’s a closed social media group, just for Emerald Creek, where people post stuff they’re selling, or if they need help with anything. Or whatever complaints they have.”
“Lemme guess—it’s every gossip’s dream.”
“You guessed right. The thing is, that’s where all the important notices are posted, so we all go there, and we all read it every morning. It’s our newspaper. For the people and By the people, sort of. It has all the trivia you need to survive life in this small town. If the library is closing early. If the General Store is having a sale. If there’s going to be construction on the one road that goes in and out of Emerald Creek. That’s where it’s posted.”
“If the baker just got a new apprentice,” I suggest.
“And that she’s sleeping in an attic.”
“It’s not an attic! It’s the cutest room I’ve ever had.” Am I feeling oddly protective of Christopher? The way he felt embarrassed last night comes back to my mind. “You should see some of the places I lived in when I just graduated college.” Honestly, I don’t know what all the fuss is about regarding that supposed attic. “Plus, his cooking is heavenly.”
Grace quirks an eyebrow up and cracks a huge smile at me. I blush as I realize I just defended Christopher when we were just talking about a room. She bumps my shoulder and laughs. “My cousin’s the best,” she confirms.
I look down and bite my lip, but I know we just had a moment.
And it feels great.
“Come on, I have time to show you my salon before my first client,” Grace says.
“Sweet.” I’m going to milk every minute of my day off.
There’s a gentle breeze when we’re back on the street. As we walk past the bakery, the wind picks up and light snow blows up and around us, enveloping us and reflecting the sun. It’s so magically beautiful, I stop in my tracks, set my bags in the snow, and pull my phone out, taking a selfie video while I twirl around, my eyes closed. “It’s… it’s like I’m in a snow globe!”
My mouth is open in awe, but not for long. A snowball hits my teeth lightly, shocking me back to reality. Grace is bent at the waist laughing. “Did you just…?”
She wipes the tears from her eyes and pulls my arm. “Let’s go.”
“Can I just drop my bags?”
“Nope. Chris might drag you to work if you go in there. Plus, I’m just a block away. Over there is Lazy’s.” She points across The Green, to a pub that seems closed right now. “Justin, the owner, opens around noon, most days. Depends. It’s a fun place. Actually, do you have plans for tonight?”
Apart from feeling awkward if I’m having dinner with Christopher and Skye? “Nope. No plans.”
“Alright then. Let’s meet there around five, five-thirty. You’ll love it. And this is me!” She stops in front of a two-story brick house with white columns. Wreaths hang on each of the windows, and a large Christmas swag adorns the stained-glass front door. Lights gently flicker on the window boxes filled with pinecones and greenery.
We take our boots off and Grace flicks the recessed lighting on, then lights scented candles. A subtle cedar and spice fragrance warms the atmosphere. Soon, accents of acoustic guitar flow softly from hidden speakers.
The wooden floors creak under my feet as I make my way through the airy space. Blond leather armchairs strewn with cashmere throws are scattered throughout. Side tables laden with magazines are an invitation to just sit and relax. “I’d come here just for the wait,” I tell Grace, running my hand over the soft velvet of a wingback chair. It’s set next to a simple pine buffet transformed into a coffee and tea station, complete with a Keurig machine, a kettle, and an assortment of organic loose-leaf teas. On a shelf above, a hodgepodge of artisan-made mugs in earth tones are next to a neat pile of red flannel tea towels.
I pull my phone out and take photos of the many details that make me want to just spend the day there getting pampered. I spot her social media handles on a discreet sign, and my instincts kick in.
“Should we remove those for you before you start work?” Grace asks, pointing at my nails.
I look at the gel manicure I had done two weeks ago. Before Rita passed away. Since then, my life has been turned upside down.
“I haven’t thought about that. Should I?” I answer while posting and tagging the brands she uses.
She shrugs. “You’re the baker.”
“Ugh—not. I guess I should? Yeah. Tells you how unprepared I am.”
“So, this apprenticeship wasn’t… really planned?” she says as we sit at the nail station, and she soaks my fingers.
Not by me. “Yeah, no.” I sigh. The soft music and warm scents are getting to me, making my eyelids heavy. I yawn.
“That mountain air making you tired already?” she teases.
“I’ve had a rough week.”
She tilts her head, ready to listen, but not prying.
“My grandmother died a week ago.” Coldness settles at the pit of my stomach. “She was the only family I had.”
She pauses her scraping of my nails. “Oh… I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”
“We weren’t that close, but still. It’s just me, now.” I don’t miss Rita. I miss having a family, any family. Someone to call my own, however messed up they might be. “And now, my job is turning from being a marketing geek to becoming a baker.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “That’s a lot! Like I said, don’t let Chris overwork you. He does that to people. You need to focus on yourself. Get grounded again.” She’s almost done with my nails. “Tell you what. I’m working on becoming a massage therapist—”
“Oh, that’s exciting!”
“—so I’ll use you as a guinea pig. How’s that?”
“Fantastic. And I can help with your social media, if you need it.”
“Yes, please! Now, let me roll up your sleeves,” she says, then massages my hands with a lotion that smells heavenly.
“Have you lived in Emerald Creek all your life?” I ask her.
“Mostly. I lived in Texas for a little while, when I was married. Then, after my divorce, I came back here.”
“Oh, I’m s—”
“Nothing to be sorry about. We all make mistakes, don’t we?” She flexes my fingers back, giving me a relaxing hand stretch. “I like it here,” she says, looking out the window. “It’s home, you know? My mom lives outside the village, my brother is up the road, Chris and Skye are right here, and the people of Emerald Creek are good people. That’s all I really need,” she says with a soft smile.
There has to be more to her story, but I’m not going to ask. The truth is, she does seem at peace and fulfilled. Something I will probably never experience. “I have to say, it must be wonderful to be able to build a life here.”
“It is. Who knows? Maybe you’ll stay,” she says lightly.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t. I need to get back to New York.”
“Of course. Do you like it over there?”
I hate it over there.“It’s—It’s complicated.”
She rolls my sleeves down. “I’m sure.”
“You have your family here.”
“You’ll find yours. Sometimes, the strongest families are those you choose, not those you were born into,” she says.
I think about this for a bit. If I weren’t the kind of person who constantly attracted disaster, I would probably yearn for a solid relationship. Marriage. Children. Being part of my spouse’s family. My heart tightens. “The company I work for in New York, it’s like a big family.” I’ve repeated this mantra—one of Rita’s mantras—often, believing it wholeheartedly. But, somehow, it feels a bit odd today.
Grace smiles softly, pretending to go along with my answer. People who have a family don’t understand people like me, and it’s okay. I’m used to that. I just don’t have the words or energy to explain that, when you can’t have the thing you want most, you just make up a substitute for it.
I pull out my phone and take close-up photos of Grace as she cleans the nail station. “You look so much like Skye, you could be her mother.”
“Mm,” Grace says, her gaze darkening as she stands.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s all right. Skye doesn’t have a mother,” she says, confirming what Skye said last night. “It’s a touchy subject, mainly for Chris. I think he struggles with how to protect her from the pain.” She runs her hand through her hair. “I’m around as much as I can, but it’s not the same. There’s going to be a day when she asks why. And, deep down, she has to know that her mother didn’t want her, you know? It’s not like she died tragically or anything.”
She doesn’t tell me what happened, and although I’m burning to know, I don’t ask. I’ve been here less than twenty-four hours, and she’s opening up about family secrets already. Just like Christopher and Skye last night. When was the last time someone opened up to me?
“He takes her to therapy,” she continues as we make our way toward the front of the salon. “She’ll be okay. She’s already okay.” Her eyes narrow on me, concern in her expression. “Chris, I’m not so sure. I worry about him, sometimes. He can be so tough on the outside, but inside, he’s all mush. You know how men are.”
“Not really.” I blush as I slip my coat on. She looks at me with curiosity. Although I hate to talk about myself, I can’t stay a closed book after everything she just unloaded on me. “No father, no brother, or even cousins. And I’ve never had a serious relationship. Don’t want one. It’s not in the cards for me.”
She seems amused. “Is that so?”
“Hundred percent.”
She looks at me differently, like I’m a mystery to her and she’s trying to figure me out, but at least she’s not trying to convince me that a man is the best thing that could ever happen to me. I suppose I can credit that to her divorce. It’s almost like I can hear Rita’s approval.
“You’re a good listener,” she says. A smile warms her features again. “That’s a rare thing.”
“I’m sorry if I appeared nosy… regarding Skye.” My cheeks heat up again. “It wasn’t my intention.”
“You’re not nosy, Alex. You’re caring. I can tell the difference. And I’m happy you’ll be staying with Chris and Skye for a while. Skye… she already likes you. And Chris? He needs to get out of his comfort zone.” She smiles mischievously at me as the doorbell chimes and her first client enters
The funny things happening in my stomach at her words need to stop.
Right. Now.