No Limos Allowed

Bagels of Wrath

Maisie

I returned from work at half past seven – the earliest I'd gotten home in days. I still had a full hour of sunlight left, and I felt nearly giddy – until I opened the front door and spotted Tessa sitting on the couch.

Correction. Stewing on the couch.

She didn't even look up when I walked in. She just sat there rigid and upright, with her arms crossed and a throw pillow jammed against her stomach like it was the only thing keeping her from flipping the coffee table.

I edged forward, speaking softly to avoid startling her. "Hey."

She gave me only the briefest glance. "Hey."

"Is something wrong?"

"No."

It was a blatant lie. Or maybe she didn't want to talk. I'd learned something during the past few weeks. Tessa had a lot of secrets . And she didn't like it when people pried.

I didn't want to be nosy, honest. But I couldn't help but recall how she'd listened to me go on and on about my troubles with the shop and how she'd insisted on making that homemade bread while I sat and watched.

For all she'd done over the past few days, the least I could do was remind her that she wasn't alone.

Today, timing was on my side. Having finished work earlier than expected, I'd stopped by the store for something in particular. As Tessa continued to stare ahead, I shrugged off my sling backpack and dug inside, finding the paper sack filled with something she might enjoy.

Bag in hand, I moved forward until I reached the couch. And then, I started pulling out tiny bottles of booze and setting them in a line on the coffee table in front of her. They were the same sort of single-serve varieties that Tessa had been giving me.

Tessa's mouth twitched. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

A corner of her mouth lifted. "Liar."

I grinned. "I know, right?" I gestured toward the bottles. "These are for you. I figured your supply had to be running low with how many I've been chugging."

Tessa reached for a little pink bottle and twisted it open. "Want to hear something funny?"

"Sure, what?"

She gave a weak laugh. "I've got like a million bottles left."

I couldn't help but stare. "No."

"Yes." But then she paused. "Okay, maybe not a million, but I've got a bunch."

My gaze strayed to the coffee table, where my small offering seemed kind of pathetic compared to a million. "Oh." I tried for a laugh. "I guess the last thing you need is more."

Her expression warmed. "Actually, I do – need them, I mean." She glanced toward the bottles. "Especially if I'm not drinking alone." Her voice turned hopeful. "You wanna join me?"

I smiled with relief. "Definitely." I sat down beside her. "Does this mean you want to talk about it?"

She hesitated. "I do, and I don't."

"Okay…" I reached for a random bottle. "So let's start with the part you do. What happened? Was it something at work?"

She made a face. "Yeah. A difficult customer." She said "difficult" like someone had taken a chainsaw to the espresso machine.

I asked. "Anyone I know?"

With a bitter laugh, she replied, "Let's hope not."

"What does that mean?"

She uncrossed her arms and launched into it. "So mid-afternoon, I'm doing my thing, right? Wiping down the counters, checking the pastry case, thinking that it's been a pretty good day. And then… he walks in."

I waited for her to elaborate. When she didn't, I asked, "He, who?"

She gave me a long sideways look. "Your new employee's friend."

That got my attention. "You mean the blond guy?" I still didn't know his name because Griff and I had never discussed him. In truth, we hadn't discussed a lot of things, mostly because Griff wasn't forthcoming.

He'd been working at the shop for only two days, but it was long enough to know that he wasn't exactly chatty. Of course, it didn't help that I couldn't seem to stop making a fool of myself.

Stupid Buick.

Next to me, Tessa let out a long, unsteady breath. "His name is Ryder."

"Ryder?" I let the name rattle around in my head. "Is that his first name? Or his last?"

"Heck if I know, but that's what he calls himself. Anyway, he comes in and orders a dozen pastries – all with raisins, by the way – for delivery to the bike shop."

I blinked. "Wait, you mean my bike shop?"

"That's the one."

I was still assembling the pieces. "So…I'm guessing they were going to Griff?"

"In theory," she said, looking disgruntled. "And he tells me to include bagels, too."

"And that's a problem?"

"Of course it's a problem," she said. "That first morning, they didn't even order bagels." She leaned back with a dramatic groan. "Griff probably hates them."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because if he wanted bagels, he would have ordered bagels." She turned sideways on the sofa to face me. "Do you want to hear something terrible?"

"What?"

"That morning when they both came in together? I gave them bagels anyway." Her tone grew ominous. "Cranberry. On purpose."

"Huh. I didn't think you sold cranberry bagels."

"We don't. That's the point."

"It is?"

"Yeah. I had to use plain ones, except I frosted them with cream cheese to make the cranberries stick. And I used tons of them."

I couldn't help but laugh. "You're kidding."

Tessa's mouth tightened. "It's not funny."

"Oh, come on," I said. "It's a little funny."

But she still wasn't laughing. "Not when you hear the rest."

"I'm guessing…you mean what happened today? With the raisin order?"

"Yeah. Ryder asks for raisin bagels – like they're Griff's all-time favorite. But we're out – thank God. So I tell him we don't have any, and guess what he says."

"What?"

"He tells me to slather the bagels with something sticky and dump a bunch of raisins on top." Her tone became desperate. "Do you realize what this means?"

"Uh…not really."

"It means, I'm just as bad as him. Or maybe I'm worse, since I started it with that stupid cranberry stunt – and then accepted a giant tip when I didn't deserve it."

A wave of second-hand guilt washed over me. I'd used that very same tip to help pay the minimum on my credit card. At the time, it had been such a relief. But now, I hated to see Tessa upset.

Desperate to lighten her mood, I said, "Oh come on. Cranberries aren't stupid. They're delicious."

"But not to everyone. You told me yourself that Griff hates them."

Well, there was that. But I didn't want to say it, because I wanted to make her feel better, not worse. "Hey, it's not that bad. It's not like you sold them poison apples."

She let out a scoff. "Yeah, because we don't sell them."

"And besides," I persisted, "on that first day, they didn't say 'no cranberries.' They just said 'no raisins.'"

"So?"

"So, you didn't give them raisins , did you?"

"No, but that was just a technicality."

I saw what she meant, but she was being way too hard on yourself. "Want to know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think you're overreacting."

Her breath hitched. "I am not."

Something in her eyes made me pause. I had the sudden, gut-deep feeling that this wasn't really about raisins or cranberries. I didn't know what it was, exactly, but it felt bigger than baked goods and more serious than a prank.

I confessed, "I feel like I'm missing something."

Her voice grew quiet. "Yeah. Because I never delivered it."

Huh? And then it hit me. "I didn't mean the pastries."

But she wasn't even listening. She pointed toward the kitchen. "The delivery box is on the table. I figured I'd let you decide." She twisted the edge of her sweatshirt. "I mean, I don't want to poison the guy." With a weak smile, she added, "I know how much you like him."

"What? No. Not like that ." I took a big sip from my tiny bottle. "I just mean…he's terrific with the bikes."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure that's it."

"It is," I insisted. "And we're not talking about me. We're talking about you." I searched her face. "Was that the end of it – with Ryder, I mean?"

She looked more unhappy than ever. "I wish."

I waited for her to elaborate. And when she didn't, I asked, "So…what happened then?"

"So, before he leaves, I tell him flat-out the raisin thing is a bad idea, and he says, 'Don't worry, it'll be hilarious.' And then he looks at me for the longest time and goes, 'You look familiar. Do I know you?'"

Finally, I understood. Tessa was blonde and beautiful, with a body to match. Probably, she wasn't used to being overlooked. I couldn't exactly relate, but I still wanted to be supportive. "Yeah, I guess that's kind of insulting – that he didn't remember you, I mean."

She made a sound of frustration. "That's what you think? That I'm upset some guy didn't remember me?"

She sounded insulted, but for the life of me, I couldn't imagine why. Lamely, I replied, "Well…just look at you. You're gorgeous." It was true. Even in jeans and a light sweatshirt, she looked like she'd just stepped out of a lifestyle ad.

"Oh, please," she said, looking anything but flattered.

"You are ," I insisted.

Her voice sharpened. "Yeah? And what has it gotten me?"

Her reaction caught me off guard, and I shifted on the couch, not sure how to answer. I bit my lip. "Actually, I don't know."

She gave a half-hearted laugh. "Well trust me when I say it's not all sunshine and roses. People think it's easier, but sometimes it's just a giant ticket to Weirdville."

Weirdville? I felt my eyebrows furrow. "So…how weird are we talking?"

She grimaced. "Trust me, you don't want to know."

I tried to laugh. "Is that a nice way of saying you don't want to talk about it?"

Her reply was clipped. "Yes." Looking seriously pissed off, she lifted her little bottle and drained it good and fast before returning it to the table with a thud.

Now I hardly knew what to say. "Sorry," I mumbled. "I didn't mean to pry."

She was silent for a long moment before saying, "You're not. I mean…I'm not mad at you. But let's just stick with today, okay?" Her expression softened. "There's just…stuff I'm not ready to unpack."

Now that , I understood. "Okay…back to today." I kept my voice as gentle as I could. "So why are you upset? I mean...other than the raisin thing."

"Because after Ryder says that I look familiar, I tell him, 'Yeah, I waited on you the other day.' And he says, 'No, I meant from somewhere else.'" Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. "And that was the last thing I wanted to hear."

"Oh." I was still trying to make sense of it. "So it was bad pickup line?"

"Not even close." Her voice rose. "He meant it. Literally . He was trying to place me – like a private detective or something."

"And that's a problem?"

"Of course it's a problem," she said. "I'm not looking for that kind of attention."

I didn't get it. "What kind of attention?"

" Any attention," she said. "And that Ryder guy is just making everything worse." She reached for another bottle. "But forget me . Look what he's doing to Griff, sending him food he hates. It's cruel, like sending peanut butter cookies to a kid with a nut allergy."

I fought a stupid urge to laugh. "It's not that bad. I mean, it's not like raisins would kill him." I paused. "Meaning Griff, not the allergic kid. Obviously."

"But that's not the point," she said. "You don't do that to someone you care about. You just don't." She looked beyond disgusted. "That Ryder guy – he's a terrible friend."