Chapter 8 Beck
BECK
I felt like I’d won a prize when I left the house with Avery the morning after she’d found Harold Pembroke’s body.
Not because of the murder, obviously, but because I’d get her to myself for a while, and I was willing to admit — if only to myself — that I was more than a little intrigued by the brown-eyed beauty.
“Do you always walk to work?” she asked, looking up at me as we started down the driveway.
She’d pulled her glossy brown hair into a ponytail, which only made her cheekbones sharper, her brown eyes bigger. The more I looked at her, the prettier she became, and I had to force myself not to stare in an attempt to decipher the puzzle of her face.
Her body didn’t hurt either. She hadn’t dressed to show it off, but even in loose jeans and a floral blouse, it was obvious she had curves in all the right places.
Why had I never imagined Evelyn’s niece as a smokeshow?
“Pretty much,” I said. “It’s only a few blocks and it’s a nice way to start the day.”
It was early, the sun rising behind the mountains in the east, and Blackwell Hollow was just beginning to wake up for the day.
On mornings like this, I almost understood Noah’s love for working outside.
Dew clung to the grass, the birds were singing in the trees overhead, and after a long winter, it was finally warm enough to walk to the bakery without a coat.
We came to the corner of Foxglove Lane where Bastien Drake, co-owner of Bramble House, was hosing off the sidewalk in front of the B&B, a ritual he repeated daily even though the sidewalk was rarely dirty.
His brown hair, silvering at the temples, was damp, like he was fresh out of the shower, and he stood in the overspray from the hose in his usual work boots and jeans, his flannel shirt rolled at the sleeves.
“Morning, Bastien!” I called out.
He returned my smile. “Good morning!”
I stepped toward him and he turned off the spray on the hose.
“This is Avery Hart,” I said. “She’s Evelyn’s niece. Avery, Bastien Drake. He and his husband Gabriel own the inn.”
“Avery!” Bastien said, greeting her like an old friend. “We’ve heard so much about you!”
Avery grimaced. “Oh no.”
Bastien laughed. “All good! Evelyn was always talking about how proud she was of you. You’re working for a housing nonprofit, right?”
Avery’s cheeks turned pink. “She told you about that?”
Bastien smiled. “Evelyn was always bragging about you.”
Avery ducked her head and toed the wet concrete.
“Something I said?” Bastien asked.
I’d always liked him. His gentle demeanor was the perfect foil for Gabriel, who could be on the prickly side.
Avery shook her head. “I wasn’t in touch like I should have been. I sent her little thank-you notes telling her what I was up to, but I hadn’t spoken to her on the phone or in person for ages.”
Sympathy was written all over Bastien’s face. “Evelyn seemed to know you were just a busy young person making your way.”
“Thank you,” Avery said. “I guess I’m still getting my head around the fact that she’s gone. It’s more real now that I’m here.”
Bastien nodded. “We’re all still getting our heads around it too. Evelyn was an important part of our community. She’d be glad you’re here.”
Avery nodded, and I wondered if she was thinking about the fact that she planned to sell the house.
Bastien looked my way. “Can you throw a couple extra chocolate croissants into the basket this morning? We have some repeat customers and they can’t stop talking about them from their last visit.”
“You got it.” I edged away from him, eager to give Avery emotional space from the conversation about Evelyn. She was going to have a lot of them over the next few days. “Have a great day!”
“You too.” Bastien turned on the hose and aimed it away from us. “And come by anytime, Avery. I’ll keep the croissants warm and introduce you to Gabriel.”
“Thank you! I may take you up on that.” Avery looked up at me as we continued toward Main Street. “What basket?”
“Bastien and Gabriel are regulars at the bakery. I send over a basket of pastries every morning for their guests.”
We turned the corner at Good Dog & Co, the pet shop, and started toward the bakery.
“Are there a lot of those?” Avery asked. “Customers who have standing orders?”
“Not really. There are almost always guests at the inn, so it makes sense, but most of our orders come in as needed. We do supply pastry trays for town events like Council meetings and Chamber of Commerce meet and greets though.”
A bump sounded against the glass of Petals on Main and I turned to see Clara Sayer placing a fresh bouquet of pink roses in the window, her silvery blonde hair already escaping its pins even though it was barely six a.m.
She returned my wave, then disappeared behind the flowers in the window.
“That’s Clara,” I said. “She was one of Evelyn’s best friends.”
An adorable little line appeared on the bridge of Avery’s nose as her expression turned pensive. “I feel like I might remember her.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” I said. “I think she’s been in Blackwell Hollow as long as Evelyn.”
We came to the bakery and I removed my keys from the pocket of my jeans. “This is us.”
Avery stepped back to look up at the store’s facade and I was glad Evelyn had ordered it repainted the year before.
The Golden Crumb was spelled out in gold letters on the window, the trim had been painted a fresh spring green, and Blackwell Hollow’s signature deep green awning sheltered the storefront.
“Did Evelyn always own this?” Avery asked as I inserted a key into the door. “I don’t remember it.”
“Her records go back about ten years. I’m not sure who owned it before that.” I walked into the dark interior of the store and crossed to the glass counter along one wall. “We have a part-time employee, Malcolm. He’s off today.”
I flipped the switch on the wall and the shop came to life under the lights. I felt the same rush of pleasure I always felt when I came to work. Noah was happiest with his hands in the dirt, and who knew where Dane was happiest (or if he was happy at all), but this was my happy place.
Even when the shop was closed the smell of flour and chocolate and rising bread lingered in the air and the glass counter gleamed, empty and waiting for today’s fresh-baked cookies and pastries.
On the other side of the room, three bistro tables were ready for the customers who could come in to catch up over coffee and croissants, and the soft pink walls, recently repainted at Evelyn’s behest, cast the generously sized shop in a rosy glow.
Avery turned in a slow circle, taking it all in while I set down my bag.
“I don’t remember this at all.” Her voice was tinged with sadness.
“Maybe Evelyn didn’t own it back then?” I suggested.
“Maybe,” Avery said. “I do remember baking with her, but in my memories we’re always at the house, although the kitchen looks different in my mind’s eye.”
“She had the kitchen renovated last year.”
Avery’s shoulders sagged. “I can’t help feeling like…”
I lifted my eyebrows, waiting for her to continue.
“Like she did all this for me.” Avery looked around the bakery. “Pink is still my favorite color.”
And now I was sure: Evelyn had done all the redecorating, in the house and at the bakery, for Avery. I’d been surprised when Evelyn had the empty guest suite painted pink — Evelyn’s style was more crisp, more practical — but now it made sense.
“Hey.” I crossed the room and put my hands on Avery’s shoulders, hoping I wasn’t overstepping.
“It’s okay. Bastien was right, Evelyn was happy you were out in the world, busy living.
I never heard her talk about you with anything but love.
Older people know the clock is ticking. She wanted to make everything nice for you because she loved you, and she wanted inheriting it all to be pleasant and easy, or as easy as it can be to inherit a big house and a small business. ”
I’d only meant to comfort Avery, but now she was right there, just inches away, looking up at me with sad brown eyes that made me want to pull her close, bake her some cupcakes, fuck her senseless.
Dammit.
“Thanks.” She sniffled. “She sounds really amazing. I wish I’d known her better. Not just for her, but for me too.”
“You can know her through the Crumb,” I said, referencing the bakery. “And through the house and the town. She loved this place, crazy as it can be sometimes.”
Avery flashed me a sad, lopsided smile. “Crazy?”
I chuckled. “Well, you did find a dead body on your first day.”
“Good point. When I first drove into town I thought…”
“Boring?” I suggested. “Sickeningly cute?”
She laughed. “More like… nothing bad ever happens here.”
“You’re mostly right.” I forced myself to drop my hands from her shoulders even though it was the opposite of what I really wanted to do. “But you know what they say…”
“What do they say?” she asked.
I reached for an apron from the hook on the wall and pulled it over my head. “Never judge a book by its cover.”
Her gaze dropped to my apron. She lifted her eyebrows. “Really?”
I looked down at the words embroidered on the apron: I like big buns. “What?”