Chapter 1
Quinn
Nine Years Later
I peer out the little window in the kitchen door, seeing the man still finishing his coffee. He sits at the table in front of the tall wall mirror, and he’s been there for two hours. I hate kicking people out, but…
Oh, who am I kidding? I’ve never kicked anyone out.
I usually rely on them seeing me switch the sign on the door and start cleaning up for them to get the hint that I’m closing.
Here I am, though. Dishes are done, counters cleaned, trash taken out, dough prepped for tomorrow, and floors swept and mopped.
I only have to pack up the leftovers for the day and count out the register, which I refuse to do when I’m alone in the shop with a customer I don’t know.
Hailey, my cashier, and Noel, my barista, left hours ago.
But as if he can hear my thoughts, the lone guy rises, buttons his suit jacket, and tucks in his chair. Aw. Nobody does that. I smile as he pushes through the door, leaving the bakery.
“See you soon,” I call out.
He doesn’t reply, simply turns his head slightly, showing me the side of his face, and nods once.
Once he’s gone, I lock the door behind him and shut off the light. Heading to his table, I pick up his cup and saucer and swipe up his napkin to find a phone sitting underneath it.
I look to the windows, then to the phone, grabbing it as I set the dishes down and run to the door.
I open it and peer out. “Sir?”
I look both directions, but all I see are diners sitting outside to my right, at Rivertown Grill, and some cars driving by. He’s gone.
I lock the door again and inspect the phone, finally noticing how old it is. The gritty texture leaves patches of black on my hand, and I bring it to my nose, noticing the scent of fire. I flip it open, pressing buttons, but it’s dead. No one uses these anymore. What a strange thing to even carry.
I shrug. He’ll come back for it.
Swiping up the dishes again, I walk into the kitchen, set the phone on the counter, and place everything in the sink. I turn and move all the remaining pastries from a tray to a box.
But no sooner have I started than Dylan comes bursting through the swinging door, from the front of the shop.
I jump as she rushes me. “No, no, no!” she cries, running for the chocolate coconut donuts. “I need them!”
Hunter laughs, trailing in behind her, followed by Hawke and Aro, Hawke’s girlfriend.
Dylan barrels into me, and we take turns shoving each other with our hips for supremacy over the remaining baked goods.
I snatch one out of her hand before she takes a bite. “No, you need to take them to the senior center and help me out.”
I’m doing a test run for the summer to see if I can be a bakery and do some light fare for lunch too. Sandwiches, flatbread pizzas, soups….
I’m staying open way too late, though, and trying to be back here at three-thirty in the morning to bake is making it difficult to find time for exercise, my family, or any kind of sleep.
If I don’t get into a groove with my business soon, this trial will be a fail.
I thought going to business school would teach me more practical applications, but I’m still struggling on time management.
I learned marketing and accounting, and I’ve easily mastered things like strategy, taxes, and communication.
But leadership? It would’ve been better for me to apprentice before jumping into my own bakery.
Jared would tell me that real work experience trumps schooling every time.
I don’t believe that, exactly, but I’d be better off if I’d slowed down.
Hunter stands on the other side of the counter, plucking a donut off the tray and handing it to his girlfriend. “We’ll take them,” he tells me, kissing Dylan on the temple.
“How’d you guys get in?” I look around at them. “I locked the front door.”
Aro won’t meet my eyes, Hunter gives me a tight smile, and Dylan leans her elbows on the counter, shrugging. “No, you didn’t.”
I cock an eyebrow as Hawke snorts, pulling a chocolate milk out of the fridge.
Hunter glances to him. “It’s time to tell her, man.”
“We’ll tell her when she’s ready to use it,” Hawke replies as if I’m not here.
Dylan stuffs her mouth with the pastry as she looks up at me with glee.
I point my finger around the room. “You know I’m older than all of you, right?”
They all laugh.
They’ve been hinting about something for a while now.
I know there’s some urban legend they’re researching, and I know they’re in here after closing hours and off-season too.
I gave them all keys because I might’ve needed any one of them to have access, in case a pipe burst while I was away at school, or if they were in need of extra space for holiday cooking.
But something is going on, and the only reason I don’t press harder about it is because I don’t want to know. If I know, then I’ll feel like I have to be the responsible one, because I’m the oldest. I’d rather not ruin their good time.
I shouldn’t feel like that, but I know I’m not fun. I’m the inexperienced one compared to them, and it sucks. I’ve got a college degree. My own business. I’m disciplined, punctual, and a taxpayer. Why do I feel younger than them?
“Come on, we’ve gotta get back.” Hunter dusts off his hands. “Lights out in thirty minutes.”
They’re all working at Camp Blackhawk, like last summer. They get a couple of hours of free time while the kids have campfire jamboree at night.
I hand Hunter the two boxes to drop off at the senior center. “Where’s Kade?”
“Tending to needs.” Dylan cleans her teeth with her tongue. “Whatever that means.”
“Even I know what that means,” I say as I lead the way to the back door.
Like Dylan, Hunter, and Aro, Kade is nineteen and would prefer to spend his summers doing one thing and one thing only. So suffice it to say, he makes the most out of his two hours of free time before lights out.
“Hey, what’s this?” Dylan asks.
She picks up the phone that the customer left, turning it over in her hand.
“Someone left it on a table,” I tell her. “I’m going to put it in the Lost and Found.”
“It looks like the one that was in my desk when I stayed in Weston,” she explains. “I forgot about it.”
A look passes between her and Hawke.
“Did you see who left it?” Hawke asks me.
“Some guy.” I take the phone out of Dylan’s hand and set it back down. “I didn’t get a good look. Why?”
Hawke’s quiet before he draws in a deep breath and shakes his head. “No reason. Just leave it in the Lost and Found. Someone will come for it, I’m sure.”
Aro throws him a look as I push open the back door, nudging them out. Not that I don’t love them, but I have exactly two hours before I need to be in bed.
Dylan takes another bite, groaning. “Quinn, seriously. You should go global.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“At least domestic shipping!”
I smile, giving her a little shove.
But then she spins around. “Or enter that baking contest!”
“Right!” I feign enthusiasm. “The Shelburne Falls Festival of… Reindeer…Chestnut...Silly Sweater Dasher Dancer Ice Miracle Angel Fest!” I tease. “Will do!”
Hunter laughs his ass off because I’m a baker in a small town, and I’ve heard all of the Hallmark jokes.
They wave, Dylan blowing me a kiss, and I catch it, closing the door and locking it.
I adore them all. I love how happy they are. They deserve it.
But I feel like the odd one out more than ever now.
And Kade doesn’t count. He loves being unattached.
I shake it off, needing some fresh air. And my earbuds.
Changing in the bathroom, I don a pair of black leggings, sports bra, and white tank crop top with a black jacket over it.
I braid my hair and pull on the light blue Chicago Cubs cap before slipping my ID and shop key into the pocket on my leg and fit my earbuds into my ears.
Tuning to my favorite list, I leave through the back door, locking it behind me.
It’s only after eight. Dark but not late. The streets will still be alive with activity. Especially on a warm June evening.
I leave the alley, heading onto First and turning onto High Street. I roll my shoulders, stretch my arms above my head, and let the breeze wash over my body as the scent of potted flowers on the sidewalks lingers in the air just a little.
I double-knot my tennis shoes and start jogging, passing my shop, Rivertown Grill, and the bowling alley.
I take a right into the neighborhood, and feel a burst of energy in my legs, free at last. I sidestep trees and mailboxes, swerving around cars parked at the curb.
Then, I cross the street and dive between houses.
Mr. Zellers sits on his back porch, and I wave as I descend the small grassy hill to the fenced-in community pool.
I race past it, inhaling the chlorine and remembering the first and last time I swam here.
I had a pool at home growing up—still do—but if you wanted to be seen as a teenager, this was the place.
Turned out, I didn’t really want to be seen.
I pound the pavement, sweating already, and curving right onto Main Street.
A truck comes up behind me, passes, and I see the red paint and the JT Racing emblem on the tailgate. I hold my breath, dread setting in, but I keep running, even when I see his taillights brighten. Oh, no. The vehicle halts in the middle of the street and I square my shoulders, continuing on.
Jared steps out of the driver’s side. I don’t slow down. “Don’t worry. I’m staying in lighted areas—”
But my brother swoops me up and throws me over his shoulder.
Damn him! I grit my teeth together, but only kick my legs once in frustration. It’s no use fighting more.
Jared carries me around the truck, and Jax hops out of the passenger side, opening up the back door for him.
Jared deposits me inside, and I try to jump out, but Jax slams the door in my face. I yank out my earbuds and pound my fist against the window.
I don’t believe this.
I kind of loved it when I was six. Started to resent it when I was eleven. I’m twenty-one years old now.