26. A Princess-Cut Diamond, Twinkle Lights, & Books #2
“We have enough sugar cookies!” Aunt Marie, the oldest of the three–and by far the bossiest–huffed.
“If you bake any more, they’re just going to sit here and go stale by Monday.
Come help Aurora fill the boxes. And grab some peppermint fudge.
We sold out last year.” She glanced up. “You, too, Willow. Let those cookies cool and come help with these.”
Aunt Gale did not look convinced, but she obediently came to stand by my side and began loading cookies into boxes.
Willow, however, gave her oldest sister a mutinous scowl.
“I’m so lucky to have someone like you to tell me what to do, Marie.
It’s not as if I’ve been working here for the last thirty years as well! ”
I unsuccessfully tried to smother a grin.
Listening to my aunts bicker was one of my favorite pastimes.
They rarely argued about serious matters, which was why their little spats were so funny.
Never having had a sibling myself, I could only imagine having someone so close I could argue with them on a daily basis and not drive them away.
But as I had none, I had to content myself with listening to and enjoying my aunts.
Despite the argument that Marie and Willow were now engaged in and the Christmas hymns that were playing softly over the speakers, the bakery was comfortably quiet.
We had just flipped the CLOSED sign on the door, which meant it was time to prepare for the charity fundraiser tomorrow, which would be held at Town Hall.
The sky was a deep gray, and judging by the clouds, snow was going to start falling any moment.
But as we were cozily tucked into the bakery–which also served as our home–we had nowhere better to be, and I was more than ready to see the Christmas season start out with a thick, powdery blanket of white.
A cold, wet nose nudged my leg, and I looked down to find my dog, Prince, looking at me with sad, hungry eyes.
Prince wasn’t a handsome dog by any stretch.
He looked very much like an artist might paint a pathetic mutt right off the street.
Fur of all colors sticking out in all directions, and several bald patches from who knew what scrape he’d gotten into when he was on the street.
We had no idea what breed he was—only that he was a mutt—a mixture of so many breeds of big dogs that not even the vet had been able to guess which one took precedence over the others.
He also had been found on the street. They’d told us so the day I’d chosen to adopt him at the local pound.
He was, however, no longer starving, despite the look he was giving me as his nose inched closer and closer to the box I was filling with cookies.
“No, sir,” I said with a smile, gently pushing his head away from the food with my elbow. “Cookies are not good for dogs. And don’t think I didn’t just hear Aunt Gale tell you no, too.”
Prince whined but pressed himself against my leg, seeming convinced that if he snuggled hard enough, I would hand over the sugar.
“These are so gorgeous!” Gale whined, pulling my attention from my dog. She looked from the cookies to me with a wistful smile. “If only we could share pictures of you with them. We’d get a lot more attention that way.”
“You know we can’t do that,” Marie said sternly. “She might see.”
“May that dratted woman’s high heels always break and her lipstick constantly be dry,” Aunt Willow muttered. “If I ever see her in the flesh, I’m going to let her know just what I think of her and her stupid career!”
“I hope you never do,” I said, shivering.
At this, Prince looked away from the food and focused on me before shoving his head onto my lap and licking my arm.
I took my gloves off and rubbed his head, focusing on the warmth of his heavy body against my legs.
I would have to wash my hands now, but Prince’s comfort was worth it.
“What if we posted pictures of you without your name?” Aunt Gale suggested hopefully. “Or used a pseudonym to confuse the computer?”
“We’re not trying to confuse the computer,” Aunt Marie said, shaking her head, her thick silver curls bouncing as she did.
“There are too many ways to search for photos of people online now. We can’t post Aurora’s picture, and that’s it.
” She pursed her lips. “Though you’re not wrong. She would make a lovely mascot.”
I smiled, my cheeks turning warm at the praise. “People coming to this bakery want three experienced aunties baking for them anyway. My picture would just ruin the character of the shop.”
“Now, you know that’s not true!” Willow said, shaking a spatula at me. “People from all over Buchkarte have thought of you as the face of the bakery for years!”
“You’ve nearly been here ten years as it is!” Gale added. “And you’ve been baking with us since you arrived. That’s almost a decade of experience! Not bad for being only twenty-three!”
“Forget the people of Buchkarte,” Aunt Marie said firmly. “I happen to know of several young men who wish you would let them see your face a bit more in person.”
“Oh, yes!” Gale beamed. “Kim Johnston was telling me just last week that her son, Rusty, would love to take you to a movie! If you want, I can give her a call and let her know you’re interested!”
“Gale, the man is twenty-five. If Rusty Johnston wants to take her out, he can come and ask in person like a big boy,” Willow scoffed.
Then she stopped stacking cookie boxes to wink at me.
“Logan Rethsenn, however… He’s been looking your way for a while.
And if he happens to come over and talk, I would not overlook him if I were you.
The man is a firefighter!” She stopped and pretended to fan herself with a stack of napkins.
“And this is when I go get something I forgot,” I said, tossing my plastic gloves in the trash. Then I headed toward the stairs beside the kitchen with Prince right on my heels. My aunts protested, but I only shook my head and smiled before making my way up the steps toward my room.
The bakery was actually part of the original house that had been renovated thirty years before, when my aunts had purchased the place with the intention of starting a bakery and a home together at the same time.
Thankfully, in addition to having the bakery and kitchen put in, they’d thought ahead and had created an extra bedroom out of the attic with its pretty dormers and long, open space.
They hadn’t known it at the time, of course, as I hadn’t been alive, but the attic would one day become my safe place–the only place I’d ever had where I could confidently hide.
I made my way there now with Prince by my side, and as soon as I opened my bedroom door, I felt like I could breathe.