Chapter Eight
The flat door crashed open at half past eight on Saturday morning, and Elliott wondered if she could replace the door with some form of reinforced steel.
"Emergency! Code red! All hands on deck!"
Shay burst in like a hurricane in human form, curly red hair flying, oversized jacket nearly falling off one shoulder. She was carrying two coffees and wearing an expression that suggested the world was either ending or beginning anew. With Shay, it was usually the latter.
"Some of us," Elliott said from the kitchen counter, where she'd been peacefully editing cookbook photos, "were having a quiet morning."
"Quiet mornings are for people who aren't in crisis." Shay thrust a coffee at her. "Drink this. You'll need caffeine for what I'm about to tell you."
"I already have caffeine."
"Then you'll have more caffeine." Shay threw herself onto the sofa with the dramatic flair of a Victorian woman about to faint. "I've met the one."
Elliott didn't look up from her laptop. "Again?"
"This time it's different."
"You said that about the potter last month."
"The potter was a mistake. I acknowledge that. The clay thing was weird. Sort of… squidgy. And her hands were always dirty." Shay waved her hand dismissively. "But this time, El. This time I really mean it."
Elliott finally glanced over. "Go on then. Who is it?"
"That's the thing." Shay sat up, her face a mixture of elation and genuine confusion. "I'm not sure I know which one."
"Which one what?"
"Which one is the one. There are three of them, see?" Shay clutched at her coffee. "I went to that speed-dating thing last night, you know, the one at the pub on the corner? And I met three absolutely perfect people and now I don't know what to do."
Elliott stared at her. "You went speed-dating and fell in love three times in one evening?"
"When you say it like that, it sounds excessive."
"It is excessive."
"It's romantic!" Shay protested. "It's… abundance. The universe is providing options."
"The universe is providing chaos." Elliott turned back to her laptop. "Just pick one."
"I can't just pick one! That's like asking me to choose a favorite child."
"You don't have children."
"Hypothetical children." Shay flopped backwards. "There's Sam, who's a veterinarian and has the most beautiful hands I've ever seen. Like, genuinely sculptural hands. And she laughed at all my jokes, even the bad ones."
"All your jokes are bad."
"Exactly! She liked them anyway!" Shay continued. "Then there's Tim. He’s a librarian and quoted poetry at me. Actual poetry, Elliott. Unprompted. Something about stars and longing."
"Sounds pretentious."
"It was incredibly pretentious and I loved every second of it.
" Shay sighed dreamily. "And then there's Jo, who works at the animal shelter and showed me pictures of rescue dogs for the entire three-minute conversation.
I think I'm in love with all of them. Possibly at the same time. Is that allowed?"
"I don't think there are rules."
"Maybe they'd all be into each other too. Maybe we could start a commune." Shay's eyes went distant with possibility. "A love commune. With dogs."
"Please don't start a commune."
"You're no fun." Shay sat up properly and fixed Elliott with an assessing look. "Speaking of romance."
"We weren't speaking of romance. We were speaking of your inability to make decisions."
"Same thing, really." Shay's smile turned sly. "So. The cute blonde downstairs."
Elliott's fingers froze on the keyboard. "What about her?"
"Don't 'what about her' me. You've been accidentally living with her for nearly a week. I want details."
"There are no details. She's annoying."
"Annoying how?"
"Annoying in every possible way." Elliott resumed typing with more force than necessary. "She can't bake. She sets off the fire alarm constantly. She watches medical videos at two in the morning, and she's sleeping on my couch even though this is technically her flat now."
Shay's eyebrows rose. "You gave her the couch?"
"She insisted."
"You let her insist?"
"I didn't let her anything. She just… did it." Elliott scowled at her screen. "She's a people-pleaser. It's pathological."
"Uh-huh." Shay was grinning now. "And she's cute?"
"I didn't say she was cute."
"You didn't have to. You've got that look."
"I don't have a look."
"You absolutely have a look. It's the same look you had when we watched that film with Sandra Bullock and you pretended not to fancy her."
"I didn't fancy her."
"You rewound the kiss scene four times."
"I was checking the cinematography."
Shay laughed, bright and delighted. "Right. Sure. The cinematography." She tucked her legs under her. "So what's her name? This annoying, not-at-all-cute person you're definitely not interested in?"
"Julia." Elliott said the name before she could stop herself. It tasted fruity and nice in her mouth. She liked the roundness of it.
"Huh," said Shay. "Nice name. And have I mentioned that she’s cute? Plus, you’re accidentally living together. That's fate. That's the universe saying something."
"The universe is saying my life is a disaster." Elliott closed her laptop. "She can't cook, Shay. At all. She burned bread yesterday. Bread. The woman is a danger to society. She owns a bakery and can’t bake. I cannot overstate just how stupid that is."
"But she's pretty."
"That's not relevant."
"It's always relevant." Shay tilted her head. "When's the last time you were actually interested in someone? Like, properly interested?"
Elliott didn't answer.
"That's what I thought." Shay's voice softened. "El, you can't hide in this flat forever. You can't just… exist alone with your cookbook and your walls and pretend that's enough."
"It is enough."
"Is it?"
Elliott closed her computer. "The cookbook is coming along. I'm about halfway through. The photography's good. The recipes are solid."
"I wasn't asking about the cookbook."
"Well, I'm answering about the cookbook." Elliott crossed her arms. "Once it's done, I'll figure out the next step. Maybe find an agent. Get it published."
"Have you been to see Milly lately?"
The question came out of nowhere and Elliott hated it. She’d been avoiding going to see Milly and she knew exactly why. But Shay didn’t understand the meaning of the word avoid and had about as much tact and diplomacy as a ten-ton bomb. "I've been busy."
"Elliott."
"I've talked to her on the phone."
"That's not the same, and you know it." Shay rose and came to stand beside her. "She's in a retirement home, not on the moon. It's a fifteen-minute drive."
"I know where it is."
"Then go and see her."
Elliott said nothing.
Shay sighed. "You're scared."
"I'm not scared."
"You are. You're scared of seeing her in there, of seeing her old and… settled. Different. Like it makes it real that she's not going to be around forever."
Elliott's jaw tightened. "Can we not do this?"
"Fine." Shay held up her hands. "Fine. I'll drop it. But she misses you, El. She told me so herself when I visited yesterday."
"You visited?"
"Someone had to." Shay's voice was gentle but pointed. "She's family. Your family. The only real family you've got. Don't let that slip away because you're too stubborn to sit with uncomfortable feelings."
Elliott sighed. "I'll go see her. Soon."
"Promise?"
"I said I would."
Shay studied her for a long moment, then nodded. "Good. Now, walk me out through the bakery so I can get a better look at this Julia person. I need to assess whether she's worthy of your grumpiness."
"She's not worthy of anything. She's just… there."
"Mmhmm. Sure." Shay grabbed her bag. "Let's go."
They headed down the narrow stairs that led to the bakery kitchen. The smell of something baking hit Elliott's nose, which was surprising. It actually smelled edible. Perhaps Tara had arrived early.
"Oh, that's lovely," Shay said. "Is that—"
The fire alarm exploded into life.
Elliott closed her eyes. "And there it is."
Through the kitchen door, she could see Julia frantically waving a tea towel at the ceiling, flour in her hair, face flushed with what looked like a combination of effort and despair. At the counter, Tara was calmly removing something from the warming oven while the chaos swirled around her.
"That's her?" Shay asked, peering through the doorway.
"Unfortunately."
"She is gorgeous."
"She is a menace."
"She can be both." Shay grinned. "I like her already."
Elliott popped through the kitchen door and jabbed the alarm button with practiced efficiency. Silence fell.
"Thank you!" Julia called out breathlessly. "I don't know what happened. Tara was teaching me to monitor temperatures and I thought I had it and then…"
"Fire," Elliott said flatly. "Then you made fire. Again."
"It wasn't fire exactly. More like… aggressive smoke."
"Aggressive smoke is just fire's opening act."
Shay snorted. Julia's eyes darted to her, then back to Elliott, a question forming on her face.
"This is Shay," Elliott said shortly. "She's leaving."
"I'm her best friend," Shay added cheerfully. "And I'm absolutely not leaving until I've properly said hello."
"Hi." Julia wiped her flour-covered hands on her apron and extended one toward Shay, then thought better of it. "Sorry. I'm a bit of a mess."
"I can see that. I love it." Shay beamed at her. "So you're the one keeping Elliott on her toes."
"I'm trying not to burn the building down. So far I'm only partially succeeding."
"Progress is progress." Shay shot Elliott a meaningful look. "I'll let you get back to it. Elliott, remember what I said."
"Goodbye, Shay."
"About the thing."
"Goodbye."
Shay laughed and headed for the front door. Elliott watched her go, then turned back to the kitchen. Julia was still standing there, looking sheepish, while Tara quietly arranged pastries in the display case.
And that's when Elliott noticed.
Tara's hair.
Yesterday, it had been shoulder length. Now it was cropped short, almost severe, close to her head. The kind of dramatic change that didn't happen by accident.
"Tara," Elliott said. "Your hair."
Tara's hand went self-consciously to her head. "Oh. Yeah. Just felt like a change."
It wasn't convincing. There was something in Tara's eyes, something uncertain, that suggested this was about more than a new style.
"It looks good," Elliott said carefully.
"Thanks." Tara turned back to the pastries. "I should finish setting up."
Elliott wanted to ask more, wanted to push, but she recognized the walls going up. She'd built enough of her own to know when someone else was constructing theirs.
"Let me know if you need anything," she said instead.
Tara nodded without turning around.
Elliott headed back toward the stairs, then paused. Julia was watching Tara with a thoughtful expression, one that suggested she'd noticed something too.
Before Elliott could turn back, the fire alarm went off again.
"Oh, for heaven’s sake." Julia spun toward the oven, where a tray of something had begun smoking enthusiastically. "I didn't even touch anything this time."
"And yet," Elliott said, "somehow…"
She jabbed the alarm button again and watched Julia scramble to contain the damage. Flour everywhere. Smoke billowing. The distinct smell of burning hanging in the air.
Elliott retreated up the stairs, already planning her afternoon. Cookbook work. Photography. Peaceful solitude away from fire alarms and blonde disasters.
She wondered, briefly, if there was some sort of agency she could report Julia to.
A government department for people who posed a clear and present danger to baked goods.
A hotline for those victimized by chronic kitchen incompetence.
Maybe a place that would come and take Julia away for being a danger to humanity.
Probably not.
But it was nice to imagine. And it would at least be a way of getting rid of Julia and getting her apartment back.