Chapter 4 #2
A lawnmower hums in the distance, and the smell of fresh cut grass wafts on the breeze.
Yards burst with flowers of every color, and I’m reminded I haven’t planted anything myself in my own yard.
Maybe I’ll get some hanging flower baskets for my porch, just like that house.
There’s a woman pruning them and I squint, recognizing Mrs. Garcia.
She loves our red velvet cakes, using every holiday or celebration as an excuse to get one.
She hasn’t put in an order yet for one for Mother’s Day coming up, but I’m sure she will.
If not, I might send a friendly reminder to Mr. Garcia about the occasion.
Down the street, I wave to Mandy, a girl I went to school with but haven’t talked to much since I came back to town.
She’s playing hopscotch with her daughter, a little towheaded girl who clearly doesn’t understand the rules of the games as she stomps theatrically among the squares.
Come to think of it, I’m not sure I remember the rules, either.
“Hey, Rachel,” Mandy says, keeping one eye on her daughter. “You working?”
I glance down at where she’s looking, realizing I still have my chocolate-stained apron on. “Yeah, just a quick break to clear my head.”
“Did, um…” She bites at her lip. “Did Jayce put in an order at the bakery? Can you tell me, or is that breaking some kind of baker-customer confidentiality clause?”
I grin. “I don’t think that applies to my line of work. And, yes, he did.”
Relief breaks over her face. “Good. Because I was dropping mad hints. I wanted to make sure he was actually picking up on them.”
Her husband had ordered a half-dozen chocolate hazelnut cupcakes drizzled with salted caramel sauce for her birthday. “I promise you’ll love them.”
There’s a gleam in her eye I love seeing. “Are they the—Wait, don’t tell me. I want to be surprised.”
I laugh, recognizing the torment between the thrill of surprise and the need to know what’s going on.
“What’s funny?” her daughter asks in a cute lisp, coming over to us.
“Nothing,” Mandy says, picking her up and snuggling her close. “We’re going to have some yummy dessert on my birthday, is all.”
“Is it the cupcakes Daddy—”
“Shh,” Mandy laughs, pressing a finger to her daughter’s mouth. “You’ll ruin the surprise.”
The girl looks between us, then catches on, pressing her own finger to her lips with a grin.
We talk for a few minutes more and I turn around to head back to the bakery, but I’m stopped halfway by Mrs. Montour and her Yorkie, Dolly, out for a midday walk.
There’s no way I can politely smile and keep walking, or she’ll take it as a personal offense.
She’s a regular customer, coming in religiously every Sunday morning for a dozen cinnamon rolls.
“How are you, dear?” She gives me a hug, the same as she does to everyone. “I talked to your mom last week. Sounds like she’s having the time of her life on that cruise.”
I make some kind of agreement and bend to pet Dolly, using the dog as a distraction so I don’t have to say anything about Mom. Dolly’s fur is like the softest silk, gliding beneath my fingers, and she gives me a satisfied huff from her tiny snout, her tail wagging.
Mrs. Montour goes on to talk about how she herself doesn’t trust boats. “I don’t do places where the bathroom might be a bucket. Plus, they make my vertigo act up.”
She continues on, but I’m only half-paying attention. Mrs. Montour loves to hear herself talk, and after her husband died a few years ago, she has no one to blather to at home. Only poor Dolly.
My ears tune in, though, when she says, “I saw Kyle and that new thing of his down at the diner the other day. Well, not so new anymore, is it? Not with her out to here.” She holds her hand away from her stomach in an exaggerated way.
“Finally popped for all the world to see, that one. Bless her heart.”
A weight crashes into my chest. I bet she was dying to drop that bomb in casual conversation.
I give Dolly one last pet and stand again, pasting a smile on my lips. “I’d prefer not to talk about them, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Oh my gosh, where are my manners? Of course, dear.” Though she seems properly chastened, I’m not fooled for a minute, especially not when that crafty look enters her eye.
“Have you been seeing anyone since?” She lays a hand on my arm, her wedding ring still on her left ring finger, even years later, flashing in the sunlight.
“You deserve a good man, honey. Not a boy. Always said that one wasn’t raised right. ”
“I’m doing fine by myself. Focusing on the bakery.”
“Well, you let me know when you’re ready to get out there again. I know a few men who—”
I’m saved by my phone ringing, and I send a silent prayer of thankfulness to the cellular gods as I fish it out of my pocket, giving Mrs. Montour an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. I have to take this.”
She waves me off cheerfully. “I’ll see you Sunday for my cinnamon rolls.”
I smile and turn, hurrying in the direction of the bakery as I answer the phone. I didn’t even check who was calling. “Hello?”
“Hey, where’s the silicone mold with the heart shapes? I can’t find it anywhere.”
Thank God. It’s just Sydney. “It got a crack in it, so I had to toss it.”
“Damn it. I wanted to make mousse hearts to go on the anniversary cake for—”
“I already ordered a replacement. It should be here later today.”
“Oh, good. You’re the best, thanks.”
She hangs up, but I keep my phone at my ear, in case Mrs. Montour can still see me.
I push her comments about Kyle and Autumn out of my head, but one lingers. You deserve a good man.
Nick flashes into my mind unexpectedly. Jae swearing he’d been looking at me. Sydney saying I don’t act like myself around him.
I swallow hard, unsure what to do with the strange connections buzzing in my brain. It’s… it’s only because I’ll be seeing him this Saturday.
The fundraiser will go fine. I’ll probably barely see him.
But with my luck, anything could happen.