Lost Boys and Pirate Kings (Midlife In Neverland #1)

Chapter 1

Chime! Chime! Chime!

The church bells rang in the distance as Maggie Hart scrambled through her bakery’s squat kitchen, checking on various treats and breads that were still left near the end of the day, and wiping down any and all flour that had been left behind as she made her way to the oven.

Squeaky clean floors, she spent hours polishing, allowed her to slip and slide as she did her repetitive tasks.

Perhaps there was a flare of perfectionism within her, but Maggie never once minded it.

What was more enticing than a stunningly clean kitchen, besides a freshly baked cinnamon roll, of course!

“Maggie!” A customer called behind her.

“Just a minute!”

Maggie’s chestnut curls flew around her face as she whipped around the island counter, snatching up thick oven mitts in the same motion.

Though her long hair remained pulled into a thrown together bun at the top of her head, in Dunhollow’s deep, southern summer, there was nothing strong enough to stop the trademark Hart hair from making itself known by sticking out in all directions.

Ignoring the bead of sweat beginning to trickle down her chocolate-stained and rounded cheeks, Maggie pulled open the steaming oven.

Warmth coated her face first, once an unbearable feeling, but one she’d come to appreciate over the years.

The heavenly scent came next: toasted and spiced cinnamon, illuminated through a sickly sweet syrup the melting brown sugar left behind.

And there was Maggie’s favorite part, though she wouldn’t be too quick to admit it: vanilla’s classic and hauntingly nostalgic aroma surrounded it all, embracing Maggie with the most loving hug she’d for a long time.

Perhaps she was riding the high of sweets when she ripped the casserole dish out from the oven, forgetting the ceramic’s hefty weight along with the added voluminous treats within.

The floors she once cherished for their cleanliness swept out from beneath her, and Maggie slipped, gripping onto the freshly baked cinnamon rolls for dear life.

Not a hint of athleticism touched Maggie, not even as a young child.

Any ability she had then to zip around Hart’s Crumbs came entirely from determination and nothing else.

It was her unfailing determination, then, that steadied herself once more, allowing her to rest the sweltering dish upon a cooling rack on the island counter with a heavy exhale.

“Bless your clumsy heart!” she murmured to herself. Careful not to talk too loud, in case her customers thought she was losing her mind.

A year had passed since she first made the move to Dunhollow, and opened up her bakery, Hart’s Crumbs, but to Maggie, each day felt like the very first. The storefront she occupied was the thing of dreams, but all precious things still need some time to get used to.

For instance, the kitchen itself. The building was once used as an old shop, so it’d taken time and work to turn it into a bakery with a store front.

The customers had a small area to stand in, and then a counter separated them from her little kitchen.

Though Maggie had never seen something like it in any of the bakeries she visited, the charm it carried was more than enough to convince her of its quality. Even if it did take some getting used to - as a person who wasn’t quite comfortable with the spotlight just yet.

A trio of strawberry-blonde women in their late forties lingered in front of the counter, their bright eyes peering relentlessly at Maggie.

There was the display stand of breads and treats on the counter between them, but that didn’t stop the town’s nosy regulars from peering over the counter to stare at her as she worked.

Maggie pulled on her best smile as she swiped flour covered hands across her floral apron and crossed back through the kitchen. “You ladies are coming later in the evening than usual.”

“We’ve got a party this evening that needs the best treats in town for.” The woman in the center, had a delicately made bandana to hold her voluminous dyed waves out of her face, and spoke with an aged, but charmed, accent. “Besides, you should know something about this town.”

“And what would that be?” asked Maggie.

She cocked her head and winked. “There’s always someone watching.”

Though there wasn’t anything outrightly ominous about the woman’s teasing, as it pulled a series of shrill laughter from her companions, Maggie’s dry throat grew almost unbearable as she stood in the kitchen threshold.

If anything, she blamed the feeling on how long the women had been waiting for a simple cinnamon roll.

The thought brought a briskness back to Maggie’s step and she whipped back around, returning to the casserole dish and applying a thick and glossy glaze.

“Well,” Maggie called out over her shoulder, “there’s one thing I know for certain about Dunhollow.”

“What is that now?”

Maggie grinned and carried the warm dish towards the front counter. “It carries the finest and most patient ladies I’ve ever met.”

The trio of women lit up like lightning bugs on an early summer evening.

“Don’t you rush for us, darling,” the woman cooed. “We’d wait till the morning if you asked us too.”

One of the other women glanced at the round clock hanging on the wall. “Ain’t you closing soon, sweetheart?”

Maggie nodded. It was a fact she had been trying to ignore.

Sure, it was reaching six o’clock, but there were other patrons lingering in the storefront, still munching on the last batch of croissants she wrangled out of the oven.

The work was long and hard, sometimes resulting in a fall or two, but Maggie wouldn’t change it for anything else.

“Never mind that,” Maggie finally said with a smile. “You ladies will get those fresh cinnamon rolls.”

“I’ll tell you, darling, they are some of the best rolls I’ve ever had.”

“Oh,” Maggie drawled, holding her head down to hide her rising blush, “you are being far welcoming to a newcomer like me.”

The woman slapped the counter playfully. “Don’t be silly! We Dunhollow women don’t lie! Your sweet treats are the finest this little town has seen in quite some time. Ain’t that right, ladies?”

Their heads shook rapidly as Maggie carved up the cinnamon rolls out of the dish, careful not to disturb the glaze oozing down the sides, and placed them on a plate.

Heat simmered against her cheeks and spread down the collar of her frosting stained t-shirt, but she took the compliments as graciously and humbly as she could.

“I can't imagine earning such praise after only a year of being here!” Maggie exclaimed as she rested the cinnamon rolls in front of the women.

“Start imagining it, darling,” the woman said with a snappy wink.

“Everything else is simply the same!” another added.

“Nothing tastes as unique as your products,” the last finished off their complimenting spree.

Maggie struggled to find her words as she took the casserole dish back to the kitchen. With her back facing them for a few fleeting moments, Maggie drew in a shuddering breath, and heard the old mantra she used to start every morning with echo in the back of her mind.

You worked hard and you deserve this.

Something about the words rang hollow to her, but Maggie forced the feeling away. The more she allowed herself to reminisce over the life she had before Dunhollow, the easier it would be to succumb to the very thing she was running from.

Maggie shoved the thought away. There was no time to think of it.

The sound of a bell chiming above the front door to Hart’s Crumbs pulled Maggie out of the trenches of her reverie.

Pulling the smile back onto her face, she twisted around and went to the counter, leaving the comforting warmth of the cinnamon rolls behind.

The trio of women took respective seats at the bar, each selecting one treat to have now, and munching on their sweets with slow movements.

The Dunhollow women could not hide their interest, however, as sharp heels clicked against the shining checkered floors.

Maggie swiped a rag over the counter and felt her smile become frozen. “Regine Cersie,” she greeted, surprised as to how calm her voice sounded, “how nice to see you.”

“Bless you, Maggie Hart,” the woman eating the cinnamon roll exclaimed. “This cinnamon roll is absolutely-"

“Your shelves look a bit empty,” Regina interjected, anger in her voice.

The woman’s pin straight black hair fell down her back like a long cape, despite the raging heat outside.

White linen clothes hung from her narrow figure effortlessly, even though the woman ran a bakery just like Maggie did.

While Maggie was covered in stains from head to toe, Regina looked as spotless as her cement floors.

“It’s a bad look, Maggie. Haven’t I told you that before?

” A scarlet smile spread across Regina’s lips, but the sharp glint in her emerald eyes was unmistakably cruel.

Maggie kept her polite mask up as much as she could as a pair of customers entered in after her. “You have,” she said with a tight voice. “And I appreciate your…advice very much, Regina.”

The customers came up to the counter, even when Regina barely stepped out of their way.

“Good evening,” Maggie greeted them with a sing-songy voice. “Interested in a sweet treat to end the day?”

The pair of younger girls grinned eagerly as they looked through the case. Sure, it was missing a few things, but Maggie planned on closing within the hour. Things needed to be cleared out, not restocked.