5. Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Mazie
A lina has officially returned from her honeymoon, and I couldn’t be happier to have her back. She’s absolutely glowing and smiling more than I’ve seen in years.
But it also means I can seek the solace of my home once again. My therapist thinks it was good for me to get some extra time out and at the café, that it’s necessary for me to learn to rebuild the trust in strangers, and being in what should be a safe place for me is the best way to do that.
She’s right, but that doesn’t mean I feel like opening myself up for that. A stranger killed my parents. Absolutely ripped them from our lives and changed my entire trajectory.Regardless of what my therapist thinks, I’ve sought safety in my house in the two weeks Alina’s been back. But today I have to head back to the café to do inventory.
It’s something I try to make sure I’m doing at least once a month, more frequently in busy months. Those touristy times, which are mostly summer and fall, keep us going. Our town draws a bigger crowd in the fall as the leaves change, especially with the nearby orchards, but we also have regular festivals. Enough that people will travel for them.
It helps that there’s a small, private lake just on the town limits for a warm summer day. I used to frequent the lake in high school, but not for swimming.
We mostly stopped going after Mom and Dad died. The memories were just too painful. They used to take us there for a nice beach day in the summer. The one year Eli and I tried to get them to go, it ended with us three girls in tears, Liv storming into her room, and Eli drinking a beer on the back deck while he grilled some hamburgers for dinner.
Even though I stay home most days, I get myself fully dressed each morning. Today was a hair washing day, so my curls fall in auburn curtains over my shoulders. One final glance in the mirror by the front door and a deep breath has me heading out.
Adjusting my purse strap on my shoulder, I lock the front door, then check that it’s locked. I bound down the front steps before climbing back up them to check one more time that the door is, in fact, locked.
Fully satisfied, I walk back down the steps and get into my car. Though Juniper Grove isn’t very big, and I could probably walk to the café, I feel better being locked inside my car. You’d think with my parents being murdered in a carjacking gone wrong, I wouldn’t want to ever step foot in a car again, but it beats being out in the open. At five-foot-three, I'd be easy to grab, lift, and drag away.
The thought alone makes me shudder, and my hand slides into my purse for my phone, which I clutch in my fist.
Zach’s always only a call away. Any time of day or night. And not just because he is 911. He’s made it exceptionally clear that I can call him any time, even if I’m just feeling uneasy, which he knows is most of the time.
He’s certainly been over a few dozen times when I heard something suspicious in the middle of the night. There’s never been anything of concern, but he doesn't complain, even offering to stay in case the sound returns. I always feel bad and tell him it’s okay and often don’t get much more sleep until the sun is up.
Things are less scary in the daylight.
Shaking my head, I get back on track. I have things to do at the café today and want to be sure I’m not there any longer than necessary.
I park behind Liv’s BMW. Ever since she moved to the freaking mansion on the hill, she’s too far away to walk, more on the cusp of town than the center.
“Hey, Zee. Did we know you were coming by today?” She always thinks I have some ulterior motive for being here. That I can’t just want to see them or get some work done. It’s probably because I’m not here often.
“Inventory day.”
“Ah.” She nods and runs a rag over the counter. Though perhaps a bit unorthodox in both her dress and demeanor, she makes a good front of house. She likes to keep it neat and tidy, cleaning regularly, and though there can be snark to her, she’s friendly and outgoing.
She gets that from Dad.
Walking around the counter, I rest a hand on her shoulder as I head back to my closet office. I toss my purse onto the desk and turn to the filing cabinet. I keep separate lists for what we need for each part of the cafe. Things for Alina we tend to need to order more frequently than cups and lids for Liv.
The clipboard hangs on a hook on the back of the door, and I pull it off with a swift movement, snagging a pen from my desk and heading straight to the kitchen.
Alina’s elbow deep in batter, with flour in her chocolate curls. I’m not sure she’s ever here without flour somewhere on her person. And usually that same set of curls is what’s caked in the stuff.
“Hey, Leen.” I grab a raspberry off the counter in front of her and pop it in my mouth. A sweet, floral deliciousness fills my mouth.
“Hey, Maze. What brings you in today?” She mixes the bowl of whatever’s in front of her and huffs some hair from her face. Though she wears it pulled back, a few strands always fall loose. In fact, the more strands and spots of flour on her forehead, the harder she’s been working.
“Inventory. I’m going to start in here, if that’s okay?”
“Sure.”
“What are you making?” Curiosity gets the better of me. I usually don’t ask because it doesn’t matter, as anything she whips up is incredible. And I’m just happy to have her back. Now we can stop buying pastries from elsewhere and our regulars will be happy.
“Mixed berry muffins. Liv’s favorite.”
I wonder if she’d make my favorite if she knew I was going to be in. I wonder if she even knows what it is. Cinnamon crunch.
There’s a lot that I keep to myself because I don’t want to be too vulnerable with them. While they get to be just sisters, I have to keep that motherly role about myself. Though they’re not the young girls they were when I took over the parenting, they’re still my baby sisters.
“Can’t wait. So, tell me, what are you running low on?” I hold the clipboard, ready to scribble as she tends to ramble things off in quick succession.
“Flour, sugar, molasses, chocolate powder, baking soda, baking powder, eggs, always eggs, milk, butter. More muffin wrappers, we need brioche for the sandwiches, more hard rolls, lettuce, cheddar, Swiss, turkey, rye bread. Hm. I’m sure there’s more.”
I give her a second as I catch up writing everything down, my head bobbing as I try to remember it all.
“Oh! More paper for wrapping the sandwiches. And whatever fresh fruit you can get me.”
“Do you need any more of the jarred or canned stuff?”
She wrinkles her nose as she looks at me. “Nope. I try to use that as sparingly as possible. And since it’s spring, it should be getting into prime season.”
“Alright. What about the farmer’s market? Doesn’t that start again soon?” Late spring through early fall, there tends to be a farmer’s market just around the corner.
“Yeah, in a few weeks. I already have all the dates on my calendar.” Alina is picky about the fresh ingredients she uses. Even though she encouraged me to get her some, she’ll still pick through it for the best parts.
A few years ago, after we got into a major fight about how much she wastes from what I order, I encouraged her to seek out the farmer’s market and pick up what she can on the company credit card.
It helps keep our costs lower when it’s going because, while it may be slightly more expensive, we throw away far less. It also allows her to make some seasonal favorites. She did something with some fresh plums last year that was to die for.
As I’m checking the piles of to-go boxes and containers, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
Zach: I’m off Friday. Movie night?
A smile spans my face.
Me: Of course. Whose turn is it?
We have a long-standing tradition of movie nights on any Friday that Zach doesn’t have to work. Sometimes that’s three in a row, sometimes it’s not for six weeks.
Zach: I’m pretty sure it’s mine.
My eyes narrow, and I groan internally. He always picks scary movies, even though I don’t like them. More than once, he’s had to spend the night so that I could get some semblance of sleep. Most of the time, I watch the movie from between my fingers or behind a pillow.
And every time, Zach laughs at me. Yet he can’t seem to be bothered to pick a different genre.
Me: Ugh. Fine. What scary thing are you going to make me watch this time.
Zach: You’ll see ;)
Oh, great. A surprise so I can’t even look it up first.
“Tell Zach I say hi,” Alina sing-songs as I slide the phone back into my pocket.
“How did you know I was talking to Zach?”
She points her mixing spoon at me, batter dripping onto the counter. Her food may be delicious, but she’s a hot mess in the kitchen. “Because you only get that dopey smile on your face when you talk to him.”
“I do not get a dopey smile.” There’s little conviction to my tone as my cheeks heat. Zach has always brought out a certain reaction from me. He’s gorgeous and kind, muscular and sweet, tall and protective. What part isn’t meant to get the heart racing?
But we’re just friends. I’d always been his best friend’s little sister, but then at a certain point, we all started hanging out together. Then when Eli left for MIT and Zach stayed behind, we became even closer, a dynamic duo. It was rare then to find one of us without the other.
“For one, you definitely do. I don’t know what your hesitation is, Mazie. You two are clearly into each other and have been for years.”
“We’re just friends. Sure, we’re really close, but it ends at friendship.”
She rolls her eyes and sighs heavily. “Whatever you say.”
I chew on my lip and watch her spoon the batter into the muffin tins. She and Liv are always giving me a hard time that there’s more between me and Zach. And I always shrug them off. But then at the wedding, there seemed like there was something he wanted to tell me and wouldn’t. Or couldn’t.
I shake the thought away. No use getting my hopes up over nothing.