Chapter 5
Eric
“On it,” I replied. “Thanks.”
My phone buzzed.
Asher: At the south rows. Fuel’s fine. Don’t worry.
I smirked at the “don’t worry” part and sent back. . .
Me: Keep your laces tied.
He sent a picture of tied boots and a middle-finger emoji made of pears. That actually made me laugh.
By ten, the sidewalk woke up: contractors, strollers, coffee regulars who didn’t need to say their order. I ran the oven while Maya kept the line moving. The new kid almost pulled a tray early; I lifted an edge with a spatula and shook my head. “Color first. Smell second. Timer last.”
Across the street, Sandy taped a small Festival Hours sheet inside the flower shop window. Harmony carried a crate to the counter and started trimming stems. She didn’t glance over. I didn’t either. We were neighbors. That was the deal.
A middle-aged guy in a fleece took his coffee and stared at our glass like the street owed him a story. “Hard to trust that flower shop,” he muttered to nobody in particular. “Bellerose’s kid.”
I set a to-go lid down a little harder than normal. “Hard to trust rumors,” I said casually. “Sandy runs a tight shop. What do you need, milk, sugar?” I asked, trying to keep my cool but I still felt my jaw pulsing.
He flushed, shrugged, and got out of the way.
Sandy popped in ten minutes later with a pint jar of greens for our counter.
“Good morning,” she greeted. She set the jar beside the register and lowered her voice just a touch.
“We’re fine. But if you hear anyone spinning stories, redirect them to me, not Harmony. ”
“I’m already there,” I replied. “Want coffee for the walk back?”
“Two smalls, double-double,” she ordered. “You know us.”
I poured them, added two blueberry scones to a paper bag, and handed it over. “For your morning mood.”
“Consider us bribed,” she teased, her grin quick and warm.
The morning kept a steady rhythm as a high-school teacher bought muffins for a rehearsal.
A landscaper ordered four cinnamon knots and called them “crew fuel.” Somewhere after nine, a Laurentian Community Trust guy stopped on the sidewalk, held his tablet up to check the little QR sticker they had us place near the door, took a picture of our street side, and moved along.
Boring, the way it should be. When the line cleared, I caught Harmony outside sweeping a few leaves from their step.
A woman I didn’t recognize walked by, slowed, and said, just loud enough, “You belong in prison with your father.” Then she kept going.
Harmony didn’t lift her head. She didn’t get a rise.
She finished the sweep, stepped inside, and got back to the counter like she didn’t hear a thing.
My jaw went tight anyway. I boxed a shortbread I didn’t need to box and set it down harder than necessary.
“Want me to take a treat across?” Maya asked, reading me. She clearly heard the comment too.
“Later,” I said.
At eleven, Dad walked in. He did what he always does, checking the exits, corners, faces, then leaned on the counter like a normal customer.
“Bean texted,” he said, referring to my younger sister’s nickname. “Don’t let anyone talk you into a roof you can see from space. These guys sound fancy but good.”
I wanted to laugh at how my dad was getting involved in my build like I couldn’t handle it alone.
“I want a roof that keeps rain out,” I quipped. “That’s my whole list. Nothing fancy, just something sturdy and mine.”
His hand landed on my shoulder, solid and brief. “You look better.”
“I stole an extra hour of sleep last night.”
“Keep it,” he urged, and headed out.
My phone buzzed.
Isabelle: Contractor A’s good with orchards and radiant floors. Contractor B is careful but slow. Luc says A. Also, eat something green.
I snapped a picture of the pint jar Sandy left.
Me: Handled. She attached a laughing emoji.
Isabelle: I’m so excited for the wedding. Elyna called and said they decided on a chocolate cake.
Me: I would know, Thorne’s Bakehouse is making it.
She replied with a dagger emoji and a heart. I grinned into the oven. I couldn’t believe my baby sister was a married woman. Where was the time flying? I was always so absorbed in work and volunteering that it just felt like my life was passing me by.
Around twelve, I saw a woman in her late twenties stop at the florist’s door with a flyer in her hand.
Harmony stepped outside to talk to her. They stood shoulder to shoulder a minute.
Harmony nodded, wrote something on the bottom of the page, and pointed down Main toward the community center.
When the woman left, Harmony pinned a second flyer on the front door.
I couldn’t see what it said, so I headed outside to check the window again, like an idiot.
She was going to think I was stalking her.
I had to stop watching her. Now that I was closer, I saw it said, Val-Du-Lys Youth Outreach—Mentors Needed.
Under it, in pen: Tues/Thurs 4–6 p.m. at the Community Center.
That tracked. If there was a way to make up for the past that wasn’t hers, she’d take it.
Teens at the center were loud and honest. They’d decide fast if they trusted you.
I had a good feeling they’d trust her. Maya lined up pastry boxes for the noon orders.
“Want me to add the community center to Thursday’s delivery of donations? ” she asked.
“Yeah,” I answered. “Two trays. Basic stuff. I’ll run it over.”
“Got it. That’s nice of you, boss. Always giving back.”
A little after twelve, Harmony stepped out with a small arrangement for pickup.
A man in a fleece cut across the sidewalk and said something I couldn’t hear and wouldn’t want to.
Harmony didn’t flinch. She handed her customer the flowers and went back inside.
I felt the old urge to step in and make it stop.
I kept my place. She chose to come home.
She got to run her own day. Still, I added an extra coffee to the afternoon tray I’d take over because a part of me understood why she left without looking back, but a heads-up would have been nice.
Maybe a phone number too. Something that would have let me know she was okay.
Near four, I loaded two trays and drove them over to the community center.
The gym smelled like freshly polished floor.
A volunteer checked the list and took the boxes.
Harmony wasn’t there yet; her shift started now.
As I headed out, a boy about fourteen hesitated by the door, hands in his sweatshirt pocket, eyes on my logo. “You the bakery?”
“Yeah.”
He nods at the tray. “Do you guys hire after school?”
“Sometimes,” I replied. “Ask for Maya. She’ll tell you what we’ve got.”
He looked relieved, like that answer was heavier before it came out. “Thanks.”
On the way back, I passed Harmony walking with her bag, hair pulled back, cheeks pink from the chill. She slowed when we crossed. For a second it was like it was before. Then it wasn’t.
“Eric, what are you doing here?” she asked.
“I saw the flyer and figured the kids could use some treats. Or maybe the mentors can use the treats to bribe them,” I said with a crooked grin.
“Thanks, it’s a really nice gesture,” she replied. I hated it felt like there was a barrier the size of the Great Wall of China between us.
“Yeah, well, I can’t volunteer my time. I got a lot on my plate,” I said.
She sighed. “I need to do something to help. I knew this town wasn’t going to welcome me back with open arms, but a part of me wanted to be accepted.. Montreal never did feel like home, although Val-Du-Lys stopped feeling like home too until. . .”
Her green eyes locked with mine. I swallowed, feeling an ache in my chest.
“Anyway,” she blinked, “I’m trying to find my place.”
“I can understand that. I think the kids are going to love you,” I said to her and my words did something to soften her, because then she gave me the slightest smile that did something to my insides.
Life didn’t cut Harmony any slack, but she was tough.
She’d find her rhythm. What she needed was kindness from people, not the harsh words they were dishing her way.
“I should head in.” She pointed to the gym.
I nodded and we left it there.
Back on Main Street, Sandy had a slip ready for me. “Library asked if you’d do a ‘life skills night’ next month,” she says. “Basic baking for teens. Harmony could show simple bouquets on a budget. They want a double session.” Her mention of Harmony’s name felt a little transparent.
“Are you being a peacekeeper now? Because Harmony and I are fine,” I assured.
“No such thing, I don’t know much about you two, but what I do know is the spark ignited fast and burned out too quickly,” she said.
I didn’t know if her understanding of our history was accurate. I didn’t think the fire ever truly burned out between us. Maybe that’s why I was having a hard time not thinking about her.
“Okay, yeah, I’ll do it,” I agreed.
“Thatta boy,” she laughed.
I laughed too.
Late afternoon, Becket stopped by the bakery for a coffee and donut since he was in the area. “Saw Harmony working with the at-risk teens. They seem to have been taken by her,” he said and then he watched me.
It was easy to be taken by Harmony, there was something about her. She was stubborn, beautiful, and always stood on her moral ground.
“Yeah, figured as much,” I said, chewing my lip.
“Heard you took some baked goods over there,” he added, eyeing me like I was under investigation.
“Don’t read into it, little brother. I was just doing a nice deed, knowing the program was running today,” I assured.
“Okay,” he answered like he didn’t mean anything by it.
By half past six, I was getting ready to close the shop.
Maya was packaging all the items that were left over from the day.
I noticed Harmony walking down Main Street toward the floral shop.
She had her head held high and she was walking with a quiet confidence that looked earned.
That brought a smile to my face as Maya walked up behind me and took a peek at what I was looking at.
“It must be hard for her to be back here. Everyone’s talking,” she said.
“People like to talk, but they don’t know her. She isn’t like her family,” I replied, feeling the need to defend her. Not that Harmony needed me to. She could take care of herself.
“I can tell. Beneath her hard edges is a soft heart. A good person. I can tell, I have women’s intuition,” she said.
That made me laugh. “You aren’t wrong but enough analyzing other people.”
Maya laughed and grabbed her purse. “Have a good night, boss. Hope you don’t wait too long to make a move. A good woman is hard to find. Someone else might snatch her up.”
“Go home, Maya,” I joked.
That made Maya laugh more as she left through the front door.
At home, Dad was on the front porch going through Phoenix’s tasting notes. He didn’t say much. “How was the day?” he asked.
“Usual. Nothing special. Harmony is volunteering with the at-risk kids at the community center,” I said.
My dad watched me with his dark eagle eyes. “You okay with her being back? I know it’s been a long time.”
“You asked me that when she came home last winter,” I mention.
“That was when trouble was knocking on her doorstep. She didn’t have anywhere to go,” he reminded.
“And I was fine then too. Hell, you didn’t ask me when you invited her to spend the night in our house,” I retorted. I wasn’t angry, I just didn’t like him pushing me on the topic.
“She had nowhere to go back then,” he stated the obvious.
“I’m not complaining now and I wasn’t complaining then,” I assured.
“Okay,” he said in a tone like he didn’t believe me.
Maybe I didn’t believe myself. She was the one who got away.
At least, that’s how I always felt. I’d never had that kind of closeness with a woman since.
Sure, I had my share of entertaining a lady for the night but nothing ever stuck, and maybe that was for the best.
I sorted through mail, ate a late dinner, and looked over two contractor emails Bean forwarded. I flagged both messages and shut the laptop. Building a house would be a good distraction for me.
Before bed, I checked my phone.
Unknown number: Tell your friend she’s not better than family. I didn’t answer. I saved the number, named it Do Not Reply, and let the screen go black.
From the upstairs windows I watched the frost settle over the orchard.
You couldn’t fix a past you didn’t break.
You could decide who you were now. She was doing that.
I could too. I blinked the thought away and headed to the shower, allowing the warm water to settle over me.
After I headed to my room and slipped on a pair of flannel pants.
I set my alarm, killed the lights and let the dark do its job.
I’d need to tell Becket about that text message tomorrow.
I wished Harmony’s family would just let her be, but that seemed like too much to ask.
I guess that was how it was with crime families.
Hell, my own family was always on my case, so why would her family be different?
I know it wasn’t the same because mine did it from love and hers did it from loyalty.
At some point they needed to accept the decisions we made.
But what would it take for Harmony’s family to truly let her go?
I didn’t have the answer to that. I just hoped the fallout would be smooth.