Chapter Two
Charlie paces the floor, swiping absently at the counters with her cloth but not really cleaning anything.
Koko’s stool creaks as he watches us both warily.
I don’t blame him. Charlie’s the overprotective type and quick to anger for the right reasons, so the bomb I just dropped has triggered all her kick-them-in-the-cooch energy.
The second Charlie started pacing, Koko sat down. Like yin and yang, Koko maintains their perfect balance staying calm and silent. The angrier Charlie becomes, the more stoic and unmoving Koko is.
“The police —” she starts and then shakes her head, knowing better than to think the Vale police worked for anyone other than Franz or their own self-interest. “Can’t this Mr Nagano or that Driscoll guy just shoot him in the head? That’d solve all their problems, too,” she reasons.
“You’d encourage people to become killers?”
“To keep you safe, I’d kill him myself!” she grunts.
My eyes sting. I struggle to swallow around the stone in my throat. “Why?” I ask.
“What do you mean, why? It’d keep you safe, and he deserves it. Scum of the Earth.”
“No, I mean, why would you fight so hard for me?”
Charlie dashes around the counter and wraps her arms around me. I can’t even bring myself to hug her back. I don’t deserve her or her kindness.
“Because you’re me. You’re where I was ten years ago. I had no one to fight for me, and maybe I would have made better choices sooner if I had. If I get to do for you what I wished someone had done for me, then maybe everything was worth it. You know?”
My response is a hiccupped sob, but Charlie only hugs me tighter.
“Plus, we’re pretty much family now. Who else would I trust in my home, in my business, with my gorgeous husband, to babysit the bun in my oven? You’re like a sister to me. But don’t tell my actual sister. She’s pretty territorial.”
I almost laugh and then I register what she just said. Holding Charlie away from me so I can look into her eyes, I watch as they twinkle like she’s brewing mischief and her cheeks flush. Koko makes a happy grumbling sound behind her, and it all clicks. “You’re pregnant?”
“Surprise!” she sings, throwing her arms in the air.
“Holy fuc—” I stare at her tiny, barely showing tummy and mind my manners. “Holy ducking snit!”
“Daddy Bear is officially going to become a daddy bear! I’m not too excited about losing my baby status, but mummy-bear suits me just fine.” She shares a long look with Koko and whispers, “Love you.”
“I love you too, baby.”
From the sheer affection radiating from his soft gaze, there’s no doubting how much he loves her back.
Which begs the question, “Why the hell did you let me tell her all that and get her riled up? You should have stopped me, Koko!” I back away from Charlie like my shit is contagious and glare at her gargantuan protector.
Koko shrugs. “Son or daughter, they’ll have her fire, and mine too. They’ll grow fierce and strong right from the start,” he announces, as if that makes any difference to anything. Stress is a major factor in pregnancy. Mum almost lost Casey because of the torment Eric put her through.
“And her blood pressure?”
“Is fine! Stop worrying. He coddles me all the damn time. A little grr isn’t going to hurt anything,” Charlie grumbles, swatting at me with the cloth she’s picked up again.
It’s too late to take it all back now, I guess. So, I need to get them to cover it up. Pretend to be na?ve. “Then swear to me you’ll play dumb if Franz ever comes looking for me.”
“About that…” There’s guilt in Charlie’s eyes and anger in Koko’s.
“They’ve been here already?” I guess.
“Day after you called.” Koko grunts in the affirmative. “Chased them off pretty fast.”
“We told them we fired you for not showing up three mornings in a row. My sister hanging around helped to prove it, too. They told us to call them if you ever showed up.” Charlie nods to the shreds of a business card pinned to the cork notice board, and probably the wall, by knives and skewers.
“Not sure we can even make out the number anymore. Oopsie.” Charlie grins, reaches in for another quick hug and then circles back to wiping the counters.
My phone buzzes against my breast. I wince and turn around to pull it out without giving either of them an eyeful.
“Did you just —?”
“I tucked it in my bra for safety earlier,” I explain without looking up.
“With how great your tits are today, I’m surprised you had any room,” Charlie teases.
“I’m going to take that as a compliment from the woman who’ll have ripe melons soon enough.” Koko guffaws and cleverly exits the kitchen to man the front, knowing the immediate danger is over.
I check the message on screen and feel guilty for not thinking of checking in sooner. It’s Dax.
I know where, but is it safe? Yes or No.
Yes.
Good. I’ll send someone when everything is clear.
Something uncoils in my shoulders the minute I know he’s got me.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Someone will pick me up when they think it’s safe,” I explain, tucking the phone in again. “Okay, put me to work.”
“Dressed like that?”
I take the jacket off. “Better?”
“Not much, no,” Charlie teases, throwing me an apron and nodding at my arms. I roll up my sleeves as per her unspoken command and look around.
It’s mid-afternoon, and things will be winding down out front.
They close around three p.m. on light days and today seems quieter than usual.
The counters are cluttered with the remnants of proving dough and the active yeast vats for the sourdough.
I get to work storing the finished buckets for tomorrow’s bread and cleaning any residual flour.
Charlie watches me for a minute and then disinfects the counters I’ve cleared up.
“Why do I get the feeling you’ve missed this?” she asks, nudging me out of the way with hip bumps.
“I have,” I admit to myself as much as her. “It’s only been a couple of days, but I’m already lost at sea. There was almost too much to do most days, and it was overwhelming but, I’ve gone from everything to nothing in a blink.”
“But you’re not accounting for all the new shit pulling you from stern to aft.”
“True.” But thinking about that, even just recalling what happened with Trainor this morning seems like a bad idea. “I’ve got to keep pushing forward. I can’t overload myself with things I can’t change. If I stop to think —”
“You might capsize? Run aground? Spring a leak?” She scrutinises me.
Her words are a tease, but only so she can dig at the truth without confronting it directly.
She’s trying to help, and she’s right. If I stop, I’ll fall apart.
It’s probably why I fought a small war with Dax just to get back on my course.
I asked for the improbable, and he surpassed it with the impossible. I should think of a way to thank him.
“Jules?”
“Sorry. Is all the above a reasonable answer?”
“It’s an honest one,” Charlie praises. “Just remember to deal with things a little at a time, Jules. If you keep shoving it all into the periphery, it’ll hit you like a tsunami the instant you make a sharp turn.”
“Aye, Captain,” I retort, hefting the sacks of flour back into dry storage.
The storage room is like a mini freezer with its thick floor and walls.
The door is like a bank safe—whether that is to stop thieves stealing the goods, or keep the Vale vermin out of the produce, I don’t know.
It’s usually my job to keep it tidy, and already I can see signs that Charlie needs me here.
She’s shoved the empty sacks back against the wall to deal with later rather than rolling them up and recycling them with Eskin Mill.
It’s the only place in Harrison that still uses the old, natural woven sacks.
They like the tradition of it all. Admittedly, it was my suggestion to hand them back each time we got a new delivery, and Charlie has a thing about teasing me and Gordy, the delivery driver. Is she saving these up for me?
I hear steps following and I spin to ask if she’s meddling again.
Except it’s not Charlie.
Ben shoves a large hand over my mouth and raises a finger to his lips.
I obey without question. He quietly closes the heavy door without shutting it completely and scans the room fast. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but a grim determination falls over his panicked expression as he eyes the empty sack in front of me.
“Take off the apron,” he whispers. I shuck it fast and hand it to him.
He slips it over his own head. “Get down low. Tuck in, cover your mouth, and close your eyes.” He points to the back corner of the room.
I’m not sure what his plan is, but when he pulls the empty sack out of my hands and shakes it, I get an inkling.
He quickly rubs the loose flour that falls between his hands and smudges a little across his face.
He mumbles an apology and then slips the sack over my head and pushes me a little lower until it covers my feet.
I hear him drag things around and am bumped twice as he presumably blocks me in with real sacks.
Noise swells from outside, like someone flipped a switch. I catch Charlie’s indignant shout, “You can’t go in there!” and then her sharp hiss of surprise.
“You said to put the flour away. Where else would I put it? Oh! Who are you?” Ben slips straight into role. No hesitation. His smooth, natural delivery suggests this isn’t the first time he’s tricked his way into or out of a situation.
“Are you the only one in here?” A bad-tempered, gritty voice demands.
“Do you see anyone else, mister? There’s barely enough room for all the flour this place uses, let alone me. Hey!”
A big sack of flour falls onto my side. A full one from the sheer weight pushing against me.
I take the impact and go with it, settling into a new position as steadily and naturally as possible.
Did the stranger throw it? Kick it? Whatever it was, the result seems to satisfy him as he grunts, “Clear!” to someone outside.