Chapter Two THE NEW MAN IN TOWN Charlotte #2
“It means we get to sleep in a little,” Mrs. Knox had said with a clumsy wink when she’d explained it.
Charlotte didn’t mention how she regularly fell asleep at dawn during her time with the korrigans, or that waking up before it was difficult for her.
She was too grateful to have something to do—something that earned her a little coin, so she didn’t feel so guilty taking so much from her brother, even though he insisted he needed no payment from her.
By the time Charlotte had finished with the scones, Mrs. Knox was already on to her signature biscuits, having also started the cakes while Charlotte worked.
“You’ll get faster with time,” said Mrs. Knox. She never seemed to mind how long it took Charlotte. Charlotte supposed she had managed without help for all those years. Even if she was slow, she had to enable Mrs. Knox to do a bit more, at least.
“Mrs. Knox?” she asked as she emptied a jar of strawberry jam into a bowl to serve with the scones. “Why did you decide to hire someone after all that time alone?”
She’d never thought to ask before.
Mrs. Knox paused her rolling pin to answer.
“I always said I was going to. I’d hire someone so I could take a trip to Gallia to try the sweets they sell in those pretty patisseries you read about in the papers, or so I could go to one of the fairy restaurants in the city, or maybe just to the beach in Sudport for a weekend. But I never did.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. The timing was never right.
Too busy, not busy enough. No one looking for work, too many people looking for work that I would have felt bad for turning them away.
But I’m getting older now. I’m not ready to hang up the towel yet, but I’ll have to someday.
And when I do, I don’t want it to be forgotten, all the things I make here.
They’re family recipes, almost all of them, or things I read about and spent months or years perfecting.
I don’t want them to go just because I have. So that’s why you’re here.”
Charlotte didn’t know what to say. She’d suspected Mrs. Knox had just been lonely, or that maybe that her hands were getting tired with age.
She hadn’t known Mrs. Knox was hoping to give the shop to someone someday. Maybe to her.
“I hope that isn’t too much pressure,” said Mrs. Knox when Charlotte didn’t say anything. “It’s all a long way off. You could get married and move away between now and then. But for what it’s worth, I’m glad I took you on. You have a knack for it, baking.”
“I’ve got something new I’ve been trying out,” admitted Charlotte. She hadn’t planned on telling Mrs. Knox about the brownies until the recipe was perfected, but the moment felt right. “It’s not quite ready yet, but I think you’ll like it once it is. You don’t have to sell it or anything.”
Mrs. Knox turned away from her biscuit dough to look at Charlotte. The flour dusting her cheeks didn’t conceal their rosy glow of pride in her apprentice. “I’m sure I’ll love it. I can’t wait to try it.”
Later that day, Charlotte opened the shop, but the usual morning rush didn’t arrive.
“That’s odd,” said Mrs. Knox. “We were so busy all last week. It’s usually our busiest time of the year, the lead up to Winter Solstice. I wonder where they all are.”
Charlotte left her spot behind the counter and walked out into the street.
There were people coming and going in their winter coats and scarves, parcels and packages in hand as they went from store to store and into the market square beyond, stocking up for the Solstice.
A light snow had begun to fall, but that didn’t seem to deter any of the crowds from anywhere but the bakery.
There was something odd, though. Charlotte could smell baking—croissants or some other very buttery pastry, to be exact—coming from across the street.
“See anything?” asked Mrs. Knox, who had come out to join her.
Charlotte pointed to the shop. It had long been empty, but now a queue had formed outside the door.
“It looks like they’ve finished moving in, then. I saw a carriage unloading last week, but they had gone before I could greet them. Can you read the sign from here?”
“Cheese Shop, it says,” said Charlotte. The sign hanging above the door was new and hastily painted. “There’s something else in small letters.”
She crossed the street to get a better look.
“And Baked Goods,” called back Charlotte, her heart sinking.
Who would move in and open a bakery right across the street from Mrs. Knox’s?
Charlotte moved towards the door. Nigel Smalls, the bard she often ran into at the inn, was waiting in the queue.
“Bad luck about the shop, but I’ve heard the cheese croissants are to die for. I had to come and try them for myself. Nothing against Mrs. Knox, of course, but it is nice to have something new now and again,” he said, clapping Charlotte on the shoulder cordially.
Charlotte shook off Nigel’s hand and peered into the window.
There behind the counter, handing out cheese croissant after cheese croissant, was someone she thought she’d never see again.
Julian.