Chapter Four THE OTHER BAKER Charlotte
Chapter Four
THE OTHER BAKER
Charlotte
Charlotte wasn’t sure how she’d recognized Julian straight away. It must have been twenty years since that Winter Solstice night when she’d seen him last. When she’d run from him before he could see her.
He was taller now, even taller than he’d appeared in the window that night. Broader, too, though still on the lean side for his height. His skin was the same warm brown Charlotte remembered, and he still wore his black hair closely cropped to his head, but he’d grown a light beard now as well.
It suited him.
“He looks familiar,” said Mrs. Knox as she joined Charlotte across the street. “Not one of our regulars, but maybe I served him at the Midsummer Festival?”
“No,” said Charlotte. “He lived in town once. A long time ago. I wasn’t around when his family left, but he may have been just a child then.”
Mrs. Knox grabbed Charlotte by the arm. “It isn’t. Tell me that isn’t Julian Blair.”
“I think it is,” said Charlotte, tucking a strand of her silver hair behind her ear.
“Oh, well, that changes everything! You and Julian spent so much time together at the shop. It must have made an impression on him too. This is all a misunderstanding. Let’s go clear things up with him.”
Mrs. Knox tugged Charlotte forward, but she didn’t move.
“Come on,” said Mrs. Knox. “Unless you think it isn’t a good idea.”
“No,” said Charlotte, backing away. “I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by opening the shop. But I have to go. I have to—”
Charlotte ran back into Mrs. Knox’s bakery, straight through the shop, past a sole customer waiting at the counter, and into the backroom, where she slammed the door behind her.
Charlotte’s pulse pounded in her ears. Her chest was tight; she couldn’t seem to get a good breath.
What was Julian doing here? Charlotte knew he had left Herot’s Hollow a long time ago.
It had taken her years to work up the nerve to come back into town—at night, of course, while everyone was sleeping—but when she did, there were strangers living in his family’s house, and a charity shop had moved in downstairs.
Why had he come back here? And why had he opened up a bakery of all things?
“Well, that was a waste of time,” said Mrs. Knox when she returned. “Managed to sell three loaves of bread to Mr. Rainey there, though. He’s got a full house at the inn. What’re you doing on the floor?”
Charlotte had lowered herself to the ground near one of the cupboards. “Just catching my breath.”
“Are you alright, girl? You look a bit peaky.” Mrs. Knox rested the back of her hand on Charlotte’s forehead.
Charlotte gently pushed it away and got back on her feet. She could go through the crisis of what to do about seeing Julian again after work. “I’m fine. Did he not remember you?”
“Oh, he remembered me, alright. Said he didn’t mean to do me any harm, but he needs the ‘baked goods’ to bring people into the shop.
It’s the cheese he’s really wanting to sell, and the wine.
The croissants are just meant to get folks in the door.
I asked him if that meant he’d give them up once folk in the town know he’s there, and he said, ‘We’ll see. ’”
The cheer had slowly drained from Mrs. Knox’s voice as she spoke. A scowl set into the lines of her face. For the first time since she’d started working there, Charlotte could see Mrs. Knox’s age.
“It’s not like I’ve never had competition before. But just across the street, and at the busiest time of the year. And just as I’ve taken on my first employee…”
Her eyes flashed at Charlotte, and Charlotte realized what she meant: if the bakery didn’t recover, there was a chance Mrs. Knox would have to let her go.
“I’m sure it will be fine. We make far more than croissants here. Once the novelty wears off, they’ll be back. You’ll see.”
Charlotte made a decision then that she hoped she wouldn’t regret. “I’ll go and speak to him.”
Mrs. Knox tried (unsuccessfully) to hide her delight. “Oh! Well, if you could. I’m sure it couldn’t hurt. You two were as thick as thieves from what I remember.”
Charlotte nodded slowly, dazed.
Mrs. Knox grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “It’ll be alright, girl. He’ll be glad to see you. Don’t worry.”
Charlotte shot Mrs. Knox a grateful look. Then she pulled herself up and pushed herself out of the bakery before she could change her mind
The line had gone by the time she made it to the cheese shop. She stood at the door, her hand on its brass handle, and looked through the glass.
Julian leaned against the wall behind the counter. He look tired but satisfied, a small smile on his lips, his eyes gently closing.
They snapped open at the sight of Charlotte.
Julian stood up straight, brushing his hands on his apron, and he gestured at Charlotte to come in.
Charlotte felt her pulse pound in her throat. Did he recognize her?
She willed her hand to turn the knob. For Mrs. Knox, she thought. For the bakery. For my job.
“Hello, Miss,” said Julian. His voice was warm and rich and deep, far deeper than Charlotte had been expecting. “I’m almost out of the croissants, but I’ve saved one here just for you.”
He winked one of his big brown eyes. It wrinkled the skin at its corner pleasantly. Just for you, he’d said.
He must have remembered her.
Charlotte’s legs felt as though they were made of lead as she dragged them to the counter.
She became suddenly aware of herself—the flour on her apron, the silver hair coming loose from its bun, her hands rough from kneading dough and frequent washing.
She should have gone home and straightened up before coming here.
This isn’t how she wanted him to see her for the first time. For the first time since…
“I promise I don’t bite,” said Julian with a chuckle. “Try the croissant. Go on.”
Julian reached beneath the counter and pulled out a gorgeous croissant in a piece of brown paper.
The pastry was a lovely golden color, flaky and perfectly rolled.
Charlotte knew the work that went into laminating the dough, knew the trick of keeping the butter cold to stop the layers from going flat.
She’d made croissants at least four times a week since she’d started at Mrs. Knox’s three months earlier, but she had never made a croissant that looked this good, not even on her best day.
“It’s not poison,” said Julian as Charlotte hesitated. “I made it fresh this morning. There’s a Gallic cheese inside. It’s quite strong, a little gamey, but it goes nicely with the butteriness of the pastry. You aren’t allergic, are you?”
“No, I…” said Charlotte, then she took a bite when she could think of nothing else to say.
Oh, dear. It wasn’t just good. It was heaven.
Charlotte watched the smile spread across Julian’s lips as he watched her eat. “Not bad, is it?”
Not bad? “It’s insane. The salt, the butter—is that a bit of pepper in there too?”
“Just a pinch. They were meant to have ham, but my delivery has been delayed. I thought they need something to give that savory bite.”
“It really works,” said Charlotte with her mouth full.
Julian laughed. “I can see that.”
Charlotte was already eating the last bite. She didn’t mean to eat it so quickly, but it was just too damn good to stop. She looked back at him, embarrassed.
“I’m glad you liked it,” he said. “You know, I thought I knew just about every pretty young lady in town. Are you new around here?”
Charlotte froze.
He didn’t recognize her then. And did he say pretty?
“I’m guessing you’re a baker as well. Mrs. Knox’s daughter? Or niece, perhaps? The silver hair is unusual. Fairy ancestry?”
Charlotte swallowed the last of the croissant. She needed to say something. But what? She scrambled for a lie. Maybe she’d go with what he’d said: a niece of Mrs. Knox. The fairy ancestry wasn’t too far from the truth; the korrigans and the fairies were closely related.
But it wouldn’t do. He was here now, and by the looks of the shop, he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. If she lied, he’d just find out the truth from someone else in town.
No, she was just going to have to be brave and tell him the truth.
If she could face Keir, if she could admit to him what she’d done after everything she put him through, she could do the same for Julian.
Her best friend in the whole world. “I’m not new in town, not exactly.
I lived here long ago, the same as you.”
Julian cocked his head to one side. “You know who I am then. It seems I’m at a disadvantage.” He looked her up and down, trying to place her. “I don’t remember any silver-haired girls in town, and I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t have forgotten you.”
Charlotte felt the heat of his gaze. Was he flirting with her? She laughed in spite of her nerves. If he knew who she was… “I look a bit different now, and I go by a different name. My name is Charlotte, but you once called me Danny.”
“Danny?” Julian repeated, confused. And then: the dawning look of recognition. That’s the one, thought Charlotte.
The smile vanished from Julian’s face. He stumbled backwards, his hand grasping for something to hold onto but finding only air. “No. It can’t be. Danny died. Everyone said Danny was dead.”
Charlotte took a deep breath. Of course he had thought she was dead. They all had.
Julian was hunched over against the wall behind the counter. He looked utterly broken. Here he had stood just minutes earlier looking perfectly content, and now this. This is what she had done to him.
She couldn’t do this. The guilt overwhelmed her. She had let her best friend in the whole world think she was dead. He was just a child, too. How must it have felt for him when she didn’t come back?
How could she have been so selfish?
“Is it really you?” Julian’s voice was tiny. It was the voice of eight-year-old Julian. Of the boy that still lived inside of this man’s body.
There was no going back. There was no taking away that little boy’s pain. But maybe she could give the gift of closure to the man. It wasn’t enough, but it was all she had to give. “Julian, it’s me.”
Julian’s eyes lifted to meet hers on the mention of his name. For the briefest moment, she could see the glisten of a tear before he blinked it away. “You’re alive.”
“I’m alive.”
“And you’re…” Julian gestured to Charlotte’s body.
“I’m Charlotte,” she said.
“Well, Charlotte,” said Julian. “Tell me everything.”
Charlotte told Julian everything that had happened to her. He had already known what things were like for her at home, so it wasn’t that much of a surprise to him to learn that she’d chosen to let everyone believe she was dead rather than return there.
“But you could have told me,” he said. He had sat her down at a table in the front of the shop. When a customer came, he helped them, but not before begging her to stay until they left. “I wouldn’t have told anyone. You know that, right?”
Charlotte had thought about it many times. “I knew you wouldn’t tell, not intentionally, anyway. But someone might have seen us together. I couldn’t risk being seen. It would have given me away.”
“But you could have sent the korrigans to get me. Or you could have come yourself after you changed. I doubt anyone would have recognized you then. I didn’t.”
Charlotte smirked. “I could tell you didn’t recognize me.”
Julian’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry if I was a bit…forward. You’re just…” He looked down at his hands as if they were very interesting, as if he wasn’t humiliated at all. Not in the slightest. He cleared his throat.
Charlotte’s ears were hot. He was attracted to her, that was plain to see. And she would’ve had to have been blind not to see how handsome he’d become. Gods, that beard…but they were friends. Long lost friends, reunited at last, and that meant more than any fleeting attraction could.
“You were always wearing those dresses, even back then. I knew it was a joke, but I also knew it wasn’t. I’m surprised to see you again, but I’m not surprised you’re a woman. If that makes sense.”
“But you’re surprised that I’m a pretty woman,” said Charlotte. She wasn’t sure why she was repeating it. She was teasing him, she decided. As friends do. “Don’t worry; that surprised me as well.”
“Yes, well, you already know what I think. You let me make that clear. A couple of times.”
“Sorry,” said Charlotte, grinning. “I couldn’t resist.”
“Charlotte?” Julian grabbed her hand from across the table, and the years were gone. He was Julian, holding her hand to help her up the tree on Orchard Lane. Julian, running with her in the fields by Weldan House chasing rabbits. Julian, the sun on his brown skin, his laughter on the summer breeze.
“I’m so glad to have you back.”
“Well?” asked Mrs. Knox when Charlotte returned. “What did he say?”
The bakery. Charlotte hadn’t even mentioned the bakery. “Oh Gods, I forgot—”
“It’s alright, girl,” said Mrs. Knox, pulling her into a hug. “Are you alright?”
Was she alright?
“I’m great. I’m…wonderful.”
“Oh, I’m happy to hear it. I told you. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Charlotte pulled back from the hug. She took Mrs. Knox’s hand. “I’ll go back there tomorrow and talk to him about the bakery. I’m sure he’ll listen.”
Tomorrow, then. After twenty years apart, twenty lost and lonely years, she’d see him again.
Tomorrow.