SAGE
Sage exhaleda heavy breath as an unexpected truth settled in her heart.
She was going to miss this place.
The warm, velvety rays of sunrise streamed through the large front windows, bathing CeCe’s café in soft sepia tones. Sage blinked back tears as the familiar shapes of polished tabletops and plump, cozy armchairs nestled around a smooth stone fireplace blurred before her eyes.
She’d taken the part-time job at CeCe’s to pay the bills, but it had become so much more. She’d miss the quiet lull before the doors opened to customers, when baker extraordinaire, CeCe Dupree, filled the entire café with the most mouthwatering aromas, from savory sourdough to sweet beignets. She didn’t even mind the 5 a.m. wail of her alarm clock since it meant an hour of one-on-one time with her busy best friend before the first customer bustled through the front door.
“Are yousurethis is a good idea?” CeCe burst through the swinging door from the kitchen, her arms laden with a tray of fresh-from-the-oven baguettes.
“No. It’s a terrible idea. But I don’t really have a choice.” She’d just finished regaling CeCe with the details of Edwin Mackensie’s proposition, and her friend still couldn’t wrap her head around the absurd assignment, although she’d given her the next three days off despite her reservations.
“But you and Flynn. Alone. For three whole days.” CeCe shook her head, nearly undoing her disheveled topknot of thick black hair. “That’s like putting the Romulans and Klingons on the same starship and not expecting a bloodbath.”
Sage laughed. “I don’t know what concerns me more. That you’re right, or that I finally understand your geekyStar Trekreferences.”
“I knew ourNext Generationmarathon would pay off.” CeCe grinned and slid a baguette into a crinkling brown paper sleeve. She added the still-steaming bread to the cavernous canvas tote bag bursting with half a dozen other loaves she’d already stuffed inside, amplifying their buttery scent.
“But seriously.” CeCe met her gaze across the lacquered cedar countertop, worry reflected in her wire-rimmed glasses. “Doesn’t the fact that you’ll be stuck on a sailboat together seem sort of morose given your history?”
Sage twisted her finger around the handle of her coffee mug, willing the unwanted memories away. If she concentrated hard enough, she barely even remembered the day Flynn left her standing alone on the dock, desperately clinging to the fractured remnants of her shattered heart. “That was a long time ago. We were kids. He’s moved on. I’ve moved on. It’s all in the past.”
CeCe raised an eyebrow. “So, I guess we’re going to pretend like I believe you?”
“That would be great.” Sage shot her friend a wry grin, hoping to lighten the mood.
CeCe rolled her eyes but returned the smile, anyway. “I’ll let it slide this time. But when the next three days are over, we’re going to overanalyze every single detail until we’ve talked for so long, we’ve both lost our voices. Got it?”
“‘Make it so.’” Sage saluted, quoting the catchphrase of CeCe’s favoriteStar Trekcaptain, Jean-Luc Picard.
“I’m not sure you’re using that right, but I appreciate the effort.” CeCe laughed, loading a pastry box with profiteroles before dusting them with confectioners’ sugar. Thanks to her overzealous sifting, the silky white powder plumed from the sieve, speckling her dark skin like freshly fallen snow.
Sage resisted the urge to reach across the counter and brush aside the flecks, capturing the mental image instead. CeCe’s bright, unfiltered smile. The apron that readMade of Pie Crust and Stardust. The way her onyx eyes always seemed to look right through her, to her heart and soul.
CeCe was the one person who knew all her secrets, dreams, and hidden heartaches. She’d been there for her when Kevin’s accidental drowning devastated the entire town. And then when Flynn left Blessings Bay without a single word, least of all a goodbye.
Through it all, CeCe remained ever faithful, ever steady. What would she do without her?
Tears welled in her eyes again. “Maybe I shouldn’t go. Maybe opening a bookstore on a sailboat is a bad idea.”
“It’s a great idea,” CeCe assured her. “I’m sorry I filled your head with second thoughts. Don’t worry about Flynn. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“It’s not that. Well, notjustthat. But on the off chance this wild scheme doesn’t end in total disaster, we won’t work together anymore. I’m not sure I’m ready for that much change. I’ll miss you too much.”
“The change will be a good thing. Besides, we’ll still see each other all the time. The marina is only a stone’s throw away. Literally. I could throw a rock from my patio and hit your sailboat.”
“I guess.” Sage tried to smile, but once she opened her bookshop—ifshe opened her bookshop—they’d both be business owners with endless responsibilities. A reality that simultaneously thrilled and intimidated her. Although, it was usually the latter. Especially when her ever-present insecurities whispered familiar phrases likeYou’re not good enough. What makes you think you can do this? You’ll probably fail.
CeCe finagled the pastry box into the overstuffed bag, then stuck a full pound of coffee on top.
“You realize I’ll only be on board theMarvelous Mirafor three days,” Sage reminded her. “And Edwin Mackensie offered to provide all the essentials, even groceries. You don’t have to pack half the bakery.”
“Except you can’t cook. And without coffee, you’re crankier than a Cardassian with a neck cramp.” CeCe rattled off anotherStar Trekreference as if her extreme level of nerdiness was normal. “Flynn’s already incurred your wrath. He won’t stand a chance if you’re uncaffeinated, too.”
“Fair enough,” Sage conceded, ignoring the way her stomach clenched at the mention of Flynn’s name. “Thanks for giving me the time off, especially on such short notice.”
“Of course! If it means you finally get to open your bookstore, I’m on board. Pun intended,” CeCe teased. “Besides, I’ve heard about Edwin Mckensie’s eccentric shenanigans, but I’ve never been this close to one. I kinda want to see how it plays out.”
