“Did Bev tell you I have another one? Paula painted them one afternoon just for fun for me. They were meant to be a set. Funny, this was long before I owned the bakery, way before the idea of this place even existed. We were two young New Yorkers who liked dessert. That’s why she made the cookies floating out like that. We were goofing around, I guess. When we still could. Goof around, I mean.” She looked wistful as she spoke, as if she were reminiscing about better days.
I shook my head, still stuck on her initial question.“Did Bev tell you I have another one?”I’d never been this close to finding my mom, or at least having more clues.
A chill ran up my spine and landed in the back of my neck. I ran my hand there, massaging out the excitement. Or was it anxiety? Still, I continued to hang on her every word, especially the mention of my mom’s name.
Sheila put her hand on her hip and jutted it out like a fashion model before explaining. “Of course, we didn’t eat cookies. We were too worried about our curves and dieting. If I knew now that none of it mattered, I’d have eaten the cookies.”
“Ha, well, I eat cookies. Bev will tell you that’s how we met. Over your PB&J cookie. It’s become a weakness of mine.”Among other things.
“Bonded ever since. All because of a cookie ... nothing to do with me,” Bev joked.
“I’m so happy Bev is branching out and making new friends,” Sheila said. “The last year hasn’t been easy for her. That’s why I said if you liked the painting so much, you could have the other one. Would you like it?”
Biting my tongue, I kept myself from shouting,“I would!”
Instead, I said politely, “I couldn’t do that. Maybe Paula wants it back. As a memory.”
“Pfft, no. I haven’t seen her in a few years, and I doubt she’d want it back. She left most of her past behind.”
“Oh, that’s sad,” I said, not knowing how to respond, thinking that was the most appropriate thing to say. The harsh reality was that I knew all about how Paula left things in her past.Including me.
A couple approached the counter, wanting a sweet treat, and Bev went to help them.
Her mom patted my arm. “Then it’s settled. Next time you and Bev get together, I’ll give her the painting for you. I have to go mingle. So great meeting you, Em. Is that okay? Calling you Em?”
The words stripped from my brain, I nodded like a brainless bat.
Her nickname brought me back to the present and thoughts of Price.
“See you in a bit,” Sheila said before taking off.
“Want a cookie?” Bev called to me.
I really wanted to lie down, close my eyes, and dream of my mom. Instead, I took a PB&J cookie and a closer look at the paintings.
The back pocket of my jeans buzzed. Price wasn’t one to give up easily.
Come on. I’m lonely.
He’d added a puppy emoji at the end, to which I replied:
You should get a puppy.
I should. Let’s go tomorrow and pick one out. I’ll adopt a lonely, abandoned pup.
He was relentless, I had to give him that.
I took off work tonight, so I’m working a double at the bar tomorrow.
So, let me take you tonight for some good food, and then we’ll get the pup on Sunday. You need to eat.
Loneliness and wanting to get away from the ghost looming behind the damn coffee-cup painting won, and I shot off a quick text.
Tell me where to meet you.
Nope, send me your location. I’ll come grab you in an Uber, and we’ll go.
I knew there was zero sense in arguing, so I complied, and then went about hanging around the counter with Bev until he texted
