The glass front door, which wasn’t broken in the shootout, jiggles. Someone pulling on it trying to get in. Then someone knocks, a fist making contact with the glass. The sound echoes through the entire bakery and I freeze. My heart kicks into overdrive as adrenaline has me flatten against the wall. Slowly… because I’m not sure who is on the other side of the door and the last time I was here someone shot at me, so I’m not in a real hurry to answer it… I creep to the swinging kitchen doors. I drop to the floor and in true ninja fashion scurry from the kitchen to behind the counter working to keep my body hidden. It’s way too soon for Bennett to be back and Tabitha won’t be here for another hour.
The knocking continues so I crawl to the edge of the counter where a small chunk of wood is missing that I don’t remember before. I try to think of reasons the gash could be there that don’t include a bullet, but fail. I stick my head off to the side enough to see through the glass opening. I release the breath I’d been holding and slouch against the counter.
Pearl, in another one of her glorious tie-dye heavy dresses, raises her fists and bangs on the glass door again. The many sparkly bangles she has on her wrist scratching at the glass.
“I’m coming!” I yell and jump up to open the door before Pearl’s bracelets gouge my glass and I have to order more from Mack.
She barrels on past me carrying a Pyrex dish, a bright pink cover on top. “It’s about time. Why is the door locked? How are people going to get in?”
“Um… I’m not open right now.”
“Why the hell not?” Once inside she turns and thrusts the container into my arms. “I figured you might be low on lunch items so I brought some brownies. They aren’t the special kind.” She winks before leaving me to my own devices and taking a seat in her favorite chair.
“Well, thank you. I think.”
“Those brownies have won first place and more Pelican Bay blue ribbons at the fair than any other entry. So many that jackass, Pierce’s father, barred me from entering them anymore. The father’s the jackass not so much Pierce. Jury’s still out on that boy.”
I drop the brownies on the counter, the glass dinging. “Oh…”
“How long until the coffee’s done?”
I look behind me into the cold and empty coffee pot sitting lifeless on the counter. “Couple minutes,” I say flipping the switch on.
“Let me get a knife to cut these.” I start toward the kitchen when the bell above the door stalls my steps.
Tabitha, wearing a black T-shirt with a gold glitter unicorn above the words ‘I live in a made-up world,’ steps through the door. “I brought pasta salad,” she announces.
Pearl and I both cringe at the same time with almost identical faces. “Did you make it?” Pearl has the courage to ask.
Tabitha rolls her eyes with a huff. “Fine, Ridge did. It’s his secret recipe.” She leaves the large red Tupperware bowl on the counter next to the brownies.
“I’m still mad at you,” I say wiping down the side of the counter just in case someone missed a spot.
“Me?” she asks, a hand to her chest. “What did I do?”
I stop wiping and widen my eyes at her in disbelief. “Thanks for telling me Bennett has a son.”
“Oh that.” She shrugs, her face scrunching up. “It wasn’t my place to tell.”
“Everyone knows Bennett has a son. If you were part of the phone tree, you’d know this already,” Pearl clucks the reprimand from her seat.
Tabitha smiles. “See? The phone tree,” she says like it answers everything. “I’ll turn on the stove and we can get this party started.”
What is happening to my life?
I’m stuck standing in the exact same spot. “I wasn’t planning to open until lunch. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Absolutely not, young lady. We haven’t had any place to go for days. This bakery needs to be open within an hour.”
“An hour?” I chuckle. That’s absolutely impossible.
“Yes, an hour. How long does it take to make some coffee, cut up a few brownies and stick them on a cute plate?”
She has a point.
With renewed determination — although I’m not sure how long that will last — I edge back toward the coffeemaker and put the filter and grounds in the top.
The door dings and in walks Trish, the owner of the town’s only diner, Bonnie’s. At first I worried she would consider me competition, but she’s been nothing but pleasant the few months I’ve been open. Today her eyebrows squeeze together and she walks with a mean set of determination in her step. When she gets to my counter, she pulls out three large bags of bagels from an oversized canvas tote bag.
