“What can I get you today?” A bubbly blonde wearing a bright pink apron with the name Anessa embroidered into the front asked before I even reached the counter.
“Well…” I took a step back. I knew I wanted to get her something sweet, but I hadn’t thought any further to determine whether she’d prefer a cupcake or cookie. “I’m not sure yet.”
Her smile only grew as if she received this response often. “Are you thinking a big box or little one?”
“Excuse me?” I asked, looking around to make sure she wasn’t speaking to anyone else.
I hadn’t set foot in this building since I lived in Pelican Bay as a child. Back then it wasn’t a bakery but a mismatched assortment of everything else. It was hard to keep a business going even with the perfect corner location on Main Street. Pierce picked up the building for cheap, and I drew up the contract when he purchased it. Other than that, I hadn’t dealt with the building in years except an occasional rental agreement.
“Do you plan to buy a little or a lot?” she clarified.
Oh. “A lot.” I didn’t know for sure what she liked, so I figured I’d grab a few of everything.
I tried to focus on the desserts held behind the long bakery case in front of me, but the gaudy color on the walls of the bakery kept sidelining my attention. Bright pink Pepto-Bismol walls stared out from all sides. The sun hit the color, and it exploded as if Barbie joined a care bear, and they were trying to death stare you with the color pink. It was happy and bright and off-putting.
It might not have been so tragic if she’d kept the rest of the decor neutral, but tables and chairs were painted bright jewel-tone colors. They were blue and deep purple, but I wasn’t sure on the official names for them. More than likely something like Majestic Mountain. Did Pierce know what this woman did to his building?
No way was she getting her security deposit back. It would take a small army to get the color off the walls.
“Just let me know when you make up your mind,” Anessa, the bakery’s owner and worst decorator in existence, said.
Pierce was definitely not charging her enough rent after the way she mauled his place.
I shook my head trying to focus on the task at hand. “I have no idea what she likes.”
Anessa nodded as she folded together a large box and lid. “Is this for family or a special friend?” she asked, putting emphasis on “special friend.”
The woman was younger than Pierce and me but not by much if I remembered from her lease agreement. I didn’t recognize her name from anyone at school, and Pierce never told me her story. How did a woman know everyone in town and own the bakery in Pelican Bay if she wasn’t from here?
“It’s for a friend,” I said giving her the least bit of knowledge possible.
I may not have stepped foot in the Bakery by the Bay since it opened two years ago, but I heard enough conjecture regarding the location to be wary.
Ridge Jefferson, owner of the local security firm, had enough cameras in the shop and the rest of Pelican Bay he could monitor everyone’s moves. Pierce was always complaining how the gossip seemed to start at the bakery and then blow out through the town.
I didn’t need any gossip about Loretta and me finding its way to the heart of Pelican Bay.
But, of course, Anessa didn’t accept my answer. “Is it for a lady friend?”
“Um,” I faced two choices. Either lie or tell the truth. If I lied and said it was for a man, she might direct me to treats a man would want, which wouldn’t impress Loretta. I went with the truth. “Yes, a lady friend.”
Anessa’s smile, which I didn’t think could get any larger, somehow grew. “Your mother will be happy.”
An older woman in the bakery’s corner laughed and ticked her spoon against her teacup, but I would get to her later. I’d only ignored her because I was trying to pretend she wasn’t there.
“How do you know who my mother is?”
Anessa rolled her eyes and opened one of the back sliding doors to her shelving. “Everyone knows everyone in Pelican Bay.”
Great. “But I don’t live in Pelican Bay.” These interactions were exactly why I left.
Pearl Ashwood laughed again and then took a dainty sip from her teacup before pushing her grey braid off her shoulder. “Reginald, once a resident of Pelican Bay, always a resident of Pelican Bay.”
If Pearl was sitting in the bakery enjoying a cup of tea and eavesdropping on Anessa’s customers, I could guarantee that’s where the gossip originated. The woman was so old it felt as if she’d always lived in the town, yet she never seemed to age. She had as many wrinkles on her face now as she did when I was in high school.
More than likely, she was still causing as much trouble as well. Some time ago, before I was born, the women residents of Pelican Bay started a phone tree—a horrible system where gossip started with one person and then they called each other in a line and updated one another on what happened in town that day. From my understanding, the phone tree was alive and well and most often reported on Pierce Kensington.
It would be like the residents of Pelican Bay to not enter the new millennium. Cell phones rarely worked this close the coastlands, forcing most people to still use landlines to communicate for reliable service. When it came to Pelican Bay, the town and land around it refused to embrace technology. I shook my head and rubbed at my forehead, not sure how to handle Pearl. She might have been ancient, but it didn’t stop her from causing problems.
