“Er. Indeed.”
At Thimble’s nod of encouragement, Tandri transferred the warm rolls onto a platter one by one and reverently set them on the counter.
As Hemington paid, Viv handed him a roll on a piece of waxed paper and leveled a glare at him. “If you don’t eat this, it’s possible Tandri or I may have to kill you.”
The young man laughed, although the laugh became strangled when Viv didn’t join in. He slunk back to his books with the roll balanced carefully on both palms.
Anyone who’d been in the dining area was already in line, waiting their turn, and within thirty minutes, every last roll was gone.
Tandri stared at the crumb-strewn plate, ran a finger through a dribble of glaze, licked it off, and looked bleakly at Viv. “I didn’t even get to have one,” she said. “I would’ve paidmorethan four bits.”
“Well, you’re in luck,” said Viv. “Seems like you’ll get another chance. And I don’t like to think what Laney will do with that broom if we don’t remember to set one aside for her, too.”
Thimble was already busily mixing up a new batch, humming again, louder—and happier—than before.
13
With Thimble already elbow-deep in his baking before dawn—and with Tandri strategically cracking the door ahead of time to let the smell creep into the street—the opening crowd was easily triple the prior day’s.
Tandri and Viv brewed side by side, working both handles in a flustered but energized confusion, nearly tripping over one another to fill orders.
Thimble’s cinnamon rolls disappeared in minutes, but he had wisely already set more dough to rise while the first batch was in the oven.
With the stove running full blast, the shop was hotter than usual, and muggy from the steaming rolls. Both women sweated through their shirts within the hour. The chatter of the crowd, Thimble’s clatter, and the hiss and rumble of the gnomish coffee machine filled the air with a dizzying madness.
As the morning crept toward noon, the crowd slackened but never lapsed for more than ten minutes. The dining area sang with a lively clamor, and the rumble of conversation pervaded. Customers dallied longer, enjoying their baked goods and sipping their drinks without hurrying, and for the first time, more sat at the big communal table than sought the relative solitude of a booth.
Viv leaned on the counter, studying their faces, and saw, at last, what she’d been too nervous to hope for. She found it in half-lidded eyes and a slow, deliberate swallow. In cupped hands around the warmth of a mug and the lingering enjoyment of the last taste. It was the echo of her own experience, and a pleasant flush of recognition washed over her.
“You haven’t stopped smiling in an hour,” said Tandri, startling Viv out of woolgathering during a brief lull.
“I haven’t?”
“Nope.”
They were both red-faced and too warm, but Viv couldn’t help but notice how much more relaxed Tandri seemed today. Viv liked it.
“Just feels like everything lined up. I had the same feeling a few times before—like when I found Blackblood.” Viv tipped her head toward the blade on the wall. “She just felt at home in my hands, and when I went to use her, well….” Realizing where that story went, she stopped short. “Anyway, this feels… right.”
“It does.”
“Still some kinks to work out, though.”
“I think you can rest on your laurels for a day or two,” said Tandri, with a wry smile.
“I don’t know, we might boil to death in the meantime.”
Thimble appeared between them, and they looked down. He glanced up at Viv and tugged at the hem of her shirt, pointed at the oven, then spread his arms wide.
“I… sorry, I don’t know what you mean, Thimble.”
His nose wriggled, and he whispered, “Bigger. Would be better… bigger.”
“Therolls?They’re already as big as my head!”
He shook his head. “Stove.Stove!” Then he quailed. “Sorry! Sorry!”
Viv glanced over at the oven Cal had installed. Thimble had worked nonstop, and the rolls sold out almost as soon as they cooled. Perhaps demand would taper off a little, but she could certainly see how the pace might run the poor rattkin ragged. A bigger stovewouldmake it easier to stay on top of things.
