I don’t have the same excuses to hide behind last time. I’m an adult now.
As one woman whispers, I should know better.
I wish I could say she is wrong, but also it’s none of her fucking business.
Ignoring it works for the busier part of the morning, but I’m glad when I get to take a break and eat a slice of my dad’s handmadecinnamon-apple babka and a few of my mom’s fresh brown butter madeleines.
Another positive to coming home.
I can’t get food like this in the city. Not without paying an arm and a leg for it. And it’s never as good, either.
Mom comes and squeezes my shoulder reassuringly. “Remember, once they’ve all had their look, this will peter out. It’s better to get it all over at once than having to drag it out.”
I sigh. “I know, Mom.”
“You doing okay?” She pets my cheek, pushing my hair from my face with affection. I soak it in even though it makes me feel like I’m seven again.
“I’m fine.”
“Mmm. Fine is not a good answer, honey.”
I shrug. “It’s the one I’ve got right now. I’m not the worst I’ve ever been, so there’s that.”
I might be close, but hanging out with the Kincaid brothers last night really helped.
Mom looks me over, her eyes a warm brown soft with love.
I reach up and squeeze her hand before she slips away to Dad barking orders.
I roll my eyes and finish my tea before I get the nerve to go back out front to my audience.
I like doing a good job, but I don’t like being the center of attention. I never have.
People come in and judge me, and the weight of shouldering it all is getting pretty heavy. And pretty old. Fast.
Then this middle-aged lady makes a point of talking too loud in my line, looking daggers at me. “I’m not sure how someone who looks like her can so thoroughly wreck a home, but here we are.”
Fire burns deep and erupts hot, I turn mid-order and storm out.
I don’t need to take this.
Fuck getting it over with all at once. The people in this town can bite me.
I’m not some performing monkey.
Grabbing my coat, I don’t even fumble when Dad’s voice booms across the bakery. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I shove open the back door and slip an arm into my coat. He can yell all he wants. I am not doing this.
“Andy, let her go.” Mom’s voice floats after me before the door snips shut in my wake.
I don’t stomp away, but I do need to slow down before I slip and break something.
So, I suck in a deep breath and take in Pinebrook during the holidays.
Growing up in a small town had its perks. The holidays were one of them.
Garland winds around light poles and twinkling lights line roofs, half buried under the fresh inch of snow from yesterday.
