Becket nodded. “Tell Dad, I’m sure he’ll be fine with it. I am. Congrats, big brother. Proud of you.”
“Thanks.” I grinned.
“You want to move out already?” Asher joked..
It was nice living with my brothers, sister, and Dad growing up, but at twenty-six-years old I’d wanted a space of my own.
Dad came in, saw the drawing, and tapped the corner with one finger. “Do it. Don’t starve the bakery or orchard while you build.” He was already in police director mode and the sun had barely come up. I appreciated how hard he worked for this town, but on some level it would have been nice to have him around more growing up.
“I won’t,” I assure. I wouldn’t want to let my family down.
“And tell your brothers yourself,” Dad added.
“Becket already okayed it,” I confirmed.
“I’m happy for him,” Asher said.
“Shouldn’t you be outside working?” Dad asked him, crooking his head to the side.
“On my way. I’m not here. You don’t see me,” Asher said as he slipped on his old pair of black Vans and headed outside.
“Tonight,” I assured to Dad. None of us were a talkative bunch in the morning. If anything, mornings in the house were always very focused on what needed to be done that day, that month, that year. My family liked order, control. Maybe because we felt like we lost it when Mom walked out the door and didn’t look back.
By nine I had already finished my work at the orchard and the Maple Valley bakery, and I was back at the bakery on Main Street. Maya ran the front. I rotated trays and kept the new kid from deciding “pale” and “done” were the same color.
Across the street, Petals and Pines opened on time. Sandy checked a clipboard. Harmony came down from the loft with a box on her hip. I kept my eyes on the timers. We weren’t on good terms. No reason to pretend.
“Coffee for the florist?” Maya asked.
“Two smalls, black,” I said, boxing two blueberry biscuits. “Take them over. I’m busy.”
I was not too busy. I just wasn’t going.
The bell chimed when Maya left and chimed again when she came back. “They said thanks,” she reported.
“Great,” I said, and moved a tray.
Five minutes later, Sandy stepped into the bakery with her clipboard. Harmony followed, carrying a box. We didn’t make eye contact.
“Quick thing,” Sandy said. “The festival security coordinator from the Community Trust wants to swing by later this week. Take a few crowd-flow photos, check sightlines for the new cameras. Says it’s routine.”
I stopped what I was doing. Just for a second.
“During business hours?” I asked.
“That’s what I told him,” Sandy replied. “He asked about after close. Said the lighting’s better.”
“No,” I said. Flat. “Business hours only.”
Harmony set the box on the counter a little harder than necessary. “We don’t need anyone wandering through after dark,” she added.
“Exactly,” I said. “Anything official goes through me or Becket. No drop-ins.”
Sandy nodded, already making a note. “I’ll pass it along.”
Harmony didn’t look at me when she turned to leave. “Thanks,” she said to the room, not to me.
“Anytime,” Maya chirped, filling the space she left behind.
