An hour later, Jake pulled up in front of the bakery. Saturday morning, and Main Street was busy with the usual morning traffic—ranchers picking up supplies, mothers running errands, the occasional tourist stopping for coffee.
“I’ll be back at one,” Jake said, his eyes scanning the street as Nora and I got out. “Call if you need anything before then.”
I nodded, suddenly reluctant to leave the safety of his truck. “Be careful,” I said, not entirely sure what I was warning him against.
His eyes softened. “Always am.”
Inside the bakery, the familiar scents of yeast and sugar enveloped us. Frank looked up from the register, relief washing over his face.
“Thank God,” he exclaimed. “Line’s been out the door all morning.”
I hung up our coats and tied on an apron. “Sorry,I’m late. Family emergency.”
Frank waved away my apology. “Just glad you’re here now. Denise called in sick too—something about her kid having strep.”
Great. Just what I needed—a busy shift with no help. “Nora, honey, you can set up at the corner table with your books.”
She nodded, already pulling out the coloring supplies I’d packed for her. I kissed the top of her head and went to work.
The morning passed in a blur of customers and orders. I kept Nora in my peripheral vision at all times, a habit I’d developed years ago but which now felt more urgent than ever. She seemed content, alternating between coloring and helping Frank arrange cookies on display trays.
Around noon, the bell over the door jingled, and I looked up to see a man I didn’t recognize enter. He was tall, well-dressed in a way that stood out in our small town—cashmere coat, polished shoes, hair slicked back with expensive product. Something about him made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
He approached the counter slowly, eyes roaming the bakery as if committing every detail to memory. When his gaze landed on Nora, it lingered a beat too long.
“Can I help you?” I asked, wiping flour from myhands.
He turned to me, and his smile never reached his eyes. “Yes, I hope so. I’m looking for a woman named Ella Shaw.”
My stomach dropped. “May I ask why?”
He pulled out a business card and slid it across the counter. “Alex Kozlov, private investigator. I’m working on behalf of a client who’s trying to locate a family member.”
The name meant nothing to me, but the mention of a client searching for family sent ice through my veins. I kept my expression neutral as I glanced at the card.
“I’m Ella,” I said, deciding that denying my identity would only make me look suspicious. “But I’m afraid I can’t help you. I don’t have any family looking for me.”
His smile widened fractionally. “Are you certain? My client is quite insistent that you might have information.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. From the corner of my eye, I saw Nora look up from her coloring book, sensing the tension in my voice.
“I think you have me confused with someone else,” I said firmly. “Now, if you’d like to order something, I’m happy to help. Otherwise, I have customers waiting.”
Kozlov leaned closer, dropping his voice. “MissShaw—or should I say, Miss Petrova? Or perhaps, Miss MacGallan —we both know that’s not true. My client wants to reconnect. Surely you can understand that?”
Before I could respond, the bell jingled again, and Jake walked in. His eyes immediately took in the scene—my rigid posture, the stranger leaning over the counter, Nora watching with wide eyes.
“Everything okay here?” he asked, moving to stand beside me.
Kozlov straightened, assessing Jake with a quick, calculating glance. “Just having a friendly conversation,” he said smoothly. “Business matter.”
Jake’s hand came to rest on the small of my back, a subtle show of support that gave me strength. “We were just finishing up,” I said. “As I told you, I can’t help you.”
Kozlov nodded, apparently accepting defeat for now. “Very well. But my client is persistent, Miss Shaw. He’s waited a very long time for this reunion.” He picked up his card and slid it into his pocket. “I’ll be in touch.”
We watched him leave, the bell jangling cheerfully in his wake. As soon as the door closed behind him, my knees nearly buckled. Jake’s arm came around me, steadying me.
“Who the hell was that?” he demanded.
