A little farther along the street, and Natasha let out a gasp as she saw a bakery, decked out with sweet little flower garlands on the door and on the wooden chairs and tables arranged beneath its pink and white awning.
It’s cute as a cupcake – anddefinitelynot the kind of thing we had back in my day!
Natasha would have been shocked if anyone in Girdwood Springs had evenheardof a cupcake, let alone baked one.
Not that I’ll really have room to eat one, since I think all I’m going to be eating for the next month or so is crow.
Her wonderment at how much the little town had changed, however, was temporarily pushed out of her head as Natasha suddenly noticed the beautifully done calligraphy sign painted across the bakery’s front window:Sylvie’s Bakery and Sweets.
Wait – Sylvie? Sylvie Taylor?!
She remembered Sylvie Taylor – they’d gone to school together. Sylvie had been a couple of years younger than her, so she hadn’t known herwell, but in a small place like Girdwood Springs, you couldn’t help but at least beawareof all the other kids in town. And Natasha remembered that Sylvie had always liked baking – well, a little kid’s version of baking, anyway, like mud cakes down by the river, decorated with leaves and stones, or sand pies in the sandpit.
Sylvie had always said she would be a baker when she grew up, and Natasha had, in their little kid way, believed her – anything had seemed possible when you were five years old! – but she had to admit that in the fifteen years since she’d left town, she’d mostly forgotten all about Sylvie Taylor and her dreams of being a baker, just as she imagined Sylvie Taylor had forgotten all abouther, and her own dreams of making it big in the city.
But... well…
If there was ever a time to re-make an old acquaintance, Natasha supposed that this was it. Plus, maybe she could quiz Sylvie a little about the changes that had been made in Girdwood Springs. Had the town… come into some money? Somehow?
Without another thought, Natasha swung her car into an empty space outside the bakery, cutting the engine.
That mountain air really is fresh,she had to admit, taking in a huge lungful as she paused outside the bakery door – perhaps she hadn’t realized just how used she’d gotten to the smoggy city air. Here, everything smelled crisp and clean.
But when she opened the door of the bakery, she was suddenly hit with the wafting aromas of sugar and spice – and, naturally, all things nice.
“Oh my God,” Natasha couldn’t help murmuring as she stood in the doorway, transfixed by the sight before her.
Sylvie’s bakery wasn’t just a bakery – it was a work of art.
Well, that was what it seemed like, anyway: Natasha wasn’t sure she could call the rows and rows of delicate pastries, iced confections, and tiny pastel cakes anythingbutart.
And it went without saying that the whole place smelledamazing.
Natasha was pretty sure if she could bottle this scent and send it to clients, there’d be a line out the door of this place – but, looking around, she thought it must be doing pretty well on its own. If the incredible cakes, pastries and pies alone weren’t enough evidence of that, there was also the wooden tables, each one decorated with a spray of little pink and white flowers, just like the awning outside, and the little basket of ‘FREE FOR KIDS!’ chocolate chip cookies on a low table in front of the cash register. It all spoke to a thriving and well-beloved local business.
“Sorry about the wait, I had my hands full back there for a moment!” a voice suddenly trilled, a moment before a woman wearing a black apron and cap bustled out from the back room. “Welcome to Sylvie’s! If you have any questions, just ask! Or if you’d like a free sample, let me see what I –”
The woman suddenly stopped mid-sentence, tilting her head as she looked at Natasha, as if she was trying to place her in her memories.
Natasha didn’t blame her – she would have been doing the same thing, if she didn’t already know exactly who she was looking at. She smiled a little – one half of her wanted to simply tell Sylvie who she was, but the other wanted to see if she could guess.
“You look a little familiar,” Sylvie finally said slowly, raising a finger to her lips. “But don’t tell me, I’ll get it in a minute. Is it… Natalie? No – Natasha! Natasha Scott! I remember you from school!”
Natasha had to laugh – she couldn’t hold back.
“You got it in one! I’d like to say I remembered your name without any help, but…” She gestured at the shopfront, with Sylvie’s name in huge, sweeping letters. “I guess I have to admit I had a little help.”
Sylvie laughed, her smile wide, just the way Natasha remembered it from when they were kids. Sylvie really hadn’t changed that much at all!
“Wow – I don’t think I’ve seen you here in…” Sylvie began, before her forehead scrunched in thought, clearly trying to think far enough back.
“Fifteen years,” Natasha said, shaking her head. It sounded like such a long time now that she said it out loud. “I left when I was nineteen – off to college.”
“I wasn’t too far behind you, I have to admit,” Sylvie said, her mouth quirking in a smile. “I traveled around for a while, did a few apprenticeships with different bakers here and there. Until I felt ready to strike out on my own.”
“But you still came back here?” Natasha said, cocking her head. “It seems like… well, I hope you won’t think I’m being rude, but Girdwood Springs isn’t the place I would have thought you could run a clearly pretty fancy bakery.”
“Oh, but the place has changed a lot now!” Sylvie enthused. “Ever since people started coming up the mountain to go skiing, a lot of things have changed. I know the place used to be nothing special –”
