Sean laughed. “It seems tae me, ye’re doin’ it all and no’ leavin’ much for anyone else.”
Watching the older man move between ovens, swinging the heavy trays in and out, was truly remarkable.
“I ken I can keep ye busy enough.” Owen nodded toward a small desk in the corner. “I sketched out a rough map of our town. No’ that it’s big enough tae need one, but I’ve marked the names and locations of the places ye’ll be delivering to. The café, hotel, B&B, Snack Shop, a couple of others. They’re numbered. I’ll put a corresponding number on the boxes of baked goods that go tae each.”
“ ’Tis going tae be hard tae mess this up.” Sean studied the paper, before going to the sink to wash his hands. “Best ye give me something else first, so I can get the first-day-on-the-job mishaps out o’ the way.”
Laughing, Owen nodded at a stack of clean aprons. “Suit up.”
Sean spent the next hour bagging bread and rolls, and boxing cookies and pastries according to Owen’s precise instructions. By the time the delivery boxes were filled, numbered, and stacked, Sean had two burns and a healthy respect for the baker standing beside him.
“Break time.” Owen stretched and walked toward a stove where a coffee pot steamed above a small burner. “I ken the world turns on drip-coffee these days, but I’m old school. I like mine perked the old-fashioned way.” He glanced up at Sean before reaching for a mug. “Some things—the really good things—are worth a little extra effort. Don’t ye think?”
Sean picked up the two scones they’d set aside earlier and joined him. “Aye.” He traded a scone for a mug of coffee and inhaled the rich scent, knowing full well what Owen really meant. “ ’Tis a truth I forgot for a time. Something I’m tryin’ tae make amends, for.”
Berating himself for revealing too much, Sean looked around Owen’s kitchen, and through the small window to the wee dining-room beyond, with its brightly colored tables and welcoming atmosphere. “ ’Twould seem ye’ve built a good business on that principle. Kenna said the bakery is always busy.” He glanced at Owen, and after a moment, smiled. “What she really said, was that ye work far too hard. She worries about ye.”
“Hard work is part of the equation,” Owen stated. “There are no shortcuts tae success. Tradeoffs? Aye. Many,” he said softly, clearly thinking back on some. “But the prize is generally proportionate to the effort. In business and…everything else.”
Glancing at the clock on the wall, He set his mug down. “Time tae be on yer way. I ken ye dinnae have a car or ye wouldnae have carried my girl all the way home. So, assuming ye have a license, I’ll loan ye mine tae make the deliveries.”
License?Sean blinked, set his own mug aside and pulled off his apron. ’Twas still so much he dinnae ken of this world. “Nae. I dinnae have one.” He waited, unsure what he was answering to.
“Young people,” Owen grumbled. “In my day, we couldnae wait to get ours. Kenna doesnae have one, either. If she had, ’twould have provided some valuable information and possibly helped her regain her memory. We’d at least have known where she comes from.”
Sean could only nod as he picked up Owen’s map, feeling guilty for keeping the truth from him. But he’d vowed tae keep Kenna’s secret, and naught could make him betray his promise. No’ that Owen would believe him, anyway. But, if he ever did learn the truth, ’twould have to come from Kenna.
Turning his attention to the drawing, Sean studied the numbers correlating to the boxes and planned the most efficient route.
“There’s a bicycle.” Owen offered. “Kenna uses it for deliveries when the orders are large. We attached a wee wagon tae the back. Ye’re welcome tae use that. ’Twill save a lot of walking, no’ to mention yer back.”
A bicycle. Sean kenned what that was, at least, but he wasnae about tae get on one. He kenned after a few falls, his hands and knees would look far worse than Kenna’s. “Thank ye, but I’ll enjoy the walk. ’Twill give me a chance tae see the town, properly.” He held up a hand. “But I’ll no’ dawdle. I ken these need tae be delivered on time. Besides, Kenna will be waitin’ tae go tae the kirk. I tried tae get her tae rest today, but the lass has a mind of her own and willnae listen.”
Owen grunted. “Isnae that the truth!” He picked up the four boxes numbered with a 1 and handed them to Sean. “Three shops down, on the left. Door’s open in the back, for deliveries.” He followed Sean through the kitchen. “Here, let me get the door for ye.”
Though still crisp, the sun had warmed the air a little and the scent of so many flowers, bursting from their pots along the walkway, tempted Sean to slow down and enjoy the journey. But his promise to Owen, and the thought of Kenna anxiously waiting, kept him at a quick pace.
’Twas most enjoyable, meeting some of the shop owners and workers, and Sean regretted no’ having the time to pause and become better acquainted. What a satisfaction it must be, to be part of an active community, working together to build something solid and lasting. ’Twould be marvelous to raise a family in such a place.
Och! Such foolishness. Wishing for the impossible wouldnae get today’s job done. Nor would it help him fulfill his vow to help Kenna leave this place, forever.
He’d just made his fourth delivery, the farthest down the west end of town, and was on his way back to start the east-side deliveries when he spotted a small shop across the street. ’Twas surrounded by a beautiful, black iron fence, with two long, iron benches on either side of an elaborate gate. Inside the fence, an array of decorative objects filled the space around a sign that read:FENCES, BENCHES, GATES, AND GADGETS.
Sean stopped in his tracks. An iron worker! Hurrying across the street, he marveled at the workmanship of everything before him. The owner obviously knew much of iron. Could he possibly be aware of the history of the old kirk and the gate? Mayhap a story, handed down?
Excited to talk to him, Sean pressed the handle on the gate. ’Twas locked. Groaning his disappointment, he stepped back. O’ course ’twould be. ’Twas still too early for businesses to be open. And with Kenna waiting and the narrow space of time Owen had to take them to the kirk, ’twould be impossible for Sean to come back later.
And he shouldnae be dawdling, now. He couldnae keep an idea about the gate from growing in his mind as he jogged back to the bakery, more eager than ever to get to the kirk. The odds of what Kenna tripped over being part of the original gate, were slim. But ’twas a chance, and he’d welcome all the possibilities he could find.
Less than an hour later, he’d delivered the last of the boxes. When he approached the back door of the bakery, Kenna was entering, just ahead of him.
“Ahh, good,” Owen looked up as Sean entered. “Perfect timing. Everything go okay?” After taking off his apron, Owen hung it on a hook and picked up his sweater.
“Fine.” Sean glanced at Kenna who’d walked over to help Owen with the sweater. “Ye seem tae be movin’ a bit easier, lass. How do ye feel this mornin’?”
“Better. Completely.” She fussed with the back of the sweater, adjusting it across Owen’s shoulders, but wouldnae look up.
Owen exchanged a puzzled glance with Sean. “We’re ready then?”
