“Why don’t we come back tomorrow?” a man says.
I stop, slowly turning to find the soldier who helped me open the door.
He continues, “When the weather is a bit kinder?”
The others agree, but I don’t miss the subtle glance he takes toward my shoes.
My father is worried when I return home and inform him the King’s auditors will come back tomorrow. He’s suspicious that they saw something to spur a need for a deeper investigation. But when we return the next day, the rain now a soft drizzle, the soldier who postponed the audit has a brand new coat for me.
At first I think it’s a test.
But when he’s adamant I take it so he and his men can get a tour without interruptions, I comply. Perhaps he’s simply a kind man.
That, or a pitying one.
The audit goes as smoothly as it can. Later that night I return to my family’s bakery. Since we have to be mindful of my mother around others considering her delicate situation, and we can’t afford the king and his men discovering her illness, I’m the designated delivery girl.
As I drop off a delivery of freshly baked bread to our town bar, I catch his eyes from across the room. That golden-eyed soldier, having a beer with his fellows. I slip out, my business done. But as I turn off the street back to the bakery, he catches me.
I can’t help but think I’m in trouble. That something was wrong with the audit.
“Sorry, I…” He drops his hand off my shoulder. “I just wanted to ask if the coat fit well. If not, I’m in town for a few more weeks and would be more than happy to have it tailored for you.”
“Oh…” I blink, unsure how to respond. Dipping my head, I finally breathe out, “It fits well. But I thank you for your kindness.”
“I’m glad then,” he murmurs. Then adds, “Would I be able to buy a loaf or two from you? My men and I tend to get hungry after a few drinks.”
“The bar’s delivery is the last of our stock for tonight, I’m afraid. But…” a small grin lifts my lips, and I jerk my head to the south, “come two streets over and we’ll have more tomorrow.”
A smile warms his features in the night. “Tomorrow, then.”
The next morning, thirty minutes before we open our doors, he’s outside. As I tie on my apron, my father’s peeking at him through the window. “What business does a king’s soldier have here?”
Without looking up from kneading dough, I respond, “He caught me at the bar last night and wanted to buy a loaf. I told him we were out and to come by this morning.”
He drops the curtain at the window and turns to me with narrowed eyes. “Did he now?”
The soldier waits outside alone for the next thirty minutes. Well, thirty-five. My father makes him wait an extra five minutes past opening just because.
“Hi…” I breathe when he comes up to the counter, dusting my hands off on my apron. “You came.”
He smiles, brilliantly. “I did. I’ve been up all night dreaming about what kind of loaf I’d order.”
My father, across the room sweeping, rolls his eyes.
“What do you normally like?” I ask, then gesture to everything we have on display. “We have white, wheat, rye, sourdough?—”
“Everything.” He leans up onto the counter.
I nod. “Okay, so, one of everything then?”
“No. Everything, as in, I’d like to buy every loaf you have in here.”
My father drops the broom to the floor with a clatter before scrambling to pick it up. Mirroring my own shock.
Once I get my breath back, I laugh incredulously. “You aren’t serious?”
He pulls a bag heavy with coin out of his coat and drops it onto the counter. “Oh, on the contrary, I’m very serious.”
