Holt couldn’t remember the last time heshared breakfast with anyone. And while he didn’t eat, he remained in the dining room and drank coffee while more guests came down to devour what was touted as the best biscuits ever by more than one person. If Bailey thought she was hiding how much that pleased her, she’d failed. But it was a good look for her. The way her eyes turned shiny and her cheeks pink.
She was absolutely adorable, and he found himself looking forward to having breakfast here for the foreseeable future.
Admittedly, Holt led a relatively solitary life. He spent a good majority of it writing. And when he wasn’t, he was generally researching—a lot of it online. He ventured out when he was in search of a muse or when he needed to delve deeper into a character’s motivation and sometimes when a scene merely wouldn’t form. But rarely did he encounter people in this capacity.
It was refreshing. And it gave him a new perspective since the guests at the Double R Retreat were not residents. They were looking at this town from the outside. It allowed him to see it through their fresh eyes, which would help when he got the perspective of those who’d lived here their entire lives.
Because he was in no rush to leave Bailey, he stuck around until the space cleared out. When Bailey holed up in the kitchen to take care of her chores, he took that as his cue to give her some space, so he ventured over to Batter & Bliss to meet the woman Bailey called Mom.
“You’re a new face,” Ramona Weber said by way of greeting from her post behind the pastry display case.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m staying at the B and B for a little while.”
“Oh?” She seemed quite pleased by this news. “My daughter manages the place. Bailey?”
“We’ve met,” he said casually, skimming the variety of baked goods inside the case. “She escorted me to the concert in the park last night.”
“I guess if you’ve had a date with my daughter, it’s only fair that I get your name.”
“Holt.” He stood tall. “Holt Callahan.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Holt Callahan. I’m Ramona.”
“Pleasure’s all mine,” he said with a grin, then gestured toward the case.
“What can I get for you?”
He scanned the rows of muffins, scones, and croissants. “I’m not sure I can choose.”
“Just say the word, I’ll pick somethin’ for you.”
Holt smiled at her. “I have a feeling I’ll be stopping in daily, so perhaps you can surprise me with something each day.”
“I can certainly do that. Any allergies or aversions?”
“No, ma’am. However, I do have a sweet tooth, but it tends to lie dormant first thing in the morning.”
“Noted. Why don’t you start with a croissant? Those sell fast around these parts.”
Ramona picked out a giant, fluffy croissant, and Holt added a coffee to go with it. He paid for both, then moved to one of the empty tables. He made note of an available plug and saw a sign for free Wi-Fi, and decided this might be a perfect place to work when he needed a change of scenery.
Speaking of scenery…
His grew infinitely more appealing when he noticed Rafe coming out of Shelf Help, the bookstore across the way. He was carrying a large wooden box mounted on a post with a crossbeam base. Holt watched as Rafe set it on the porch in front of the store, then went back inside. A minute later, a woman came out carrying a stack of books. She opened a plexiglass door on the front of the box and began tucking the books inside. Rafe returned with more books, passing them to the woman before they exchanged a few words and some smiles, then Rafe went back inside.
Interesting.
Holt finished his mid-morning meal, cleaned up his mess, then said goodbye to Ramona, promising he would be back tomorrow. Once outside, he felt the summer heat beating down on him. It was only ten, and the temperatures were already in the mid-80s. With the humidity, it felt even warmer. Not uncommon in Texas, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Granted, he grew up in Mississippi, so he knew all about balmy heat.
Figuring there was no better time than the present to seek Rafe out for another attempt at a conversation, Holt headed for the bookstore.
When he walked inside, the bells over the door jingled, and Holt briefly wondered if they got all those damn bells wholesale. Every place he’d been so far had them. Except for Moonshiners. Evidently, you didn’t need jangling to announce your presence when everyone inside did it for you.
He was instantly greeted with the scent of a familiar laundry detergent and the hint of vanilla. Not exactly the scent he expected in a bookstore, but to each his own.
Orher, as was the case here. Based on his research, Holt knew Shelf Help was owned and operated by Violet Anderson, daughter of Daphne Walker, a member of the town’s founding family.
“Good morning,” Violet greeted with a charming smile as she stepped out from behind the small wood counter that served as a centerpiece of the store. “I figured you’d be stopping in soon enough.”
