“She’s worried,” Mary continued, undeterred.
“Charlotte worries about everything. Always has.”
“But Grace., What if . . .”
She cut off her employee, but in a gentle voice that she hoped took the sting out of it. “I’m getting us a fan, and the door stays shut.”
Mary looked at her doubtfully for several seconds more. Then all at once she nodded and disappeared into the kitchen to continue braiding bread. The morning routine resumed, and they spoke no more of the strange man claiming at the bakery to read a utility meter.
They finished braiding brioches and slid the trays into the refrigerator to cold-proof overnight. Brioche dough’s very high butter content made proofing the dough in a warming drawer tricky since butter started to melt at about eighty degrees Fahrenheit.
Mary handled the lunch rush while Grace went to work making butter cream frosting for the McAllister gluten-free cupcakes. As she measured powdered sugar, butter, cream, vanilla, and salt, Grace thought more about what Reno had said. Should she get a security camera after all?
For that matter, should she follow his other piece of advice and call the sheriff? Except . . . how ridiculous would she sound reporting a strange man showing up at her shop casually claiming to be someone he wasn’t, doing nothing wrong, and then leaving?
She sighed. Was it a little weird? Yes. Had he harmed anyone or anything? No.
It made more sense to chalk it up to the guy being a bit on the quirky side and let it be. She’d never been prone to overreacting and she didn’t plan to start now. Silently, she wished the fellow health and happiness wherever he might be right now and sent up a little prayer that he would never darken the bakery’s doorstep again.
And in the meantime, she would get a fan for the kitchen and keep the back door locked.
Lily ran into to the bakery at three, bursting through the front door with her usual explosion of energetic joy that lit up every room she entered.
“There’s my girl!” Grace exclaimed, dropping to her knees and holding out her arms. Her four-year-old daughter raced into them, nearly knocking them both over in her enthusiasm. Grace gave her a big hug and buried her nose in Lily’s blond curls that were so pale they almost looked white. They also smelled like the drop of vanilla Grace had always mixed into her daughter’s bottles of baby shampoo.
“You smell so good I could eat you all up,” Grace declared.
“Don’t eat me, Mommy!” Lily exclaimed, giggling.
Grace pretended to nibble at her neck and Lily wriggled away, laughing. She ran over to the flower coolers, studied at the contents for a moment, then opened one and pulled out a flower. She was allowed to have one stem of her choosing every day.
Today she went for a daisy with clean white petals around a bright yellow center.
“It matches my new dress, Mommy.”
Grace looked up at Tessa Lawrence, who’d brought Lily to the bakery, questioningly. Grace’s usual babysitter was sick with the flu, and Tessa had volunteered to pick up Lily from preschool at noon and had taken her to the Lawrence farm for the afternoon so Lily could visit the animals.
There must have been a wardrobe malfunction at some point, however, for Grace had never seen the beautiful dress Lily was wearing now. It had a sleeveless white bodice, its high waist circled by a wide, yellow satin ribbon tied in a big bow at the back. It had a puffy yellow skirt with a voluminous white petticoat beneath it and a sheer, white overskirt adorned with white flower appliqués.
Completing the look, Lily wore a multi-colored tiara made of pipe cleaners and pony beads. She’d made it in a pre-school craft project a few weeks back, and it hadn’t left her head except to sleep and to bathe for the past two weeks.
As always, Lily clutched one of her stuffed seals. She was never without one, which was why Grace made sure to have two identical ones at all times so she could surreptitiously abscond with one and wash it now and then.
Tessa smiled fondly at Lily and murmured, “You look just like Heaven’s littlest angel.”
Grace had to smile because it was true. But she’d looked just like Lily at the same age and, to this day, she still hated to be told she looked like an angel. Just because she and her daughter both had very fair coloring with pale blond hair and light blue eyes, that didn’t necessarily make them match angels. In her mind, angels came in as many sizes and shapes and colors as humans. Just because she and Lily matched Raphaelite painters’ versions of the heavenly beings didn’t give her and Lily the corner on the angelic looks market.
Tessa said a shade guiltily, “I was going through some of Makayla’s old clothes and I ran across this dress. I thought it would go perfectly with Princess Lily’s blond hair.”
“It goes puhh-fect with my hair!” Lily exclaimed. “Watch it spin, Mama.” She twirled until she staggered dizzily and the full skirt flared out even more.
“Wow! That’s awesome!” Grace exclaimed. “But don’t fall over.”
“I won’t. Coach Donna says I have great balance.”
Donna Simmons was a coach at the local gymnastics academy and taught Lily’s three times weekly gymnastics classes. It was one of the few activities that tired out Lily enough to keep her from being wild all the time.
Grace mouthed a silent thank-you to Tessa, who smiled back just tiredly enough to let Grace know Tessa had forgotten how ragged the non-stop energy of a four-year-old could run an adult.
