“It is a custom order. But Mommy can bake anything.”
Grace smiled out the window.
They dropped off Lily and Reno pulled up at the curb next to Buns ’N’ Roses.
“Thanks again for the pancakes. And have a good day.”
“It’s already a great day. I made my two favorite girls smile this morning.”
She unlocked the bakery door, turned on the lights, and put her purse in the office. Then she tied on an apron and pulled the proofing trays out of the fridge before she let herself look out the front window at the truck.
He was still there. He had his phone out. Mary’d told her in passing a few days ago that he watched the security cameras to make sure she was okay before he drove away.
On impulse, she waved up at the camera and blew him a kiss. Smiling, she went back to brushing melted butter on the sourdough rolls.
She’d been at the work table for a half-hour when Mary came in. She knew something was wrong immediately.
Mary set her bag down on the bench by the back door. Hung up her sweater. Washed her hands. And when Mary turned around to dry them, she still didn’t say good morning. Mary always said good morning. In fact, she would say it twice if Grace didn’t say it back the first time.
“Morning,” Mary said, finally, looking down at the towel.
“Morning.”
“What are we starting with.”
“The orange chocolate icing.”
Mary went to work, looking distracted.
Grace let her work. Mary would tell her in her own time what she was upset about. Although, as Grace kneaded a batch of bread dough and thought back over the past week or so, she realized Mary had been distracted for a while. And she’d been so busy worrying about her own life that she hadn’t asked Mary once if she was okay.
She plopped the dough in a proofing bowl and turned around.
“Mary, Honey, talk to me.”
Mary’s shoulders went tight under her shirt. She didn’t turn around. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s something.”
Mary put her hands flat on the counter and looked at them, and Grace saw her decide, in a small movement of her chin, not to talk about it yet. “Not today, Gracie. Please.”
Mary only called her Gracie when she was about to ask for something important or about to break.
“All right,” Grace said kindly. “I’m here to listen, any time, though.”
“Soon.”
Grace went back to her dough and Mary went back to icing.
The bell over the front door rang.
Tessa came in the way she always did, fast and on a mission, her phone in one hand and a list on the back of an envelope in the other. “Morning, Grace.”
“Morning. What’ll you have?”
“A half-dozen cinnamon rolls and a quart of coffee. To go. I’m late for a fitting I forgot to put it on the calendar. I figure your cinnamon rolls are the only thing that’ll make them forgive and forget.”
“That seems fair. Where’s Charlotte?”
