Page 73 of Barefoot Lake

She smiles, and her giggles follow me all the way out of her house.

I make a pit stop on the way to the nursery to pick up donuts for Eli and our team. After seeing Alice’s face when I told her I could stay home with her yesterday, I especially appreciate the people I work with.

Even though it’s early, the bakery is buzzing. Despite the chilly morning outside, it’s cozy and warm within.

Small towns have many early risers, opening their own stores, working fields or with livestock, and heading to school. Somehow, Barefoot Bake still beats us all. Leslie and Hannah must wake up at an ungodly hour to have already filled the display with freshly made pastries every morning by the time the whole town comes knocking.

I step up to the counter when it’s my turn.

“Jake! What can I get for you?”

Hannah is always a ball of energy. It’s impossible to tell she’s already been up for hours. She’s always ready to go and has a constant gleam in her eye that makes you think she’s up to something. Most of the time, she is.

Even if Alice hasn’t talked to her about me yet, I expect she heard that we were out together yesterday. I wonder if she’s going to say something.

“Morning, Hannah. Can I get a dozen donuts — mix it up with whatever speaks to you — and a hot coffee, light cream, no sugar, to go?”

“I’ve got some maple bacon ones coming out in a few minutes that are to die for if you can wait.”

“For maple bacon? I’ll wait. Thank you.”

I pay, and she holds out my coffee cup. I go to take it, but she doesn’t let go.

“Do anything fun around town these last few days?” she asks.

There it is.

“Just some projects. You know how some of those old houses need regular upkeep.” I try to be vague without being rude.

“Mmhmm,” she hums. “Just make sure you don’t do more harm than good.”

The thinly veiled threat is gone in a second and replaced with Hannah’s usual smile.

I warily step out of the way and lean against the archway to the bookstore. While it isn’t technically open yet, a few people are sitting in the armchairs within, either enjoying their breakfasts or waiting for their orders to be ready.

I spot Grateful Bob drinking out of a mug topped with a mountain of whipped cream. I raise a hand in greeting, but he waves me over.

“Come give me a proper hello, boy.”

I push off the wall and head toward him as somebody vacates the chair beside his. I’m happy to put more space between me and the baker who might stab me.

He gestures for me to sit, and I clap a hand on his shoulder as I sink down.

“Good morning, Grateful Bob.”

“Don’t you ‘Good morning’ me.” He fixes me with a fierce glare, and I suddenly realize him happily calling me over was a trap. I’ve been ambushed twice, and it’s barely even light out.

I hesitantly take a sip of my coffee, awaiting whatever smackdown seems to be coming.

“What are your intentions with Alice?”

I sputter into my coffee, choking on the burning liquid. I have to pound a fist against my chest a few times before I’m able to speak.

“What?!”

“Alice McDermott. Your neighbor. I believe you’re familiar with her?” There isn’t even a hint of a smile on Grateful Bob’s lips.

“Yes, I know her.”