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“Does he want to own this whole town or something?” she asked through clenched teeth.
“Yes,” Grampy answered, without an ounce of hesitation. “Ever since taking over Cap’s he’s been slowly procuring buildings down Main Street, hoping to flip them and turn them into businesses that bring in different kinds of clientele. Pricey shops, restaurants worthy of the Michelin guide…you get it.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Jess spewed. “The summer people come to Haverport for our old-school, laid-back charm.”
Grampy lifted a brow. “Do they? How’s Cap’s doing?”
Jess frowned, thinking about her father’s old boatyard. It did draw a new kind of crowd, with fancier boats and people who liked to order overpriced oysters with lunch.
“I was surprised he would come after you like that, given that you’re dating his son and all,” Grampy continued.
“I’m not dating him anymore,” Jess whispered. “I left Charlie.”
That bushy mustache twitched again. “And the plot thickens. Where are you living now?”
“With the Balls. Just until I find a place on my own.”
“Good. Do me a favor and find out that oatmeal chocolate chip cookie recipe for me.”
“Who says I’m sharing?”
Grampy laughed. Jess shushed him and mumbled about Kevin sleeping upstairs. He probably wasn’t though. She wouldn’t be surprised if he had an ear perched to the floorboards right now, tuning in to every facet of their conversation. The side of her mouth ticked up at the thought.
He followed Jess back into the kitchen and they collected their things. Grampy placed a hand on her shoulder as she locked the back door for the night. “You’re going to be fine, kid. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
“Three knocks on the back door.” She smiled. “Thanks. But I should be okay.”
“Asking for help is not a bad thing, Jess,” he said. “I honestly wish I did it more when I was your age. Don’t be like me.”
As she watched Grampy leave, she realized that asking for help wasn’t that easy. After relying on Charlie and his family for so long, she didn’t know what it felt like to ask for help without any strings attached. Because for some reason, there always were strings. Even if she was often the last to see them.
The air was sweet from sugar and yeast and pulled espresso and frothed milk. The shop was bursting with sounds of crusty bread and paper bags, bright music and echoing laughter. The line leading up to the bakery front trailed out the door and pooled onto the sidewalk.
Jess hastily rang up her current customer’s order—two cranberry orange scones, one blueberry muffin, two Americanos, one cappuccino. Zach ripped off each printed ticket next to him, sticking them onto cups, placing them in a neat line next to him. He was quick and efficient, and had yet to get a single order wrong during their haywire first morning.
“Need me to slow down?” Jess called to Zach. “I can take a pause on these orders.”
“Nope, I’m used to it,” Zach replied. He sounded a lot more composed than she felt. “Keep going. Keep making that bread.”
“How on brand.” She turned back to the line that had yet to relent for the past three hours. “Next!”
As the following customers stepped up, the sound of billowing laughter pulled her attention to the other side of the shop. Kevin was grinning at a customer, coffee in hand as he pointed to a bike between them—a kid’s magenta bike with training wheels and sparkly streamers on the handlebars. If she wasn’t mistaken, she saw a couple of customers leave a half hour earlier with two shiny new bikes in tow as well.
“What are these heart-shaped things?” asked the woman on the other side of the counter, her pink sun-kissed nose pressing up against the glass. “They are adorable!”
Jess smiled. “Kanelbullar. They’re like cinnamon buns.”
The woman squealed. “I’ll take four.”
With gloved hands she placed the pastries in a large paper bag, still in disbelief at how the morning was turning out. Grampy was right; that community post he claimed came from Mr. Sullivan didn’t reflect how the people of Haverport felt as many familiar faces came piling through the front door. Old high school peers, fellow business owners, regular cake customers from Scoops and Post Road who wanted a taste at her new pastry creations. The picnic tables outside were packed, people wearing sunglasses and ball caps, dogs happily lapping at the water bowls positioned along the sidewalk. She hoped Charlie’s dad drove by this morning on his way to Cap’s and saw the commotion. She wondered if Charlie would drive by, too.
She brushed off the thought of her ex—her ex. It had been over two weeks since she left, the longest she’d ever gone without talking to him. She felt a pang in her stomach as she bagged more pastries and rang up orders. She knew this kind of change was good—she was running her very own bakery this morning, for crying out loud. But she missed the comfort of having him in her life, that steadiness of knowing she always had one person she could turn to.
Her eyes drifted to Kevin again, watching as he exchanged bills with the customer holding the handlebars of the bold magenta bike. You’ve always been a small comfort. Maybe that was all she really needed; a small comfort.
Kevin examined the crowd after the customer left, then glanced at Jess. His mouth burst into a grin, his arms held out wide as he gestured toward the massive line crowding the shop.
I told you so, he mouthed.
