Page 118

Outside on Main Street, the wreath on the door of Marge’s antique store is swinging gently in the wind. A woman passes the window, and I see her practically dragged along by an excited dog wearing a cute red Christmas sweater.

A minute later, Noëlle appears with two mugs and a plate. She sets one coffee in front of me, one at the empty chair across from me, and slides the cinnamon roll onto my side of the table.

Then she sits.

“Finn, I’ve known you since you had a bowl cut and cried in kindergarten because you couldn’t figure out how to tie your own shoes. I know when something’s not right with you. Today is the last day of the festival that you’ve been quite literally killing yourself to save. There hasn’t been a single major issue, and every person in town has been telling me for the last week what a miracle you are. You should be walking on air. Instead, you look like someone kicked your dog.”

I stare at the cinnamon roll.

I could lie or deflect, but Noëlle is astute. She’s also a good friend, and since my best friend is going through his own stuff, I don’t have anyone else to talk to. And I am tired. So tired of holding this in.

“I fell in love with somebody I shouldn’t have,” I say quietly.

Noëlle’s expression softens. But she doesn’t say anything. She just waits.

“And I don’t know if he feels the same way. He’s going to be gone soon, probably for a long time. And I—” My voice cracks. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Noëlle. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

She reaches across the table and puts her hand over mine.

Her hands are warm and her knuckles are speckled with flour.

“Finn, I want you to listen to me very carefully.”

“Okay.”

She looks out the window as if to see if anyone is coming into the bakery and then she leans forward on the table.

“Fox is head over heels in love with you.”

I stare at her. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Then, finally, I stammer, “Wh… what are you talking about?”

“You heard me.”

I shake my head.

“He’s so in love with you it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“How—”

“I’m going to confess something, but only because I can tell that if I don’t, you won’t know the full story. And looking at your sad face right now, I’m scared things won’t work out for you because”—she gestures at the air—“men and communication. Jeez.”

I nod, still not completely comprehending how she knows about Fox and me.

She sits back a little and picks up her coffee.

“About a week before Thanksgiving, I had one of those days. My oven decided to take the day off and Sam got one of her migraines, so I was closing early. But I was on my own, so around a quarter to five, I was about to lock the door when this man came in with his coat collar pulled all the way up and a hat pulled all the way down.”

I think I can see where this is going, but I let her carry on.

“Of course I recognized Fox the second he took his hat off. He looked a little nervous and jumpy, so I closed the door so no one else could come inside. That’s when he asked me if I could teach him to make bread.”

“Bread?”

She nods. “I asked him why. He got squirrelly. He just said he had some time on his hands and wanted to learn. When I asked why couldn’t your mom teach him, his eyes went so wide.” She laughs. “He told me he wasn’t staying at the farm and asked me not to tell anyone that I’d seen him.”

“Oh my god.”

“He was so serious about it, Finn. I’ve never had anyone take a bread lesson that seriously. Of course we couldn’t do the full thing because of my oven, but he asked if we could do a lesson by video call.”