by Fiona Grace
‘Or…’ Ali thought with a start, as she halted outside her apartment. ‘It could mean one of the next door neighbors!’
She glanced at the apartment beside hers, which was home to an older woman who kept herself to herself. Ali’s only experience with her had been when she first moved in. The woman had kept curiously peeping through her curtains at her. Ali had dismissed her as a nosy curtain-twitcher and gotten on with her life, simply ignoring her. But what if Lavinia’s prediction pertained to the older woman? She never seemed to have any visitors. What if she was sick, or infirm, and no one knew?
Thinking herself into a panicked frenzy, Ali decided it was her neighborly obligation to check on her. She diverted from her own front door and knocked instead on the woman’s.
Inside, all was silent. Ali’s worry increased as she strained to hear any sounds of life coming from within. Then, a sudden voice made her jump a mile.
“What do you want?” a female voice barked.
Ali scanned around herself and discovered the living room window of the property was now open, and an eye was peering around the curtain. Ali couldn’t see anything else of the woman’s face, but she could see the skeptical scrutiny in just her one eye.
“I wanted to check in and say hi,” Ali said nervously to the disembodied eye.
“Why?” the voice demanded.
Ali wrang her hands awkwardly. “Well, because, um, I live next door, and I’ve never really introduced myself. So I thought I would.”
“Why now?” the older woman snapped back without missing a beat. “It’s the middle of the night.” Her tone was more than just suspicious now; she sounded downright hostile.
Ali gulped. Maybe this was a bad idea. In her mind, it wasn’t too late to be knocking on a stranger’s door—it was barely evening—but she could certainly appreciate why a woman older than herself might find the timing threatening. Her mom always hated it when people knocked on her door after five PM.
A surge of embarrassment and humiliation raced into Ali’s cheeks.
“Sorry for intruding,” she said, backpedaling rapidly and raising her hands into truce position. “I’ll leave you to your evening.”
She grabbed for her keys in her purse, wanting nothing more now than to escape the embarrassing situation she’d brought on herself. But, of course, they’d fallen into the dark depths of her purse because she could not for the life of her find them.
“Now what are you doing?” the woman at the window barked.
“Just trying to find my keys,” Ali replied in a sing-song-ey voice, trying to sound as unintimidating as possible.
Finally, she heard the familiar tinkle sounds and snatched her keys up. She jammed them in the lock, twisted them, and burst inside. The dark sanctuary of her home enveloped her.
A sudden green glow filled the room and Ali startled. It took her a second to realize it was just her phone lighting up with an incoming text message.
She checked the screen. The message was from her mother.
Where are we meeting for breakfast tomorrow?
Ali ground her teeth. How presumptuous of her mother.
I’m working tomorrow, she typed back, reminding her mother for what felt like the umpteenth time that because she’d decided to come earlier than originally planned, she’d arrived slap bang in the middle of Ali’s very packed schedule!
You have to eat, Allison, came her mother’s reply. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.
Ali rolled her eyes, feeling like twenty years had suddenly dropped off of her and she was a grumpy fifteen-year-old rather than a mature thirty-five year-old accomplished, independent woman.
Before Ali had a chance to type her reply, her phone began ringing in her hand, and her mother’s name flashed instantly at her, making bright light bounce off the shadowy walls.
Ali hit the light switch and the green button on her phone at the same time. Light flooded the room and her mom’s voice filled her ear.
“Can’t your assistant cover for you so we can get breakfast?” she immediately demanded.
“Of course she can. Only I arranged with Piper to cover certain shifts on the weekend. Because that’s when we were expecting you to come.”
“Just rearrange,” her mom demanded. “Honestly, Ali, it’s not rocket science. There’s only two of you to schedule; it can’t be that difficult!”
Ali tensed. All these subtle little digs were really starting to grind her down. She knew her mom disapproved of her business, but she was getting more overt about it, and it was starting to hurt.
“Okay, fine,” she replied. “I’ll reschedule with Piper. What time do I need to tell her to cover me?”
“I’ll be with you first thing, bright and early,” Georgia said. “Ten AM.”
Ali almost choked on her laughter. Since when was ten AM early? Especially to a baker! For Ali, five AM was sleeping in!
She managed to suppress the urge to roll her eyes. If she rolled them any harder, she’d give herself a headache.
“Ten AM sounds perfect,” she told her mom.
And with that, she ended the call.
As silence surrounded her once again, Ali thought of tomorrow, and what the day might bring. Among all the worries over Marco and the tax hike, along with the stress of having her mother in town, there was one shining beacon of excitement. The new range of Danishes. Tomorrow, bright and early, Ali would get to work creating them, and she simply couldn’t wait.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Ta da!” Ali exclaimed, admiring the stack of delicious looking, freshly baked Danishes on proud display in the glass cabinet. She and Piper had been baking since the crack of dawn, and she was very pleased with the end result. The big, round, swirling pastries looked delicious, covered in a fine layer of cinnamon, sugar, and a sweet glaze that caught the early morning sunlight.
“They look great,” Piper said, leaning her elbows on the counter and yawning deeply. “But seriously, I can’t believe you wake up this early every day.”
It was Piper’s first ever early morning baking shift since it had taken a while for Ali to feel confident enough in her after a series of mishaps at the beginning of her training. But now she was really starting to get the hang of things and, along with the steady increase in customers, it was becoming more evident to Ali that she needed Piper busy out back, baking in the kitchen rather than glued to her cell phone at the till.
“You can take a break now,” Ali offered. “Everything’s ready here for opening.”
“Are you sure?” Piper asked, yawning once again.
“It’s the least you deserve,” Ali replied with a smile. “I’m used to five AMs but I’ve been conditioning myself for years. Anyone can be an early bird eventually; it just takes consistency and...”
Her voice trailed away as she realized Piper was no longer listening to her. Instead, her glazed-eyed assistant was fiddling with the knot of her apron strings, clearly in haste to take advantage of the break Ali had offered. Finally, she managed to loosen the knot and pulled the apron over her head quickly before haphazardly flinging it onto the hooks and grabbing her red leather purse.
“Thanks, Ali!” she exclaimed, as she raced across the peppermint green tiles for the exit.
“Turn the sign on your way!” Ali called after her.
Without stopping, Piper grabbed the door sign and flipped it over from closed to open, then disappeared out the door and into the early morning light.
Ali couldn’t help but chuckle. Her assistant was peculiar to say the least.
As a hush fell over the now empty bakery, Ali looked over at the wall clock. She had about an hour before her mother descended upon her once again, and she was far from enthusiastic about it. She’d agreed to take her out to breakfast, but really would prefer to spend her time helping Marco. It just didn’t seem right to casually waltz around with her mother when her neighbor was going through a desperate predicament. She’d have to find a way out of it, find some way to st
all her mom. Perhaps she could blow her off until lunch? At least that way she’d be able to use the morning at least to try and help Marco.
Suddenly, Ali was greatly relieved that her mom had secretly booked a hotel room for the trip behind her back. She’d been hurt at first, but actually the respite had afforded her the ability to bake her Danishes this morning without interruption. Had she known her mother was back home alone in her apartment the whole time—poking around with her disapproving eye, no doubt—she’d probably have messed up the whole batch!
Just then, a man through the window caught Ali’s attention, pulling her from her ruminations and back into reality. He was striding purposefully across the boardwalk toward the bakery, as if he’d been waiting for the sign to be flipped to open.
Ali felt a surge of excitement to serve her first customer of the day. Even through the glass, she could tell the man was very attractive (‘for an older guy,’ she added internally), with an athletic physique and impeccable posture, like he spent his weekends rock climbing.
The door opened—the bronze bell tinkling brightly overhead—and the man strolled confidently up to the counter. He exuded a relaxed and confident aura, the same as Delaney, as if living in an entirely different world than the rest of mankind, one where everything was sunshine and roses and nothing bad ever happened.
“Good morning,” he said in the exact affable manner Ali was anticipating. “I’ll take a coffee to go please.”
“Coming right up,” she replied with a smile. She turned to the coffee machine and began loading it with organic Peruvian beans.
“So how are you feeling today?” the man called as she worked.
“Very well thanks,” she replied, her full focus on her coffee brewing task. “Yourself?”
“Me? I’m quite alright thanks. But I’m not the one who got shocking news yesterday.”
Ali paused what she was doing and turned to look at the man with a curious frown. “I’m sorry? What did you say?”
“Yesterday,” the man reiterated. “You were serving me when you went as pale as a ghost. I asked if you were okay, and you said you’d received some news. You don’t remember?”
Ali scanned the man from his shiny brogue shoes all the way up his elegant suit, and finally to his silver-gray, slicked back hair. This was the man she’d been serving when she’d received Teddy’s bombshell news? This perfectly sculpted specimen of masculinity? She really must’ve been in a state of stunned shock if she’d failed to notice this hunky action figure of a man!
“You were the customer I was serving?” she mused aloud.
The man chuckled. “Ouch. What a dent to the ego! Am I really that forgettable?”
“No, not at all,” Ali exclaimed, back-pedaling rapidly.
“Relax, I’m only teasing you!” the man interjected. He chuckled and smiled the sort of dazzling, ice-white toothed smile that Teddy would be envious of.
“Oh,” Ali replied with a blush. Her panic subsided enough for her to return the gesture with her own coy smile. She busied herself again with the coffee machine.
The man seemed charming, and Ali found herself wondering who he was. He’d been in her store two days in a row, but he wasn’t a local, and he also didn’t look like a tourist in his businessman attire, either. Willow Bay wasn’t exactly known for business conferences, after all. So why was he here?
Ali was about to ask, when she heard the man sniff deeply and say, “What is that delightful smell?”
“The Danishes, perhaps?” she suggested, leaving the coffee machine to brew and approaching the counter, whereby she pointed at the stack of fresh Danishes glistening behind the glass.
The man eyed them hungrily and sniffed again. “I believe so. Cinnamon, is it?”
Ali nodded eagerly. With her attention diverted to her favorite topic of conversation—baked goods—she completely forgot all about her curiosity over the man and who exactly he was.
“That’s right,” she said, as the coffee machine hissed and gurgled away in the background. “I actually use the original French recipe, which was created by mistake, by an apprentice baker called Claudius Gelee. It’s a bit lighter than the more famous Austrian version you’ve probably had for breakfast before.”
“Well, that explains it!” the man exclaimed, looking thoroughly delighted. “I studied in France for a few years, and that is the precise smell of the coffee shops and cafés. What a wonderful trip down memory lane that smell has brought me.”
Ali grinned, not just because she was thrilled to have pleased her new customer so much, but because they shared something in common. “I studied in France, too. I trained to be a pastry chef in Paris. Where were you?”
“Bordeaux,” he replied. “Love the place. The architecture. The history. The food.” He smiled wistfully, then he dug in his pocket and retrieved his wallet. “You’ve left me no choice. I’m going to have to buy one. How much?”
Ali grinned with pride. “With the coffee, five dollars.”
With a thrill of joy, she fetched the coffee from the machine and secured a lid. Then she tonged out the first ever Danish she'd sold and slipped it into a brown paper bag. Delaney’s Seaside Sweets design looked wonderful on the side.
The man flipped through his wallet, then looked up at Ali and pulled a face.
“I’m so sorry. It looks as though I’m short,” he said. “I only have enough for the coffee.” He sighed, sadly. “I guess I’ll have to pass on the Danish for today. But I’ll be sure to bring enough for it tomorrow.”
“You know what,” Ali said. “How about you take one on the house?”
“What?” the man replied, looking surprised. “Really?”
Ali nodded. “Yup. All I ask in return is that you tell everyone you meet how great it is and where you got it from.” She chuckled good humoredly.
The man chuckled in return. “Well, that’s very generous of you. I certainly will!” He checked the paper bag. “Seaside Sweets,” he read aloud. “I’ll remember that, and I’ll be sure to keep the bag on display during my long day of boring meetings!”
He looked pleased to have been given a free pastry, and Ali felt a surge of pleasure. She loved being able to surprise people and treat them. The world could be a stressful place, and small gestures of kindness could really go a long way.
But just as she thought it, she remembered the proposed tax hike. If it passed, she’d have no choice but to tighten the purse strings. There’d be no more surprise freebies…
“What’s wrong?” the man asked. “You look sad all of a sudden.”
Ali hesitated. Either she wore her heart on her sleeve, or this man was particularly perceptive. Either way, she felt herself able to open up to him.
“Oh, it’s just this jerk new council member,” she said with a sigh. “He’s trying to implement a tax hike on the boardwalk eateries. Most of us are small independents, and we’re worried he’s trying to run us out of business so his stupid property mogul buddy can open up his tacky steakhouses.”
“Oh my,” the man replied. “Steakhouses. How awful.”
He seemed significantly less interested in hearing her woes than Ali expected. He must have only been asking out of obligation because she’d given him a free Danish, rather than because he was actually interested in her. She felt a little flicker of embarrassment to have offloaded on a stranger like that.
Luckily, there was no more awkward conversation to be had, because the man picked up his coffee cup and paper bag, gave Ali a courteous nod, and headed for the exit. And as he went, Ali spotted a very welcome figure approaching the bakery. A tall, stocky man with a round belly and stick-like legs, with a shock of strawberry blonde hair. It was Teddy!
The awkward interaction with the customer immediately vacated Ali’s mind and was replaced with a ripple of excited anticipation at the sight of her brother. Teddy never got up early if he could avoid it. For him to be here at this time of day could only mean something very, very significant had happened
. Maybe he’d come across another clue about their dad’s whereabouts? Maybe he’d actually found him?
As Teddy and the suited man passed one another at the door, the former replacing the latter, Ali hurriedly grabbed the coffee pot and filled up two mugs, finding her hands trembling as she did. Whatever Teddy was here to tell her, she had a sneaky suspicion that it was the sort of thing she’d need to be sitting down for…
“I have news!” Teddy exclaimed excitedly as the door swung shut behind him.
Ali’s heart leapt, her mind going into overdrive. “Okay. But, wait. Wait. Don’t say anything yet.”
She quickly tonged a couple of Danishes onto a plate, then hurried around the counter, carrying the coffee and plates over toward him, before nodding at the window seat. Teddy scooted into the window seat, looking like he was going to burst with impatience. Ali slid the plates and mugs onto the table, then took a chair, and a deep, steadying breath.
“Okay,” she said, finally. “I’m ready. Go.”
She pressed her eyes shut together and squeezed every muscle in anticipation of hearing the news she’d been dreaming of: that Teddy had found their father.
“I just landed a role!” Teddy’s voice exclaimed. “In a movie!”
Ali faltered. Her hope fell, dashed in one instant.
But the disappointment was only momentary. Because as soon as she felt it, it was quickly replaced with a surge of pride for her brother. So far, Teddy had only acted in commercials. A movie was a huge step up. And so what if her own dream had not come true? Teddy’s had, and that more than enough made up for it.
She forced her own feelings away, then opened her eyes and grinned at her brother. “A movie? Teddy, that’s amazing. Tell me everything!”
“It’s an independent movie,” Teddy began. “A gritty urban noir. My role is … dark… to say the least. I have a copy of the script. Do you want to see?”
“Of course!” Ali cried, nodding her head enthusiastically.
As Teddy unzipped his bag and began to rummage inside, Ali suddenly remembered about their mother’s planned stop-over that morning. When she’d told him their mother had finally booked her long overdue first visit to the bakery, he’d promptly declared he’d be giving Ali, the store, and the entirety of Willow Bay a very wide berth that weekend. It wasn’t that Teddy disliked their mother, but he’d built up some pretty firm boundaries over the years in order to cope with her constant criticism.
