Wildflower

“Mhmm,” she hummed in agreement as she sipped her coffee. “Cheese is always waking me up before my alarm clock too. But he is a perfect nap partner.” Her bulldog may have been an unlikely companion, but she’d adopted him more than seven years ago now. He’d been as much hers as Nate’s. “You poor thing! My advice on that is stop after the sixth season. All the rest is garbage and disappointment. But really just do anything you like. That’s what vacation is for.”

Tereik was new in town, but even he understood that if you wanted to go to a bakery when things were a little bit calmer, you needed to go later in the morning and his doctor was getting on him about being underweight, so he was going to try and get something to eat here and do some more work on translating his book, but he hadn’t expected it to be almost totally empty when he and his service dog walked in that day.  Cracking a smile at her comment, Tereik laughed, “It’s alright, good morning.  I definitely need to get some coffee, but I’m totally open for any recommendations you might have on what I should have for breakfast.  The worse for me it is, the better, honestly, I’m having one of those days.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Wiping her hands on the edges of her old apron, she stepped up to the counter with a smile. She’d heard talk at the local haunts about ‘the man from Cairo’ a ‘gravedigger or something other’ but she hadn’t yet laid eyes on him. “Personally I’m a fan of the cheese danishes, cinnamon rolls, or lemon bars when I’m looking to flat line on sugar. Or all three if it’s one of those spectacularly shitty days.”

She leaned up on her toes to peer down at his dog. “What’s this one’s name?”

Throwing some stuff on the desk drawer and then grabbing his phone and keys he got up, giving the woman he considered a real sister a quick one-armed hug. “You won’t believe the fucking week I had.” He mentioned as he shook his head and closed the door behind him. “Just…  un-fucking-believable! I’m tellin’ ya’.” Stopping close to Nelly, Ace looked left and right to check no one was around. “My… mother’s daughter is here. She fucking moved into town.” He whispered.

“Forgetting things already, huh? I’d be offended if you weren’t such a senior citizen now” She slipped on a small smile as she watched him gather his things up. She’d been teasing him about turning thirty for months before the actual date actually rolled around. She was barely a year younger, but it was the principal of the matter. She could see the stress bunched about his shoulders and tightened along his jaw, but she’d always found it was better not to bring attention to what was bothering him. He’d either tell her or he wouldn’t. 

She lifted her chin and stretched up into his hug and then stepped out into the hall with him. Her eyebrows perked at what he said. “Sophie? In Frostford?” The topic of Ace’s mother came up infrequently, and the topic of the half-sibling he had in California even less so. That part of her family was as distant and unknown as a stranger to her. “What is she doing here?”

“Well all you got to do is ask and I’ll whip up something for you and the kids. You know where to find me.” She was obsessed with baking. She did it when she was sad, when she was happy, when she was bored. It was as much a part of her soul as Frostford itself. “As for Ace,” she smirked, “one day he will pay for his crimes. One day.”

Nelly dropped the tray on the counter, wiping her hands of four and brushing back her long hair. “It’s all fresh,” she said. “Everything on display was made this morning unless it says otherwise.” She leaned her elbows against the counter. “But if you’re looking for bread the mornin’ rush cleared us out. It was a bit Lord of the Flies for a Monday but hey those grannies got to get their sourdough right?”

“I’m a people person and there’s not a chance in hell that I’d spend my days calling people trying to sell insurance.” She chuckled at the very thought of being tied behind a desk doing call after call. She’d been lucky in her career if not in other things. “I think they have an app now that can block those calls though.”

Nelly wiped the flour dust off her hands with her apron, the edges of which were worn and faded. She was embarrassed to be caught out indulging her cravings but not surprised. “Shortbread. Fresh from the oven.” They were simply made with no flourishes or secret ingredients. She’d been making them since she was in pigtails. She gestured toward the tray. “You’re in luck because I made extra if you want to give it a try.”

“Ah, kindred spirit there,” she noted. She placed her tray aside and wiped her hands against her apron. It didn’t need to be added that she wasn’t supposed to be eating the sales in the front. By this point, her coworkers had given up on trying to stop her from sneaking a treat or two (or five) during the day. “Well we got some brownies that just were finished up a few hours ago. Or assorted cookie trays on the wall. If you have time to come back later I can also make gingerbread cupcakes if we’re going festive.”

“Oh he has humor,” she shot back. She’d been up for over six hours already and it was clear by the looks of the man that he’d possibly been just going to bed at the time she was rolling out. She offered him a smile, half-embarrassed and half-charm. “But he’s unfortunately out of luck. We got our senior citizens in an hour ago, swept them clear.” She offered him out the plate of freshly baked shortbreads she’d whipped up. The tray was still warm in her palm. She’d made extra (as she always did). “For your troubles.”

It was a Wednesday, which meant a day off from the bakery and day when she could sleep past sunrise. She finally rolled herself into the shower and fresh clothes in the late morning. She dropped into her parents with fresh blueberry muffins and then dropped Cheese, her overweight frenchie, off at the groomer to get a bath. There were chores and bills and all the annoyingly adult things in life that had come with paying your own rent.

She grabbed two cups of coffee from the corner store, before heading over to the high school. It was unchanged from her own days walking these halls. There were the bleachers she’d sneak behind for smoke and makeout sessions with Nate, and the lobby with the school crest hung proudly. She made her way into the office, tapping on Ace’s door before swinging it open. They’d texted earlier in the week to met for lunch.

“Hey there counselor,” she grinned as she poked her head in the office. “Hang up your cape, pat some shoulders, and come grab a bite with little old me.”

After the morning rush at Wild Flour with sleep deprived workers and feral grandmas crowding around for freshly baked loaves things tended to die down in the cafe. They’d recover, clean, and then fire up the ovens for more intricate orders like birthday cakes, or scones or (her favorite) cupcakes. By late morning, it was dead, and she was brewing her second cup of coffee her fingers duster with flour. She slipped around the front of the shop with a platter of shortbread cookies, sneaking a few for herself as she went to go wrap them. She had a mouthful when the door jingled upon. “Oh shit,” she muttered around the cookie. Everyone else was in the back. She swallowed. “I mean, um, good morning.”

@frostfordstart