by K. J. Emrick
The little tan Chihuahua tucked his tail closer and went back to sleep. Cookie turned her pillow sideways and inserted it behind her back. Might as well be comfortable. From the nightstand, next to her little alarm clock, she picked up her glasses and the rest of her mail from earlier. Not the remaining bills. Those were downstairs where she could ignore them for a while. At least these things she could go through without developing an ulcer.
This one was a charity asking for money. “Oh that, I could afford to do that.” Maybe next month.
Of course, no one had ever promised she’d make it rich running a bakery. And now she had a teen to feed. She remembered how much Madison had eaten as a teenager in her home, and adjusted that forward for today’s prices.
Sigh.
The next piece of mail she picked up surprised her.
“If this were the right time of year, I’d say it was a Christmas card.”
The envelope was silver in color and felt like high quality stock. She didn’t recognize the return address. Her name and the bakery’s address were written in very precise script. Now who would be sending her something like this?
Only one way to find out.
She slid her finger under the flap and opened it. The inside of the envelope was gold, once again evoking the sense of a holiday greeting. Inside was a very sharply folded piece of paper. Nice paper, too. Matched the quality of the envelope.
Cream didn’t stir as she opened her mail. Of course he wouldn’t. This was such a common thing for her to be doing that it didn’t even disturb him anymore. Cookie crossed her legs at her ankles and stared at the fine paper. She hadn’t received a letter on stationary in years.
Unfolding the single page, she set the envelope aside, and read the finely printed words. It was from a businessman in town. Benjamin Roth.
“Now why are you sending me a letter, Benjamin Roth?”
Dear Karen,
I am writing to inform you how very interested I am in purchasing your business. I have bought the land around yours and need your building and the land as a final acquisition. A development project of mine is being held up without this one purchase. I need your building to finish the plans.
I’m hoping we can meet and come to an amicable agreement on price.
Cookie was speechless. Nevermind that Benjamin had called her by her true first name—all her friends called her Cookie—but where did he come across offering to buy her property? The building was not for sale. It was more than just her business. It was her home. Reading on, she saw that Benjamin Roth wanted to build a mall where her property existed.
“A mall? Right in town?”
What was Widow’s Rest coming to?
Her first reaction was anger. She didn’t want to sell. She’d never said anything about selling. To anyone. Not that she couldn’t use the money, but not like this! There was no way she was going to sell away all her hard work.
Cream stirred. Cookie hadn’t realized how much she was moving around under the covers. She was upset, and really she felt like she had a right to be…
Then her dog was on his feet barking.
“What is it Cream?” Her Chihuahua ignored her, instead, he jumped off the bed to the bedroom floor, padding to the door, his little claws clicking out a staccato pattern. Cookie didn’t know what to make of this. He’d never barked at phantoms before.
Curious, worried even, she threw off the covers and got her feet on the floor. Cream was still making a fuss, his little body shaking with every bark.
“Shh. You’ll wake Clarissa.”
He didn’t stop. He waited impatiently, dancing around her feet yapping the whole time, while she threw on her robe, then he darted out of the room and went to the door that opened to the steps. He scratched at it like he wanted to go out. “Is that all it is, boy? You need to go for a walk?” He’d never been this agitated about it before. He must have to go real bad.
He barked until she opened the door and then he ran down the steps as fast as his little legs could carry him.
Cookie started to follow, shaking her head, but then a thought occurred to her that made her smile slip. Cream always waited for her when he wanted to go outside. They always went out together. It was one of their little routines. The only times that he raced off on his own was when there was someone at the front door…
Oh.
He only acted like this when there was someone downstairs.
Now she closed the door behind her and started slowly moving down, step by step. Her concern for her dog overrode anything else.
She could hear him barking in the front of the bakery. She followed the sound of his barking, not turning on the lights. She didn’t see anyone. She didn’t hear anyone. The only sound was Cream.
When she peeked around the wall, her dog was standing in the middle of the bakery, barking at the front door.
“Cream, come.”
The dog whuffed and looked back at her, like he didn’t understand why she didn’t get it. She looked around the room, at the table and chairs and the glass display cases, but didn’t see what had the dog so upset.
Cream stopped and sat, but his gaze never left the front door. Summoning her courage, Cookie turned on the lights in her shop.
Still, there was nothing to see.
Then she remembered the boy in black standing outside her shop. Had he come back?
She went over to Cream. From here, she had a better view outside. In the glow cast by the lights through her windows, she could see the empty street, the sidewalk, the lawn. No one was there.
Shaking her head, she picked up her dog and scratched under his chin. “What is your problem? You’re going to give me a heart attack.”
He wagged his little tail and she couldn’t stay mad at him. Enough was enough, though. He didn’t want to go out and there was no one here. She wanted to get back to bed and wrestle with sleep to see if she might be able to doze for another hour or so.
Before she could move, the hair on the back of her neck stood straight up. She snuggled Cream close as she looked out the front window.
Still the same dark, and nothingness. There was a feeling though. She couldn’t shake it. Like someone was watching her. She’d be on display in her pajamas for anyone walking by and oh, what a sight she’d be! She scurried to turn off the lights. Now she was alone, in the dark, with her dog. If anyone was here, this would be the moment when they jumped out to shout “Boo.”
But no one did, and she felt like the foolish old woman that she was.
She kissed the top of her dog’s head. He licked her face and acted like his normal self again, and she figured the threat was over.
If there had even been one. She still wasn’t sure what he’d been barking at. With one final glance around her bakery, she trudged through the kitchen and up the steps again. Clarissa had stayed asleep through the whole event. Cookie thanked God for small favors.
When she reached her bedroom, she settled Cream back in his spot at the bottom of the bed. Sliding under the covers, she picked up the letter from Benjamin Roth and read through it one more time.
Insufferable man.
A yawn sprung from deep inside. She was surprised to find that sleep was going to cozy up with her after all. Turning off the light, she pulled her covers up to her chin.
“Good night, Cream. No more barking tonight, all right?”
The dog answered with a snore. Of course he’d be back to sleep so easily. She chuckled, yawning and settling further into her bed.
A momentary sense of someone watching her slipped over her again but faded away as her eyes closed and sleep took her.
***
The next morning Cookie began her day with baking, as she did every morning. Clarissa hadn’t shown her face yet, but she decided to give her another half hour then roust her out of bed. It was her first day here. No sense in being too hard on her.
The sun was peeking over the horizon when Cookie pulled the first muffins out of the oven. Chocolate
chip. She slid the cranberry-nut ones in to take their place. With the smells of sweet things in the air accompanied by the sounds of metal tins sliding on racks, Cookie smiled to herself. She couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
With a few minutes on her hands before anything else would be ready, Cookie started the coffee maker. Today would be a Sumatran blend and some French Vanilla. Her customers liked the variety she offered but truthfully that was all she had left and her supplier certainly wasn’t going to bring her any more until they received the check she would send out later today.
Back in the kitchen she filled the crème puffs, then put the tray in the display case, making sure to set aside the special order lactose free crème puff for one of her regular customers.
The bell above the door jingled as she was sliding the glass closed. It was still early, and the bakery wasn’t officially open for another half hour yet, but she always left the door open around this time for her favorite police officer.
Officer Jerry Stansted smiled at her as he took off his blue hat with its black brim. She couldn’t help but smile back at him. Seeing him made her day. Just like it always did.
Just a few years younger than she was, Jerry cut an impressive figure in that blue uniform shirt of his. He had a full head of white hair and a clean-shaven face that featured a square jaw and dimples. He was tall and probably the most handsome man Cookie had ever seen. Her heart always fluttered a little when he turned those hazel eyes her way.
“Good morning, Cookie.”
She kept her private thoughts about how handsome he was to herself. One of these days, she promised herself, she was going to ask him out on a date. Lord knows she’d given him enough chances to ask her. “Good morning, Officer Stansted. Morning cupcake?”
“Excuse me?” His one eyebrow arched up.
Cookie felt herself blush. She hadn’t meant to call him… “I mean, would you like a cupcake this morning?”
Suddenly the bakery was very warm.
“Oh,” he grinned at her. “For a moment I thought you were getting fresh with me.”
That innocent act of his wasn’t helping her blush go away. “Well. Um. I know you usually like your bagel, but the cupcakes are fresh. I thought you might like to try something different.”
“All right, I’m sold. What flavors do you have today?”
“I have Irish Cream and I have some chocolate with chocolate icing.”
The Irish Cream was a new addition and she hoped he’d try it to get his opinion. She appreciated his take on things. He never sugarcoated it.
No pun intended.
“Irish Cream sounds interesting. Did you know I’m half Irish, on my mother’s side?”
She did, in fact. She knew a lot of interesting little facts about Officer Jerry Stansted. “Do tell?” she said, not letting on. She liked to hear him talk.
While he told her a little about how his mother’s great-something-or-other grandfather had immigrated to America in the mid-1800s—a story he’d told her before—she took out one of the Irish Cream cupcakes with the green frosting and put it on a plate for him.
Handing him the plate, she remembered the events of last night. She wanted to tell him about the young man and how much of a fright he’d given her, lurking about the place, and how Cream had gone on his little fit of barking for no apparent reason. The thing was, she felt foolish about it. Kids loitered. That’s one of the things they excelled at. Dogs barked. In the light of day, she really felt like she’d been overreacting. It was all so innocent and harmless.
Wasn’t it?
While she stood there debating with herself, Jerry took a few bites of the cupcake. “Oh, Cookie,” he said. “You’ve outdone yourself.”
He had some of the green icing on his face. She so wanted to reach out and clean it off for him, just to touch him, but she was sure that if she did that her eyes would give away her very impure thoughts. A woman her age, thinking of such things.
Well. She was middle-aged. She wasn’t dead.
Still, she put her hands behind her back. Just to be safe. “You have some icing on your lips.”
“Oh? Thanks.”
He licked around his lips and her mouth went dry. This would be a perfect moment to ask him out. Seize the day. Take the first step. She even opened her mouth to make the words come out… when the shopkeeper’s bell rang again and a customer came into the shop. Apparently she was open for business now, after all.
The young woman, mousy brown hair piled up on top of her head, came up to the counter with a sidelong glance at Jerry. Somehow she managed to shift her body closer to him as she stood there waiting to give her order.
“What can I get for you?” Cookie asked her.
“I need a blueberry muffin to go.”
The woman paid in cash and then left. But then it was time to take out the cranberry muffins and time to put in the first loaves of bread, and then there were other customers coming in, and Jerry was already looking at his watch and eating the last of his cupcake.
“Jerry,” she said, in between filling orders, “do you have time to hang around and talk to me? Um. Something happened last night and I need your opinion.”
He nodded, checking his watch one more time. “I’ve got a few minutes.”
A man came in after that. He was dressed as if he worked on a construction site with an orange vest over a rugged gray shirt. Her customers ran the gamut from people in business suits to those who worked in trades. She didn’t care. She loved them all. She was a little curious about where there was construction going on, though.
“Could I have a dozen donuts,” he asked, politely, “and six large coffees?”
She served him and he left. The number of customers so early in her day made her happy.
After two more people, they had the shop to themselves again. Jerry’s eyes had been on her the whole time, and she had been very aware of that fact. She tried to think of some flirty comment to make, some witty words to string together to let him know that she was at least a little bit interested in him. Nothing came. How had this been so easy when she was Clarissa’s age? She had an image flash through her mind quickly, of herself asking her granddaughter for dating advice.
She nearly dropped a tray of Rice Krispies treats on the floor.
“So,” Jerry said to her. “I’ve got to go back to my rounds if I don’t want the Chief to fire me. What can I do for you, Cookie?”
She wondered if saying, take me in your arms and remind me how easy this used to be, would be a touch too forward. Probably.
“Well, last night—” she started.
The bell above the door jangled and Cookie sighed, giving Jerry a look that begged him for just another minute.
It was Julien Benner who entered her shop. Cookie sighed again. Of all the people to interrupt her, it had to be him. He was always impatient and rude and arrogant. She had one of those little joke signs set up near the register that warned she had the right to refuse service to anyone who didn’t smile, but money was money. Even Julien’s. Considering he paid her extra to make him a lactose free crème puff each morning.
“I’d like my usual crème puff, please” he said, managing to make please sound like a royal decree.
He wore an impeccably tailored gray suit, like always, and shoes that probably cost more than what the bakery earned her in a month. He held himself ramrod straight, and his aquiline nose was turned up above a perpetual sneer. She truly disliked this man, and there were few people in the world she could say that about.
When Cookie didn’t move right away, Julien sniffed. “Could we get that today?”
“Hey, Julien, you in a hurry?” Jerry asked him.
Julien pulled a look. “I have an important meeting today.”
“Oh yeah? Must be in a hurry, then.” Jerry folded his arms. “That’s no reason to take it out on Cookie.”
Julien shrugged. “This is a bakery. People come in to buy baked goods, or so I suppose. I asked for someth
ing, I’m expecting it. Is there some law against that, Officer?”
Cookie saw Jerry’s eyes harden. She cleared her throat. “One lactose free crème puff. Here we are.”
She took the one she’d set aside earlier from the display case with a piece of waxed paper and set it in a paper bag that she handed to Julien. He took it from her and then set it down on the counter to take out his long wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket. Even the man’s money was flat and pressed.
Cream chose that moment to scamper into the bakery and bark. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be in here during business hours. She told him to shush, and then shooed him back the way he’d come.
“Damn dogs. How can you possibly let him in here with all of this food?” Julien glared down at Cream. “Not bad enough I have to listen to them bark all night, now here’s one shedding all over my confectionary.”
If the man was any more uptight, Cookie thought… wait. “Did you say you heard a dog barking last night?”
He sniffed. “Yes, that is what I said. Very loudly, I might add. Officer,” he snarked at Jerry, “aren’t there noise ordinances in Widow’s Rest?”
“There are,” Jerry had to admit. “In fact, I had to remind my own neighbor about them last night. Same problem. His dog got to barking around, oh, two in the morning.”
Cookie blinked. That was the same time Cream had started in on his little escapade. Was it a coincidence?”
“Well,” Julien said, laying down a ten-dollar bill on the counter, “I’ve no idea what time my neighbor’s mutt began waking me up, but it was late. Why can’t people just have cats?”
Cream barked at that, two sharp rapports that actually made Julien back away from the petite canine. Cookie was torn between scolding him for still being in the shop and telling him he was a good dog for his taste in people.
While Julien waited for her to make change, he took the palm-sized crème puff from its bag and began taking dainty bites from around the edges. He actually smiled as he ate, which Cookie took as high praise.
He put the partially eaten pastry back into its bag to accept his change and then, with another sneer at Cream, he turned toward the door.