by Sara Davison
A young man had hopped off his bike while she’d been standing there. He locked it into the metal stand in front of the bakery and pulled open the door so she could go in. Summer smiled and nodded at him as she entered the warm, cozy bakery, the aromas inside even headier than those that had drifted out the door.
The place was small, with a stool-lined bar running under the front window and six or seven small round tables scattered across the wood-hewn floor. Brightly-colored paintings covered the walls, a sign describing them as works done by local artists. Wooden shelves filled with books filled the wall space above and down both sides of the mantel of a fireplace that was likely gas but looked remarkably real. It was one of the most welcoming spaces Summer had ever been in. Once she had her life figured out a little better, she was definitely going to spend a lot of time at the—she glanced at the sign on the wall behind the cash register—Taste of Heaven Café. She grinned. Obviously she wasn’t the first person to liken the little shop to paradise.
Overwhelmed by the long counter covered by platters of baked goods of various kinds, she waved the biker ahead of her in line. He stepped to the counter and ordered a large black coffee and a nut and seed health bar. Seriously? Who had the self-control to walk out of this place carrying the sum total of about a hundred calories? She rolled her eyes. Somebody who could look like that in athletic wear, that’s who. And who rode his bike when the ground was covered in two feet of snow.
Not that she was going to worry about that today. She’d had a rough few days—few weeks, actually—and she was definitely going to treat herself to something sinfully decadent. She scanned the row of goodies and knew as soon as her gaze landed on the pastry what she wanted. Summer strolled to the counter. A woman about her age grinned at her, deepening the dimple to the right side of her round, freckled face. “What can I get you?”
“Large coffee with double cream and a chocolate croissant, please.” Just saying the words sent a thrill of anticipation through Summer.
“Coming right up.” The woman, whose name tag identified her as Daphne, rang up her purchase, handed her the change, and went to retrieve her drink and pastry. In less than a minute she was back, handing Summer a large steaming cup and a plate with the croissant on it.
“Thanks so much.” Summer accepted both from her and took a few steps toward an empty stool at the front window. On impulse, she turned back. “You aren’t by any chance hiring, are you?”
The woman tilted her head, her blonde ponytail brushing her shoulder. “Not officially, no.”
Not officially? What did that mean? “So, unofficially then?”
The woman laughed and looked around the room. Summer followed her gaze. Three women sat at one table, deep in conversation punctuated by rounds of laughter. Four other tables were occupied by people working away on laptops or staring at their phones. No one had come into the shop since the guy in front of Summer had breezed out and jumped onto his bike. The woman nodded toward the front window. “Why don’t I grab a coffee and we’ll chat for a few minutes.”
“Great.” Her heart rate picked up as she wended her way around a couple of empty tables and settled onto a stool. Was it possible the woman would consider recommending that her boss hire Summer? Working in a place like this would be a welcome respite from everything that was going on in her life at the moment. God, if this is where I’m meant to be, help the owner or manager or whoever makes those decisions to see that. She contemplated the brief prayer. It still shocked her how easily the words came to her, but it comforted her too. Although she couldn’t remember how she’d come to have a faith, it felt more real and true than anything else in her life, a huge missing piece of the puzzle the last few years had become.
Even if it didn’t work out to get a job here, she’d enjoy her croissant—still warm where it rested against her thumb as Summer set the plate down on the bar—maybe make a new friend, and then be on her way, having discovered a haven she could come to whenever she needed to get away from the chaos around her.
The woman, an apron tied around the long pink shirt she wore over brightly-flowered tights, set a large blue mug on the bar and plunked herself down on the stool beside Summer. “I’m Daphne, as you can see.” She pointed to her name tag. “Daphne Cook.”
“Ana Santos.”
Daphne picked up her mug. “I haven’t seen you in here before.”
“I’ve never been. Although I definitely plan to become a regular.”
“That’s good to hear.”
Summer shifted on the seat to face her. “I’m new to Elora, actually. Which is why I asked if you were hiring.” She shot a glance at the kitchen entrance. “Should I talk to a supervisor or the owner?”
“That would be me, hon. My husband and I bought the place eight months ago. He’s the baker, and I handle the front counter.” She sipped her coffee and set down the mug. “I know, I know, Cook the baker. I’ve heard all the jokes so you can save yourself the trouble.” The dimple flashed again.
Summer grinned. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Not after she’d faced Summer jokes during all the other seasons of the year since moving to Canada. She couldn’t share any of those with Daphne, of course.
“What brought you to Elora?”
Her chest tightened a little. Dangerous territory. “I needed a new start.”
“Man trouble?”
You have no idea. “Something like that.”
Daphne picked up her mug again. “I get that, honey.” She glanced over at the kitchen. “Not now, of course. Thankfully I emerged from the swamp of pathetic, flopping fishes clutching on to a good one, but I definitely do get it.”
Summer laughed at the image. She herself had wallowed in that pond more times than she cared to remember. A thought struck her and she stilled. Had she been in it recently? Did she have a man in her life that she didn’t even remember? Panic gripped her and she looked down at her ring finger. Bare. Her shoulders relaxed. If she did have a man, he’d have to be one of those pathetic ones Daphne had referred to, since he hadn’t even come to see her in the hospital. She gave her head a little shake. The dart of pain that shot through it reminded her she still had a ways to go in the healing process. Likely on more levels than just physically. Cheeks warm, she lifted her head and met Daphne’s gaze.
The woman was watching her, a thoughtful look on her face. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just experienced a few flopping fish flashbacks of my own. I think I need a bite of this to recover.” She lifted the croissant and bit into it, flakes of pastry sprinkling her sweater. She moaned in pleasure as the buttery dough and warm melted chocolate swirled over her tongue.
Daphne grinned. “That’s the response we hope for. I’ll pass your approval along to Shawn—he’ll appreciate it.”
“Please do.” Summer set the croissant down and wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. “So I’m curious about what you meant by not officially hiring.”
Daphne wrapped both hands around her mug. “Well, Shawn and I decided when we bought the place that, start-up costs being what they are, we’d go as long as we could with only the two of us working here. Thing is, the business has done a lot better than we expected it to at this point, all credit to him and his incredible baking skills which”—she patted her slightly chubby belly and offered Summer a rueful look—“I am far too acquainted with. The last few weeks I have been thinking it would be nice to have another person around to help me. I never get a day off, can’t even leave the shop during business hours as no one would be here to help customers, so it’s been a bit more of a tie than I’d anticipated.”
Summer clasped her hands in her lap, hardly daring to hope. “So you know, I fell in love with this place the second the door opened and I smelled all the delicious odors wafting out. I have waitressing experience and, judging from this croissant, I won’t have any trouble extolling the virtues of your husband’s wares to any and all customers who wander in. Not to mention that I am available immediately a
nd my schedule is wide open, so I’d be happy to take as few or as many hours as you wanted to give me. I’d say that I would be willing to work for pastries, but I do need to pay my rent, although I wouldn’t expect more than minimum wage.”
Daphne gazed at her over the rim of her pottery mug. “Goodness, that’s quite a spiel. I suppose I should look at a resume if you have one, and of course I’ll have to talk to Shawn, but something tells me you and I would have a great time working together.”
“I completely agree.” Summer unclasped her hands and nabbed a croissant crumb from the plate with her finger. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a computer here yet, so I don’t have a hard copy of my resume, but you can check out my…” She hesitated. Daphne was studying her with such an open, guileless look. Did she really want to start out their friendship with a lie? It was too dangerous to share her real name, but the manufactured background? She blew out a breath. “Look, here’s the truth. I recently suffered a head injury and can’t remember anything about the last few years of my life.” Her Spanish accent always thickened when she was flustered, and she nearly tripped over the English now as it came out of her mouth. “I do know I waited tables in university, but can not remember what I did after that, so I created a fake LinkedIn profile for myself to show employers. The thing is, I do not feel right about using it, so there you go.” She lifted both hands, palms up. “I can’t tell you what I’ve been doing the last six or seven years, although I wasn’t lying about having experience waiting tables. I do remember that much.
“In any case, I completely understand if you can’t hire me when I have nothing to offer you to prove to you that I have any recent experience that would enable me to do this job and contemplated making something up. In fact,”—cheeks burning, Summer slid off the stool and stood—“lo siento. I’m sorry I took up your time. Although I can not say I am sorry I came in here since it is such a lovely, cozy place. I’ll be sure to come back soon and try—”
Daphne stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Whoa. Slow down.” Her bright blue eyes twinkled. “You not having a resume wouldn’t have stopped me from hiring you, although finding out you’d lied to me might have. So I’m glad you chose to be honest, because I’ve decided that I would really, really like to work with you, Ana Santos. Pending Shawn’s approval, I think we can work something out.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Now hop back up there and finish that croissant. My husband takes it as a personal insult if customers leave a crumb on their plates.”
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to insult the baker.” Summer climbed back up and reached for the croissant. She stopped with the treat midway to her mouth. “Thank you, Daphne. Even if your husband doesn’t agree, it means a lot to me that you would want me to come work here. I admit I was a little discouraged when I was passing by your bakery this morning, but you’ve made me feel a whole lot better about things. Well, you and this gooey chocolate.” She dipped a finger into a splotch that had landed on her plate and stuck it in her mouth. “How does your husband do it?”
Daphne lifted her shoulders. “I have no idea. I’m perfectly content to let him bake for me without asking him any of his secrets. If he shares them, he might expect me to start making some of the things myself, which would upset the delicate balance of responsibilities we have achieved both here and at home.”
“Smart woman.” Summer took another bite of the pastry and washed it down with the rich coffee. “Do you have any kids?”
“Shawn has a son, Cory, who’s great. You’ll likely see him around here from time to time when he’s on a break from college.” A slight glumness settled on her face. “Shawn and I don’t have any kids together, though. We’d like them, but we’ve been married four years and it hasn’t happened for us yet. We thought it was going to, last year, but we lost the baby right before Christmas.” Brightening, she elbowed Summer in the arm. “We’re sure having fun trying again though.” She clapped a hand over her mouth then lowered it, her round cheeks pink. “That’s TMI, isn’t it? Shawn’s always telling me I give out too much personal information to people. I can’t help myself, though. I believe everyone has a story, and I want to hear it so badly sometimes I forget they might not want to hear every detail of mine.” She reached over and covered Summer’s hand with hers. “I can tell you’ve got an interesting one that you’re not quite willing to share yet. That’s fine.” She patted Summer’s hand before pulling back. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”
“Gracias. Thank you.”
“De nada.”
Summer raised an eyebrow.
Daphne smiled. “I fell in love with Mexico during a family trip to Acapulco when I was twelve.”
“That’s where I’m from! Well, not Acapulco, but Mexico.”
“Really? That is so cool.” Daphne inhaled sharply. “I’ve been practicing for years and have gotten pretty fluent, but it’s hard when I have no one to practice on. Maybe you could help me polish it up a little?”
“I’d love to.”
“And you can help me teach Shawn too.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “There’s nothing sexier than a man who speaks another language.” She pressed her lips together and glanced around the shop. “Oops. Probably shouldn’t talk like that. Our pastor comes in here for coffee sometimes, and while he likely wouldn’t care, Shawn might not appreciate me talking like that in front of him.”
“You go to church?”
“Yes. Do you?”
“I think so.”
Daphne cocked her head again. “You think so?”
Summer ran a finger around the plastic rim of her coffee cup lid. “Yes. I didn’t have a faith growing up, but something must have happened to me in the last few years, something I don’t remember, because I know I have one now. I’ve been praying and it feels very real and natural, like God is right there with me.”
“Which he is, of course. Hey, why don’t you come to church with us on Sunday? Everyone’s really friendly—it would be a great way to get to know people in town.”
Summer felt a little dizzy. Partly the on-going effects of her head injury, but also because everything was happening so quickly. “I’ll definitely think about it.”
“Great.” Daphne hopped down off the stool. “Come say hi to Shawn so he can put a face to a name when I talk to him later.”
Summer followed her behind the swinging door and into the kitchen. Her blonde ponytail swinging, Daphne barreled toward a bearded, linebacker-sized man in a full-length black apron scooping a cup of flour out of a bag.
“Oof.” Her husband groaned when she hit him, flour spilling onto the counter and filling the air with dusky clouds. “Daph, for goodness sake.” He set down the cup, gripped both her shoulders, and planted a kiss on her lips. Despite his words, he didn’t seem to mind at all that she had interrupted him—forcefully—in the middle of his task. When he let her go, she stepped back and fanned her face with one hand.
Summer suppressed a smile. How much fun would it be to run a business with a spouse you were so clearly head over heels in love with?
“You could walk into the kitchen like a civilized person and say my name if you want my attention, you know.”
“I know, but that’s not nearly as fun.”
“I suppose not.” Shawn tapped her nose, leaving a dusting of flour across it. His gaze lifted above his wife’s head, as though he’d only now realized someone else was in the room. “Hi there. I’m Shawn.”
Summer stepped forward and held out her hand. “Ana. First time customer and now your biggest fan. The chocolate croissant I demolished a few minutes ago was the best I’ve ever had.”
The big man beamed as he gripped her hand in his flour-covered one. “That’s what we like to hear.”
As he let her go, bells jangled softly in the coffee shop. Daphne slid a hand through the crook of Summer’s arm. “Better get back to work. Just wanted to introduce you to Ana, who has graciously offered to start helpi
ng me out front. Well, see ya.”
She tugged Summer toward the exit. Summer caught a glimpse of Shawn standing behind the counter, covered in flour, his mouth hanging slightly open, before the door swung shut behind them. Daphne leaned in and, in a conspiratorial whisper, said, “Best to plant the idea and let it grow awhile. I’m sure it’ll take root, but I’ll have to let you know what he says. Do you have a number I can reach you at?”
Summer gulped. She had no phone, no number, no way for anyone to text or email her. How had she thought any prospective employers might contact her? “I’m sorry. I… I haven’t gotten a phone yet.”
“No worries. Why don’t you pop back in for a coffee tomorrow morning, and I can let you know what he said. That will give me the night to… you know, convince him.”
Summer pressed her lips together to keep from giggling. “I’ll do that. Thanks so much, Daphne.”
“My pleasure. See you tomorrow.” Her new friend winked at her before turning to greet a woman who stood at the counter, a baby tied to the front of her in a sling. Summer sobered. What was that like for Daphne, waiting on mothers who came in with babies and small children when she didn’t have any of her own? It certainly had to be a painful reminder of the one she had lost. Todo el mundo tiene problemas. You’re not the only one who’s suffered hardships. That helped put things in perspective.
Summer gathered up her garbage and dumped it in the bin on her way out the door. Had all of that really happened? She bit her lip. Daphne Cook might share too much personal information, but Summer had never felt drawn to anyone so quickly. If Mr. Cook the baker agreed—and given the way he looked at his wife, Summer had a pretty good feeling about that—nothing would make her happier than working with that woman, surrounded by all those glorious smells all day long.
A taste of heaven indeed.