“Probably.” Beth chuckled. “I wouldn’t put it past her. Mae is an evil genius and has everyone in town addicted to her baking.”
“Mae’s still here?” I asked, looking around. A young brunette woman was working behind the counter.
“That’s Mia,” Beth said, nodding at the woman serving a couple at the counter. “Mae is around here somewhere.”
Getting grilled by Mae had been a rite of passage each summer growing up. Before she’d give me my first cinnamon bun of the season, she had to have all the dirt about the previous year. I glanced at the cinnamon roll. It really was ridiculously large. How had I ever eaten one of those on my own?
“Are you sharing?” I asked.
“No. And don’t judge.” Beth pointed her finger at me. “The kids were monsters this morning. I’m surprised I made it out alive. This is my reward.”
“I wasn’t judging. I just don’t remember them being that big when we were kids.” I paused and looked at my friend. Really looked at her for the first time today. Bags darkened the skin under her eyes, and her shoulders hung wearily in a way I hadn’t noticed the last couple times I’d seen her. “You okay?”
“Yeah, fine.” Beth waved me off, then picked up a piece of cinnamon bun. “Nothing this won’t solve,” she said and poppedit in her mouth. Her eyes closed as she savored the flavor. “Oh my God, you have got to order one of these,” she mumbled around the mouthful of food.
“I’ll be right back.” I shook my head at her and laughed. Making my way to the counter, I scanned the little bakery again. Noticing more photos on the walls, some I remembered, some were new.
As I walked up to the counter, I glanced at the woman crouched down behind the counter arranging cups on a shelf. A long gray braid trailed down her back. She stood and turned around. Mae.
A smile instantly spread across my face at the sight of the familiar face. “Hi Mae.”
The older woman looked at me, her eyes narrowed before recognition lit her face. “Natalie?”
“Yep.” My shoulders rose and dropped quickly.
Mae rounded the counter. “Oh my goodness, Natalie Walsh, as I live and breathe,” she said as she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into her familiar embrace. “I never thought I’d see the day when you’d come back to our little town.”
“How could I stay away?”
Mae pulled back and smiled sadly at me. “I was really sorry to hear about your grandpa. He was a very special man.”
“Mmm.” I nodded. “He was.”
“You back to clean out his place?”
“Yeah, I am. I didn’t realize he was such a pack rat. The place is small, but he sure did jam the stuff in there.” I’d been prepared for the storage cellar under the house. The attic was a whole different story. I’d spent most of yesterday going through boxes of old pictures I’d found shoved up in the attic beneath old clothing from God knows when.
Mae chuckled. “Never know when you might need something.”
“Apparently. Although I’m pretty sure no one ever needed those running shorts.” I shuddered when I imagined my grandpa in the shortie shorts I’d found more than one pair of beneath the rubble.
Mae waggled her eyebrows. “Speak for yourself.”
“Ew.” I laughed.
Mae wandered back around the counter. “What can I get you, sweetheart? One of those cinnamon buns you always loved?”
I glanced at the giant rolls. I couldn’t even imagine how many hours in the studio it would take to burn off one of those. “No.” I shook my head. “Can I get an almond milk latte with…” I scanned the line of syrups on the shelf. “Do you have any sugar-free syrup?”
“Vanilla.”
“Perfect, and one pump of that, please.”
Mae eyed me. Her gaze roamed down my body in the way it often did when I ordered my coffee. When she raised her eyes, I stared back at her with my eyebrow raised, daring her to say something, and of course she did.
“Honey, a little sugar never killed anyone. You sure you don’t want the cinnamon bun? You used to love them,” she pressed.
“Mae, we both know there is more than a little sugar in one of those cinnamon buns, and yes, I’m sure I don’t want one. They smell great though.”
