A man in a jacket and thinning brown hair came in, and Reno stood up abruptly. But then he saw the man had no mustache, and looked closer to sixty than forty. Reno relaxed.
“The man said, “I’m here for two trays of cinnamon rolls for the Stevens place. Pickup at eleven.”
“It’s almost two o’clock, Sir.”
“So I’m late.”
“Let me go in the back and see if I can find them.”
Bless Grace. The large flat boxes were clearly marked with the name Stevens, a note that they’d already been paid for, and were even securely taped shut. He picked up the two boxes and carried them out front.
The guy took the boxes with a word of thanks, turned, and left.
Lily declared, “He’s not very nice.”
“Not everybody is.”
“They should be.”
“I don’t think the world got the memo on that, Kid.”
He spent the remaining time until the shop closed helping a few last minute customers while Lily told him about preschool and a boy named Malcolm, and the difference between donkeys and ponies. He explained the difference between a hawk and an eagle, and she told him her mommy had three plants on their kitchen windowsill named Susie, Penny, and Lord Baxter.
At two o’clock, he locked the front door, turned the open sign to closed, and lowered the front window blinds. He relocated Lily to a work table in the kitchen, where she told him she’d been making Lord Baxter walk around the table at breakfast that morning, but her mother had asked her to stop because Lord Baxter was a basil and basils didn’t have feet.
Grace came back at three-fifteen and Lily ran over to her and all but knocked Grace over hugging her. “Mommy!”
“Hello, Baby.”
Grace looked like her adrenaline had gone home and left her behind. She had cake icing on her cuff and came in barefoot, holding her shoes in one hand and empty cake boards in the other.
“Successful?” Reno asked.
“The bride cried when she saw the flowers and cake, the mother of the bride cried, and the maid of honor cried. That’s success in my book.”
“Did you cry?”
“I do not cry over wedding cakes.”
“Glad we cleared that up.”
“Anything weird happen today?” she asked under her breath.
“A van drove super slow past the front of the shop then sped up once it passed. No markings. Navy. Tinted side windows, Montana plates.”
“That’s the same as one the fake utility guy was driving.”
“I never heard anyone say Thursday’s van was blue. I just assumed it was white. Don’t know why I did that, now that I think about it.”
She closed her eyes, not in dismay so much as being too tired to deal with this right now.
“Grace.“
“I know. Wheeler.”
He added regretfully, “Today.”
She didn’t open her eyes for a beat. When she did, she murmured, “Thank you.”
