Page 14 of Holding Ground

CHAPTER

FIVE

Emelia

As I walk across the lawn toward my vehicle, I take a fleeting glance at the ranch bungalow. I don’t see any signs of life, which is just as well.

When Elliott opened the door last night, I could scarcely believe it. I sent a small prayer up to the universe that he was just visiting Roy, but no such luck. I think I did a good job keeping my cool, but the truth is I’m unnerved by having to stay so close to him. I’ve grown used to feeling as if I don’t quite belong, but this takes it to an extreme. Clearly, the man actively dislikes me.

He doesn’t like who I represent, and he seems to think he has me all figured out. Far be it from me to tell him he’s wrong. He probably wouldn’t believe my intentions anyway.

The best I can hope for is to stay out of each other’s way for the next three months.

Baylor was a nice surprise, though. She got all the charm in the family because she’s adorable. Or the charm comes from the mom’s side, who I didn’t see last night. Not that it means anything. She could have been working or in the house since they ate dinner inside, so she may have been occupied while Elliott was cooking.

He might be a dick, but lots of women would overlook that big detail since he’s droolworthy. I hate myself for even noticing, but lord knows I’ve done it a time or two.

I need to go to the grocery store today, but I plan on spending the weekend checking out the local businesses in town and talking to their owners ahead of the town hall meeting next week.

The best way to help this community is to understand what it needs or wants—to shape the narrative when I pitch Brahmin Development’s plans. We’re not here to bulldoze Echo Lake like Elliott seems to assume. We want to add to what’s already here.

When I reach Main Street, I park and begin exploring. My first stop is the bakery I noticed yesterday. The outside of the shop is painted a pale pink with a robin’s egg blue door and has an awning with the same blue and white stripes. There are two sets of white iron tables and chairs set outside. Gold letters spell out Birdhouse Bakery on the glass flanking the door.

My mouth waters when I step in and the scent of pastries and sugar wafts around me. I wasn’t starving when I woke up, but now my stomach grumbles in protest.

There are a few tables inside, and the bakery case painted the same robin’s egg blue is flanked by wooden shelves lining the wall behind the counter, loaded with more baked goods than I can take in at once.

The only thing not feminine in the shop is the behemoth of a man standing behind the counter. He’s wearing a flannel shirt under a plain white apron that bulges slightly over his belly, and he sports a dark gray beard and lighter gray hair. He’s at least six feet four, and I’m unsure how he makes such dainty baked goods with hands like catcher’s mitts.

He’s not being overtly friendly, and it would be easy to feel intimidated. I don’t. There’s something patient and calm about his manner.

“Good morning.” I step forward and gaze into the display, mouth watering.

Pastries line the trays, glistening under the lights. They look as though they belong in a magazine. I notice the little chalkboard signs displaying the names of each item in surprisingly elegant script.

Dottie’s Secret…

Roy’s Reliable…

The Ansel (proceed with caution)…

Elliott’s Wall…

“I’ve got some cupcakes in the back that need icing.” He chuckles, but his point is made. I’m taking up his time.

“Sorry, it’s just…these names, they’re interesting.”

He shrugs a big shoulder. “They’ve all got the proper names.”

“Um…what’s the difference between Dottie’s Secret and Elliott’s Wall?”

“Dottie’s Secret is a filled pastry that has a different filling every time I make it. It’s a mystery, and before you ask, no, I won’t tell you what’s in today’s batch. Elliott’s Wall is a layered bar cookie with a hard chocolate shell you have to crack through to get to the soft, buttery shortbread underneath.” One corner of his mouth creeps up. “Sound like anyone you know?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Not really. I just got to town.” Is Elliott’s Wall named after the Elliott I know? I’m not sure there’s anything soft or sweet about the man I met yesterday.

“Give it a day.”

I chuckle. “All right, I’m going to go with Dottie’s Secret. You get so few surprises in life, right?”