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CHAPTER TEN
Maggie
At 3:55am station timeon December 23rdI boarded the hover-vator. I’d done it dozens of times by now, but this time was different. This time, it was my first day of working in my bakery.My bakery.
It’s finally happening, Gran.
My stomach churned with nervous excitement. Despite the early hour and the lack of sleep, I barely felt tired, too wired from the adrenaline sloshing through my veins. I was looking forward to getting into the kitchen and letting muscle memory take over. Baking was a deeply meditative act for me, and I had a feeling that the quiet time would be sorely needed before all the chaos of my first day began.
I stepped off the hover-vator at floor 1200, weaving through the sparse early-morning crowds. My heart pounded, my fingers tingling, as I hurried towards my shop.
My shop. It was mine. I’d built it, along with my friends. Along with Archie. Along with Gran’s support.
Mine.
It even said so, right above the shop.Maggie’sspelled out in beautifully curving letters.
Wait. What?!
Yup. There was a sign, hung with care precisely above the centre of my shop. I came to a grinding halt, staring up at it in wonder and confusion.
“Do you like it?”
I jumped, my gaze snapping downward. In all my shock about the sign, I hadn’t seen Archie standing below it.
“Like it?!” I gasped, turning my gaze up to stare at it again. “I love it!”
It appeared to be carved from the same wood as the pub’s door. Smooth, glossy, and black, but dusted with some kind of warm, orange shimmer that matched the back wall inside. Intricate flowers, like the blossoms from Gran’s backyard, sprouted in artistically chosen spots all along the letters. My chest squeezed, my eyes filling with tears when I noticed two tiny figures carved into the bottom swoop of theSat the end – two women with curly hair, outlined in the wood.
“How... How did you get a spot at the laser carver’s on such short notice?” I asked, sniffing hard and looking at Archie.
“Ah. Didn’t. Carved by hand,” he said. As he stepped up to me, I noticed the bleary look in his eyes, the darkened circles beneath them.
“Are you telling me,” I said slowly, “that you haven’t been to bed yet? You’ve been up since yesterday morning, and you carved this for meby hand?”
“Aye,” he said with a weary chuckle.
