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It was always the same conversation.Sometimes she felt as if her mother had only allowed Noemi to move all the way to theevil northbecause she’d expected her to come running back home with her tail between her legs.She’d come close.Twice.
Once, when she just arrived and been mugged getting off the subway, and for one moment that very evening, when she’d been hit on the head and thrown to the ground by the two mask-wearing burglars.
Sigh.She wasn’t a coward by nature, but something about the unprovoked violence had struck a nerve.But other than those two instances where human nature had almost gotten the best of her, Noemi was fine.Even now, she was determined to stick it out.
“You’ll always be Mimi to me, sweetheart, I just can’t understand why you’d want to live in a place that doesn’t have a decent bowl of grits in a hundred-mile radius?”her mama replied easily.
“They do, Mama.It’s just called polenta here,” she smirked, knowing her mother was going to lose her cool any second now despite her marrying a man of Italian descent after Noemi’s own father had passed.
“Polenta?I cannot believe my only child who wore the Little Miss Blue Ridge second runner up banner in the Annual Harvest Festival when she was just eleven-years old would say a thing like that to me.Polenta indeed!Oh, hush, here comes Carl,”her mother tsked into the phone.
“Please tell Carl I said hi.Now, I gotta go, Mama.”
“Alright, sugar.But you remember, the door is always open.Still, Danu protect you.Oh, and I saw Peter the other day.He is still single, you know.”
“No doubt, Mama.Alright, bye now.”
“Bye, Mimi.”
Their goodbyes were followed by the usual air kisses and promises to call soon.Noemi hung up, gratefully.
Truth was, Noemi was lucky to have someone as understanding and strong-willed as her mother.The woman had raised her alone after Noemi’s father had suffered a fatal heart attack at only forty-four years old.
She’d been too young to really remember him, but when she did, it was always with warmth and kindness.Never a bad thought for either of her parents.She’d had a blessed childhood.Even her stepfather, Carl, had turned out to be a loving, and truly wonderful parent to Noemi.
Moving to New York City, finding this close-knit neighborhood, and working at D’Angelo’s Bakery with the prospect of buying the establishment from the owner, were all just checkboxes off the things she wanted to accomplish in her life.Sure, this unexpected attack was a little bump in the road, but would she let it change the course of her life?No way.
She was in it for the long haul, as they said.Her mother’s reference to her ex only made her dig in her heels harder.Thirty-years old, unmarried, and with no prospects, going back home, would make her the highlight of conversation for local gossips for weeks to come.Her small town was grossly un-modern when it came to women choosing career over family.
It wasn’t that Noemi was against family.On the contrary.But she needed to find a man before she could think about children.Her last boyfriend, Peter, as her mother so kindly reminded her, had left a major crack in her ego after she’d caught him cheating with her supposed best friend.
Throwing her lifesavings into her move, she was fine with the way things were going.Then those two thugs had robbed the bakery, knocked her to the ground, and that police officer had called her mama.That led to over three dozen texts, and five,count ‘em, one, two, three, four, five,well-meaning phone calls in the last two-hours.
She should’ve turned the damn thing off, but she was waiting on one call in particular.From him.The man she could not stop thinking about since that morning.Images of the bronze-skinned detective flashed through her brain, and Noemi felt her entire body heat up in response.He was absolutely, positively, the most drop-dead gorgeous man she had ever seen.
He was hotter than a midsummer’s eve on her grandmama’s uncovered porch.Crazy old lady swore it was the only way to make sweet tea proper.In big old mason jars with molasses, sugar, and tea.Used to sit them right in the sun and wait hours for it to be the right color before moving them to the ice box.
Sigh.She was a real country girl, her Granny.Taught Noemi how to make the best peach cobbler and bread pudding.Also showed her how cooking was a ritual in and of itself, sacred and blessed, passed down from generation to generation.
She missed her Granny something awful.Missed a lot about her old life and her home in the Carolinas, but New York,well, this was home now.It was different,not better or worse, just different.Truth was, she loved living there.And now that she’d met Rami Llewellyn, she wondered if perhaps destiny had a hand in her move up north.
She sipped her tea, and rolled her shoulders, willing herself to relax.Thinking about her recent choices and the changes that came with them, Noemi was glad she’d started up again with her yoga and breathing techniques.She was not quite ready to join a class, but maybe soon.After everything was settled.
New York was interesting in so many ways she’d never expected.She thought the hustle and bustle of the crowds of people living and visiting were sure to make her feel like a sardine in a tin can, but that was not half of it.The energy that came with the throngs of folks was what genuinely surprised her.
So many people, all unique, just living their lives.Wasn’t that a beautiful thing?She mulled through it all and allowed the events of the day to slowly recede from the forefront of her mind.There was so much to learn, see, and do yet.So much before she truly decided if this was the right place for her to build her life.
D’Angelo’s Bakery was the perfect little place for her dream store,Southern Belle Bake Shop.Noemi had visions of customers lining up for her homemade pies, scones, biscuits, and specialty cakes.Of course, she would continue to supply traditional Italian pastries as well.
The neighborhood would revolt against her should she stop making Mr.D’Angelo’s famouscornetti.But even there she had plans to inject some of her southern style into the recipes.Flavors like peach, plum, and blackberry filledcornetti, pecan crumble shortbread, and strawberry-rhubarb Danishes kept her awake at nights.
She did not want to go back home, but there was nothing wrong with bringing a little home to the big city, was there?And maybe, she could find a little bit of happiness for herself with that tall drink of sweet tea, Detective Sergeant Rami Llewellyn himself.
Yum.She’d thought it odd when his grandmother started showing up every day for a loaf of bread right when she had a lull in customers.The older woman was sweet but sly.Always brought the conversation back to her handsome, single grandson.
His Nana was a fox in disguise, she thought with a grin.Though to be honest, she certainly had bragging rights on her grandson.He was a damn fine specimen of man.Noemi’s phone rang and she jumped, caught in her daydreams once again.
“Hello?”she asked breathlessly.
