Page 1 of Every Little Thing


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Chapter 1

Harper

Spring in Bayview was beautiful. I was going to miss it once I left this town.

I was a baker. I was probably supposed to love winter—staying inside and baking Christmas cakes and Valentine’s treats and all the sweets to get everyone through the colder months. But frankly, I hated it. The moment I saw those first snowflakes, it was me against the world, and it stayed that way until March rolled around and the blooms poked up, the trees started to get some color again.

And today was my favorite day of the year—the first day above fifty degrees. I had the bakery doors propped open, opened all the windows, and I let the sweet scent of springtime mix with the rich aroma of buttered pastry and bread that filled the bakery as I slotted French breads into their place by the door, filling up the basket as Anders came into the building.

“Oh—almost just walked right into you,” he laughed. “Good morning, Harper.”

“Hey, Anders. How are you and the wife?”

He smiled wider. “Well, you know how it is. Weather’s warming up, so I’m trying to convince her she’s too old to be out planting hollyhocks, and I’ll let you guess just how much luck I’ve had convincing her.”

“She’s a talented gardener. Can’t really keep her away.”

“She’s a silly little duckling and the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, that’s what she is,” he chuckled. “Well, I can’t complain. I’d just been talking about it to Emberlynn yesterday, and she volunteered to help Nancy tend to the garden when she needed it. Said she’d get Aria to help and everything.”

I softened into a smile. “Emberlynn’s a big softie.”

“So she is. Her girlfriend, too, just less likely to admit it. I wonder when they’re going to get married, those two.”

I laughed, turning back to finish slotting the breads into the basket there. “They’ve always been comfy taking their time. I feel like they’re the type to date for eight, nine years before they get married. I bet Gwen and Kay are probably the ones getting married first, even if Will’s going to be jealous. Out of carrot for right now, but there’s chocolate. Always chocolate.”

“Spring’s in the air. Nancy’s not the only one who wants carrot cake now.” He walked alongside me as I headed back in the direction of the register, him heading for the display of mini-cupcakes, his usual—one for his wife every day.

Talk about sickeningly sweet. That was probably something Emberlynn and Aria would do. Probably something I could see Priscilla doing for Annabel sixty years down the line.

Anders said the exact thing I needed him to not follow up with. “Everyone’s been coupling up so fast this past year, you know. You’ll have to find someone too before long.”

“Ugh. I don’t need that. I’m keeping busy running this place. Besides, I…” I pursed my lips. I didn’t need to get into the details with Anders. Poor old man just wanted to get his wife a cupcake. “Relationships are annoying.”

He hummed lightly to himself. “I think Emberlynn used to say things like that.”

I parted ways, heading around to the other side of the register as Krystal corralled her three adorable little daughters up to check out, making small talk with her—the weather, the festival coming up soon—as I bagged up her things and swiped her card. Sam came up after her, grinning at me as he leaned over the counter.

“Hey there,” he said. I glanced down at his empty hands, and back up at him.

“I’m not on the menu,” I said. He laughed—most of what he ever did. He was a big guy, muscular and always grinning and laughing at everything, like it was impossible to take anything seriously.

“Nah. Nothing like that. Just wanted to ask you some… insider info.”

“How titillating,” I deadpanned.

He whispered—a Sam whisper, the kind that was loud enough everyone in the store could still hear. “What kind of cake does Jenna like?”

I relaxed. “Oh yeah… her birthday’s up soon, isn’t it? I should bring her something. And not one of those creepy clown dolls she likes.”

“Hey, don’t knock the clowns. They grow on you.”

“I’d rather die. She likes a 7-Up cake.”

“Score! I’m buying her one. Do you sell them?”

“You’re in luck. I wouldn’t be trying to sell you on one if I didn’t. On the cake display rack with all the others.”

He grinned, leaning in closer and whispering—still just as loud. “You want to know a secret?”

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