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Her thick dark brows knit together. “I’m afraid I’m not following. Like trying to meet a guy? Because honey, you’re young and gorgeous and should have no issues with that.”
I rocked back and forth on my heels, a faint heat crawling across my cheeks. She was always so complimentary, even if that wasn’t what I was getting at. I wasn’t digging for compliments.
Thinking around her comment, another thought popped in. “Say you were trying to get some information out of a person, but you couldn’t ask them directly and the internet only provided the basics.”
“Hmmm…I think I getcha. Likehow a cop gets the goods about a suspect?” Her voice pitched in excitement, and she waddled her way closer.
“Sort of.” This wasn’t going well, and I was going to be treading water very soon, but I needed ideas. “Yeah, sure. Like that.”
“Well, they lead the suspect into a room, and they grill them. Trick them into giving up the answers they wanna hear.” The very thought seemed to light her on fire with the sudden zest in her speech.
“But before that. How do they find out that’s the person they’re after?” Quickly, I glanced around the dining room to make sure all the customers were well taken care of and weren’t approaching the counter where they could potentially here this wild conversation.
She rubbed her chin and leaned against the stainless-steel counter, a heavy sigh pulling on her shoulders. “Well now, I suppose they’d interview friends or colleagues and gather the information first.”
Friends? Why hadn’t I thought of that? I could make nice with her friends. There was another semi-regular who came in, and I could lay on the sweetness and weasel my information from her, get what I needed, and move in. She just needed to show up again, but the pub owner didn’t make regular appearances at Sylvia’s Bakery.
“Honey, you in some kind of trouble?” Utter seriousness washed over Vee’s face and snapped me back to the present.
“Never. I promise I’m on my best behaviour. I was just curious.”
I stared at the stack of orders, feeling a sense of shame wash over me although I hadn’t done anything wrong. Sylvia was like another mother to me, and I hated thinking my mere questions had given her a reason to think I’d taken a wrong turn again.
“I had someone reach out to me about something someone in my family did, and I wasn’t sure what the meaning behind it was.”
She nodded, slowly and methodically, assessing me in her motherly way. “Well, they are probably putting together a case or something.” She studied me hard, her dark eyes narrowing into thin slits. “Your family you say?”
Yeah, the family I’d never mentioned to Sylvia. They didn’t live nearby, and I most definitely did not associate with them in person, and aside from Everest, they weren’t really a part of my life.
I hung my head. “Yeah, them. There’s something going on, and I’m just trying to figure out how to break the news to someone.”
She walked right up to me, and her strong hands cupped my shoulders. “I know you’re hiding from them, and whatever ghosts you keep trying to avoid.” Her dark eyes burrowed into mine. “You’re safe here. I promise.”
I sighed. Of course, that’s what she thought, and I never gave her reason to think otherwise. The first time she met me, I had the appearance of a homeless disaster, which was pretty much how it was – she’d caught me rummaging through her dumpster, and after that, she took care of me.
“I’m not in any danger. I promise.” I crossed my heart for extra proof. “Just a few things have come to light, and I’m not sure how to make it work. Or what to do about it all.”
Eyes still narrowed, she squeezed me. “Making the right decision is never easy, but I believe in you, honey, and I know you’ll make good choices.”
“You’re right.”
It wasn’t quite the advice I was looking for, but still, it held me.Making good choiceshad always been something she’d said to me.
I grabbed the stack of orders and the first of many boxes. “I should get these filled.”
She meandered off, but not before giving me a solid once over.
There was something though in her earlier words – going through a friend made perfect sense. I could make friends with someone my apparent biological sister is close to and weasel my way in. That’s better than being direct and abrupt, right? But who?
The doorbell chimed again, and my gaze shot to the all-glass door with Sylvia’s Bakery etched upon it. Striding through the doorway was Mr. Flirty; he wasn’t a regular-regular, at least not the I-can-judge-the-time-by-his-appearance kind of regular. Those customers were our bread and butter. But the non-regulars, they were nice too. Someone different to chat with. Someone new to look at and imagine in all sorts of fun scenarios. Someone, who in another lifetime, would be interested in someone like me…
There was a certain strut in his steps as he crossed the worn and weathered hardwood floor in my direction, eyeballing the variety of fresh pastries and baked goods while he removed his ball cap and ran his fingers through his thick hair.
“Morning,” he said, with a slight drawl, and ended the word with a wink.
If I had to guess, I’d have pegged him in his late thirties as he had the telltale start of wrinkles around the eyes that likely came from all the smiling I often saw him doing, and he sported flecks of greys at his temples which could’ve been from the overhead lighting up his rusty blond strands. But it was his voice that truly held his power; smooth like whiskey and just as tantalizing.
“What would today’s recommendation be?”
