I’d always liked him. His gentle demeanor was the perfect foil for Gabriel, who could be on the prickly side.
Avery shook her head. “I wasn’t in touch like I should have been. I sent her little thank-you notes telling her what I was upto, but I hadn’t spoken to her on the phone or in person for ages.”
Sympathy was written all over Bastien’s face. “Evelyn seemed to know you were just a busy young person making your way.”
“Thank you,” Avery said. “I guess I’m still getting my head around the fact that she’s gone. It’s more real now that I’m here.”
Bastien nodded. “We’re all still getting our heads around it too. Evelyn was an important part of our community. She’d be glad you’re here.”
Avery nodded, and I wondered if she was thinking about the fact that she planned to sell the house.
Bastien looked my way. “Can you throw a couple extra chocolate croissants into the basket this morning? We have some repeat customers and they can’t stop talking about them from their last visit.”
“You got it.” I edged away from him, eager to give Avery emotional space from the conversation about Evelyn. She was going to have a lot of them over the next few days. “Have a great day!”
“You too.” Bastien turned on the hose and aimed it away from us. “And come by anytime, Avery. I’ll keep the croissants warm and introduce you to Gabriel.”
“Thank you! I may take you up on that.” Avery looked up at me as we continued toward Main Street. “What basket?”
“Bastien and Gabriel are regulars at the bakery. I send over a basket of pastries every morning for their guests.”
We turned the corner at Good Dog & Co, the pet shop, and started toward the bakery.
“Are there a lot of those?” Avery asked. “Customers who have standing orders?”
“Not really. There are almost always guests at the inn, so it makes sense, but most of our orders come in as needed. We dosupply pastry trays for town events like Council meetings and Chamber of Commerce meet and greets though.”
A bump sounded against the glass of Petals on Main and I turned to see Clara Sayer placing a fresh bouquet of pink roses in the window, her silvery blonde hair already escaping its pins even though it was barely six a.m.
She returned my wave, then disappeared behind the flowers in the window.
“That’s Clara,” I said. “She was one of Evelyn’s best friends.”
An adorable little line appeared on the bridge of Avery’s nose as her expression turned pensive. “I feel like I might remember her.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” I said. “I think she’s been in Blackwell Hollow as long as Evelyn.”
We came to the bakery and I removed my keys from the pocket of my jeans. “This is us.”
Avery stepped back to look up at the store’s facade and I was glad Evelyn had ordered it repainted the year before.The Golden Crumbwas spelled out in gold letters on the window, the trim had been painted a fresh spring green, and Blackwell Hollow’s signature deep green awning sheltered the storefront.
“Did Evelyn always own this?” Avery asked as I inserted a key into the door. “I don’t remember it.”
“Her records go back about ten years. I’m not sure who owned it before that.” I walked into the dark interior of the store and crossed to the glass counter along one wall. “We have a part-time employee, Malcolm. He’s off today.”
I flipped the switch on the wall and the shop came to life under the lights. I felt the same rush of pleasure I always felt when I came to work. Noah was happiest with his hands in the dirt, and who knew where Dane was happiest (or if he was happy at all), but this was my happy place.
Even when the shop was closed the smell of flour and chocolate and rising bread lingered in the air and the glass counter gleamed, empty and waiting for today’s fresh-baked cookies and pastries. On the other side of the room, three bistro tables were ready for the customers who could come in to catch up over coffee and croissants, and the soft pink walls, recently repainted at Evelyn’s behest, cast the generously sized shop in a rosy glow.
Avery turned in a slow circle, taking it all in while I set down my bag.
“I don’t remember this at all.” Her voice was tinged with sadness.
“Maybe Evelyn didn’t own it back then?” I suggested.
“Maybe,” Avery said. “I do remember baking with her, but in my memories we’re always at the house, although the kitchen looks different in my mind’s eye.”
“She had the kitchen renovated last year.”