"How long has that been—"
"I have no idea."
She laughs. It's wet and tired but it's a laugh, and she leans up on her toes to press a quick kiss to my cheek.
"Thank you."
She squeezes Morgan's shoulder on her way out, mutters something about being back in an hour to 'find that damn notebook,'and disappears upstairs to make herself look less like a woman who lost a fight with a flour bag.
The bakery falls quiet and Morgan stares up at me.
"So, Superman. What's the plan?"
I roll up my sleeves and plant my fists on my hips. "First, we clean up the front like our lives depend on it. Then we get the hell out of here before your mom comes back and finds something else to stress about."
"Get out of here and gowhere?"
I shrug. "I dunno. You know everything… where do you want to go?"
Her eyes go wide. "The playground?!"
"Done."
I cross to the speaker behind the counter, plug in my phone, and crank the music to some old-school hip-hop.
Morgan's eyebrows climb to her hairline.
"This is yourcleaningmusic?"
"This iseveryone'scleaning music." I grab a broom and start sweeping, doing a little spin move with the handle that almost takes out a display stand. "Rule one. You don't clean efficiently if you're not dancing. Rule two. The broom is your partner. Treat her with respect."
Morgan does a full belly laugh. "You're soweird."
I dip the broom like I'm leading it through a waltz, then pop it up and rest it across my shoulders. "You love it."
Morgan is laughing so hard she has to sit on the floor.
"Come on, kid. Grab a cloth and start scrubbing."
"Aye aye, captain."
We tear through the front in fifteen minutes flat. Morgan wipes down tables while I sweep, mop, and restock napkins. By the time we lock up and put theBACK SOONsign on the door, the bakery looks exactly how Zoey likes it.
Now I just have to work out if I have time to finish my plansbeforeI hand back that notebook.
We head down to Chilmore Park, which sits at the bottom of Main Street. It's a stretch of green tucked into the bend of the river where the mountains start to rise, and the leaves are doing that thing they do in autumn here, all golds and burnt oranges that look amazing.
We stopped at Frost Café on the way, mainly to make sure Zoey made it okay, and now Morgan's clutching a hot chocolate bigger than her head, while I've got a coffee and a paper bag of Millicent's almond biscotti.
She climbs onto a swing and waits patiently while I push her.
"Higher, please."
"Aren't you ten? Do I really need to push you?"
"Higher!"
I push anyway, and she squeals, her braids flying behind her as she pumps her legs.