Page 2 of Holiday at Home
Nora puts a reassuring hand on my arm. “Then we’ll deal with those things as they come.”
Nerves flutter in my belly. I shake out my hands, glancing around the store. Despite the Christmas décor, it doesn’t feel like Christmas in my heart.
But, then again, nothing’s felt the way it should since our parents passed.
I put my hands on my hips and blow out a puff of air. “Okay. It’s just about six. I’m like five minutes away from unlocking the doors.”
“You are so ready, Vi,” Nora says proudly. “And we’ll be with you the whole time.”
Nash grins, nodding as emphatically as a tired kindergartner can. Elizabeth pokes her head out of the kitchen with a fist in the air. I smooth my apron. Run a hand through my hair. Take a deep breath, close my eyes and send a quick prayer to Mom and Dad, then unlock the door and wait for the magic.
And…
…nothing happens.
My stomach sinks.
I turn to Nora in fear, and she holds up her hands to ward off my panic.
But then the door creaks open, the bells jingling merrily, and in walks my first customer, Roger Clementine. He’s an oldie, a staple of Sterling’s and of Stillwater Bay. His broad smile, grizzled beard, and booming voice immediately take my nerves down a notch.
“Violet, my dear!” Roger throws his arms wide, then glances around the shop. “And Nora, too? I haven’t seen you for years! And who’s this strong young man at your side?”
Nash’s little eyes go wide as he stares at the man in wonder. “Mom,” he whispers, tugging on her hand, gaze locked on Roger. “Santa knows your name…”
Roger throws his head back in laughter, belly shaking merrily. “Not the first time I’ve heard that and won’t be the last,I’m sure.” He crouches and extends his hand to my nephew. “Name’s Roger Clementine.”
“I’m Nash,” comes the reply as my nephew proudly shakes hands with the stranger.
“Pleased to meet ya, Nash.” Roger straightens and turns his jolly energy my way. “I sure was missing those cinnamon rolls of yours while you were closed down.”
“Good thing I made an extra big batch then, isn’t it?” I pull out the tray and pick the best of the bunch, sliding it into a bag emblazoned with the Sterling’s logo like I’ve done for this man for years. The familiarity of it all soothes my nerves. Weirdly, I get a sense of Mom and Dad smiling at each other, like maybe, somehow, they arranged Roger’s arrival.
“Thank you for being my first customer.”
While I’m mostly speaking to the man across from me, I send a chunk of that gratitude to my parents.
Just in case.
“We got you, Violet,” he responds and tears spring to my eyes.
We?
The sense of my parents smiling increases and Roger drops me a wink. “I certainly won’t be your last customer. Just watch.”
The bells over the door jingle and suddenly the bakery is filled with laughter and conversation. Roger lifts his hand and leaves me to a steady stream of customers wishing me well, thanking me for reopening after my parents’ accident. Time flies, cookies disappear, and I almost completely sell out of cinnamon rolls before noon.
“How’s your coffee?” asks Matilda McIntire around a mouthful of chocolate croissant. “Sylvia Sterling’s espresso used to be the only way I could start my day.”
“She really had a gift, didn’t she?” I reply fondly. “That was one thing I knew I couldn’t live up to, so I decided to paredown the coffee menu. I do offer it, but it’s just your basic brew, unfortunately.”
I gesture weakly toward the industrial pots with their gas station vibes and Nora shoots me a knowing look.
There’s more to the coffee story than meets the eye.
“No worries.” Matilda waves her hand and chomps into her croissant. “Caffeine is caffeine, right?”
I pour her a cup and she takes a sip, wrinkling her nose in a way that says not all caffeine is created equal after all, then disappears in another wave of customers.
