Page 103 of Unspoken Hearts
My friend just huffs out a sigh. “It’s in a jar. If you ask Andie, she’ll grab them for you, but you have to go to The Hollow, because they don’t stock it here.”
“Okay,” I say with a nod. “I’ll run and grab it now.”
“Here’s my keys.” She swiftly pops into her office before handing her car keys to me. “It might need some petrol, but there should be enough in the tank. Good old Betsie sometimes doesn’t warn me when she’s about to run empty, so keep an eye on the gage.”
I roll my eyes, taking the keys from her. “I’ve driven your car before.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, then.” Laynie smiles before shooing me out of the cafe.
Going out into the alleyway, I unlock Betsie, move the seat forward and adjust all the mirrors for my smaller frame before making my way towards Hollow Grove. The trip is very relaxing and scenic, with the mountains on one side, and countryside on the other. The air-conditioner blasts my face, keeping away sweat as I move my fingers to the beat of music coming through the radio.
I miss having my own car. Catching rides with friends is fun until you solely rely on that, or walking, which in this dry heat is not enjoyable.
Turning into the busier town of Hollow Grove, I make my way down the main street that’s buzzing with a lot of life for a Wednesday morning. Finding a spot out on the road, I lock the car and stroll into The Hollow. The store’s lights are dim, and the smell of fresh produce and baked bread hits my nose. My stomach gurgles at the scent, but I ignore it. I can’t waste too much time here since Laynie is manning the cafe right now.
Walking in, I stroll down a few aisles, knowing what most of the ingredients are and collecting them, filling the trolley before I come to the more obscure things. Molasses, leaveners and dried vanilla stalks.
Can you tell that I’m not a baker like Laynie is?
I make my way back to the front, and find a nicer looking older woman wearing a name badge.
“Hi, I’m here for my friend to get some things. She told me to ask for Andie to help.”
The woman smiles, greying dark hair bouncing around her neck as she guides me towards the bakery section at the back. “Andie is probably the best. She knows her way around here like the back of her hand,” the ladychimes happily. Angular faced, large chested and sun spots splashing her skin shows how much time she’s spent outside.
A girl who must be my age or a bit older looks at us and grins from behind the counter at the back. Ovens and trays of loaves line the back wall, and the doughy smell is so overpowering, I feel my stomach gnawing at itself.
“Margerette, what can I do for you?” She looks at the woman beside me.
“Andie, you’re being summoned.” Margerette leaves me alone with her.
Andie comes through the side door and puts her hands on her hips, a stained white apron tied around her waist. She smiles again. “What do you need help with?”
I show her the list of things and she nods. “These are for Laynie Alder, right?”
“Right.” I nod, and follow her down an aisle.
White blonde hair with the ends dipped pink, she has an edgy vibe that I like, along with silver piercings and a tattoo of a fish on the back of her ear.
“She’s one of my regulars. They come straight to the back of the store and get me. I’m like their personal shopper, but I love helping them out, especially when they’re nice. How’s the cafe going? I haven’t had the chance to come in a while, since Dad has had me working here almost every day, and my days off I spend catching up on life,” Andie drawl.
She sure can talk, but I love it.
“The cafe is good. Business has picked up a lot over summer. We are having a stall this weekend at the summer festival. Will you have time to come?”
She plucks three jars off the shelf with her tattooed fingers and places them in my trolley for me, peering back with her large brown eyes framed in black liner. “I think I will have some time on Saturday. I finish here at two.”
“I think it’ll be great.”
“The festivals always are,” she chimes, moving further down the aisle.
I follow beside her, pushing the trolley full of flour, sugar, flavours and spices. Taking a few more things off the shelves, I thank her for her help.
“Hopefully I can drop by on the weekend. It would be good to see Laynie again, and try some of her new recipes.”
“Yes, you should.”
Paying for everything at the front of the store, I load all of the products into the boxes and carry them to the car. I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket.
