Chapter 1
The street was dark and silent, save for the thudding of the pastries I was setting out. Dawn seemed as though it didn't quite want to arrive, coloring clouds but taking it's time before it would light up this lonely stretch of road. I felt someone walk up behind me, and I grinned.
"Hey, Isabella," I said, passing her a stack of cookbooks to set up. "How's Mom?" I asked, hushed. There was no one else around, but I still felt the need to whisper.
"She's much better. The doctors say she should be able to come home soon." I closed my eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. My mother had been battling lung cancer for years- a side effect of serving our town for decades and never taking a break. It had been so long since I saw her outside of a hospital, I could hardly believe she was coming home soon.
"We'll have to plan a party for her," I said decidedly. Mom didn't actually enjoy parties all that much, but I didn't quite care. I didn't want to have to see her for the first time alone.
"Oh my god, yes! We can have it in the plaza, and have all her old coworkers come!" I saw a familiar light brighten in Isabella's eyes. She loved planning parties almost as much as I loved putting her plans into the real world.
Sometimes I wonder why Isabella decided to join me when she graduated high school. She could have gone off to college- hell, she wanted to. But something changed her mind, and I have no idea what. I'm not complaining though- Running Sweetie Pies with my sister is more than I ever could have asked for. And after our renovation is done, we'll be ready to take the world by storm.
Soon, almost before I knew it, the sun was rising high over the horizon. The other stands filled with workers, and the Springfield Annual Fall Festival started.
We were flooded with customers when he joined the line- I don't even know why I noticed him. He was dressed the same as every other guy here- black t-shirt, garish flannel, skinny jeans- But something about him made me look up. Maybe it was his shoes, beaten up and worn. Or maybe it was the tattoo on his left ankle, a quote I couldn't quite read. But, and this is the most likely answer- maybe it was just fate.
Either way, I looked up and through the crowd at this guy, and smiled at him.
"What can I get you?" I asked politely, ignoring the way the rest of the crowd was glaring at me.
"I'll take a raspberry rhubarb pie, please." He handed me a wad of bills. I counted them, then handed him his change and a pie.
"Raspberry Rhubarbs are my favorite," I laughed. "you enjoy that, now."
"I will." He smiled back at me. As he turned and walked away, Isabella looked at me.
"Who was that?" She asked.
"I'm not sure." I could feel her eyes on me- In Springfield, it's not normal to have any strangers. I continued to take orders, ignoring the question she didn't have to ask. I had ignored the rest of the line for this random guy, who I didn't even know? I knew it was out of character, but I just kept going. There's no time to worry about character during the Fall Festival.
As the day was wrapping up and Isabella began to pack, the pretty stranger came back. I felt something tug at the bottom of my stomach and twitched my fingers nervously. All the lovesickness from earlier that day was gone, and I now wanted to know why this random guy was here.
"Hello again. Did you enjoy the festival?"
"Is it over already?"
"Yeah," I laughed, "Sometimes I can't believe it either. We'll be back bright and early tomorrow, though. I heard rumors of a Maypole- you're gonna want to be there."
He smiles at me, and my breath catches. "Sounds exciting. Can I get a cocoa?" I grin and nod, before turning around and putting his drink together. Almost as an afterthought, I write Elaine Wilson and my phone number on the sleeve.
"It's on the house," I say, and he smiles at me again.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. You're our last customer, and you've supported Springfield businesses enough," I nod at his bag. He thanks me and walks off. I turn our "open" sign around to say "closed", and extinguish the candle burning by our register.
"Are you sure you don't know him?" Isabella asks me again. I roll my eyes at her.
"He's probably just new here. I heard that Ms. Miller's old house was bought just a few weeks ago- he's probably living there."
"That old house for just one person? I don't think so."
"Well, I do. Come on, I want to get home before it gets too dark." We finally fit everything into the trunk of my car and start the drive home.
We don't notice the car following us.
We burst into our dark house, carrying empty baskets and jars of honey. Isabella immediately goes around flipping on all the lights, and I drop my stuff on the kitchen counter. My stomach lets out a hungry moan, and I call out,
"What do you want for dinner?" Neither of us has eaten all day- cons of being a mildly successful business.
I wouldn't exactly call Sweetie Pies successful, but it keeps us alive, and it's enough to pay Mom's way through treatment.
Mom. She's coming back soon. What am I going to say to her? How will I explain why I haven't been to see her?
"I've been craving pizza all day," Isabella responds, jerking me out of my muse. I call our local business and stare out the window as the sun makes its final bow. I do notice the car this time, but I assume it's just our neighbors. Why they aren't parked in their driveway, I can't figure out, but it's been a long day, and I'm exhausted.
I wish I had worked harder to figure it out, or at least written down the license plate. It could have saved me from this whole mess.
