Page 61 of Twilight Tides
The Leth Sholas Bakery & Tearoom was run by an Australian couple, Brian and Harry Weaver. We’d gotten along great until I started my honesty box and I noticed a considerable cooling toward me. I knew I wasn’t imagining it as Brian took my order stone-faced.
My cheeks felt hot, hoping the customers behind me hadn’t noticed his decidedly less than friendly customer service.
After I paid, he handed over the brown paper bag with the sandwiches and cakes I’d bought and suddenly asked, “So, when can we expect you to open your own bakery?”
I almost dropped the bag. “Excuse me?”
His brow pinched together. “Everyone has been raving about the pastries and cakes in your honesty box, so we’re no longersold out by noon on the days you fill that bloody thing.” His tone turned waspish, and he winced. “I mean … Harry and I just want to know when to expect the competition to ramp up.”
“Brian … no. I’m not opening a bakery. I just … I get a kick out of the honesty box. It kind of renews my faith in humanity that people leave money for the cakes and pastries. I don’t make anything from it. It covers the costs of the ingredients and then the rest I donate to the LSLS.”
Brian’s shoulders slumped. “So you’re not … you’re not competing with us? You’re not testing the waters before opening your own place?”
“I’m not,” I promised and raised an annoyed eyebrow of my own. “I wish you’d voiced your concerns. If the honesty box is impacting your business, then I want to know.”
“It’s not.” He shook his head, expression sheepish. “London, it really isn’t. If you’re only doing it on a Wednesday, it really isn’t. I’m so sorry. We thought …”
“It’s fine.” Was it, though? I felt like there was room for more than one bakery in Leth Sholas, especially during high season. But since I genuinely didn’t have any plans to open a bakery, I didn’t see any point upsetting them by questioning why they had such a problem with the idea.
“Here.” Brian suddenly ducked to reach into the cabinet between us. “Apple and cinnamon cake for you … millionaire’s shortbread for Kelly … and Murray loves our gingerbread cake.” He straightened, beaming at me as he put the cakes in the box. “On the house. A belated congratulations on the nuptials.” Brian presented the cake box with a flourish.
I took it with gratitude but was glad to leave the bakery, feeling weird about the fact that Harry and Brian had probably been bitching about me to each other for weeks. They’d probably been even more concerned when I’d married Murray knowing they wouldn’t be rid of me anytime soon.
As always, I felt the sting of rejection a little deeper than most. I shrugged it off because it shouldn’t matter what Brian and Harry thought of me. The only opinions that mattered were the people I cared about. And who cared about me.
Hurrying down Main Street, I smiled to the locals I passed. Seeing Laird and his crew in the harbor unloading one of Murray’s boats, I waved. A wide smile stretched my cheeks when Laird and five of his men took the time to wave back.
Taran was busy with a customer when I walked into the charity shop. As I approached, I realized the customer was Dr. Stornoway, one of the island’s physicians.
“London, Molly was just telling me she’s entering the Glenvulin Fair for the horticultural event.” Taran grinned mischievously at me. “We both agree you should enter.”
“Hi, Dr. Stornoway.” I placed the coffee, lunch, and cake box on the counter. “I missed the fair last time.”
“You can call me Molly when I’m not in the surgery,” the older woman offered. “And the fair is wonderful. I have high hopes for my hydrangeas this year.”
The Glenvulin Fair was hosted on the island for a week at the end of August. Last year it was overshadowed by the Highland Games, which Glenvulin hosted every two years. The year the Highland Games were not held, the fair becametheevent. Not everyone was into it, but if you were a craftsperson or gardener or any kind of creative, you could bring your produce and products to compete against others in specific categories to win prizes. The agricultural part, the livestock show, was the main event. But the horticultural element also seemed to get the islanders in a bit of a tizzy.
“It’s not for months.”
“Aye.” Taran reached for the coffee I’d brought her. “But the deadline to participate is next week.”
“You should enter into the bakers’ division.” Molly nodded enthusiastically. “Everyone’s been talking as much about your delicious cakes and pastries as they are about the fine husband you wed. Congratulations, by the way.”
As always, guilt flickered through me as I took her thanks. I hated lying to people. Therefore, I diverted back to the original topic. “Do Brian and Harry participate in the fair, by any chance?”
“They do.”
“Then I’ll sit this one out. I kind of had an inkling they didn’t like the honesty box, but I just found out they were worried I was intending to open a competing bakery.” I grimaced. “Better not poke the bear.”
“Oh, nonsense.” Molly scowled. “No one gets to intimidate you into not doing something you want to do.”
“I’d do it if I really wanted to.” Even as I said it, I wasn’t sure that was true. And that sucked because London before Nick would have entered the fair just to prove to Brian and Harry that their irritation with me wastheirproblem, not mine.
My words to Murray last night came back to me.
What I said to him was the most honest I’d been with myself in a while.
Iwaslost.
