Page 16 of Sweet Somethings

Four

Juliette beat her alarm by an hour on Friday morning, bringing an end to her sleepless night around four in the morning instead of her usual five a.m. wake-up time. She'd been sleeping so well in Fairhope. She'd actually thought she'd beaten her insomnia until last night, when her mixed-up brain ran around in circles between her childhood home on Primrose Lane, the sexy and somewhat brooding Roman Prescott, his stubborn grandfather, and finally the charming Doug Winters.

Too many men, she decided, as she got out of bed. They were quickly becoming the source of all her problems. She needed to put a stop to that.

Not that Roman wanted to be a problem in her life; he'd probably be happy if he never saw her again. And no doubt his grandfather felt the same way.

Doug—he was another story, a story she wanted to know more about, not just because he wanted to take her to dinner, but also because the first time she'd ever seen him flustered was after he'd spoken to Roman. There was some mystery there, and she couldn't help wondering what it was as she showered and changed into leggings, a long-sleeved tunic top, and her super-comfortable bunny slippers. While she'd slip into her boots once the bakery opened, she'd be on her feet a few hours before that, and she wanted to be comfortable.

When she'd finished dressing, she went downstairs, happy again that her landlord had not only rented her the bakery space but the studio apartment on the second floor. Her commute was perfect.

It was dark outside, and she quickly turned on the lights and started preheating the ovens. Her first job of the day was to get her bread loaves baking, and within minutes she fell into her morning routine. Happy to be doing what she loved, she lost herself in the rhythm of baking, and soon the sun had come up over town.

Once the bread was done, she turned her attention to her Wish cookies. Yesterday's batch had been pretty close to what she remembered. She'd duplicate that and stop trying to tweak the recipe. The cookies were good and as magical as she could make them.

With all ovens firing and timers set, she went into the store and refilled her display cases. Then she made coffee from Donavan's for those customers who didn't hit the coffeehouse across the street.

With that done, she wiped down the café tables by the window. She couldn't help but take a few quick glances outside to see if there were any attractive early morning joggers headed her way, but the block was empty.

Roman had probably decided to take a different route after their two encounters yesterday. Not only had she had a meltdown in her old house right in front of him, but then she'd gotten into an awkward discussion with his grandfather, all over a house that in reality she could not afford to buy.

She didn't know what she was thinking, begging Mr. Prescott to sell it to her when she didn't have any money. She needed to start thinking first before acting. Not that she'd given up on the idea of getting her house back, but she needed to go to Mr. Prescott with a much better informed and planned strategy.

As the clock struck seven thirty, she unlocked her doors and turned the Closed sign around. She'd been opening earlier and earlier since Christmas, as more and more people stopped in on their way to work to pick up a morning sweet or to put in an order for a special cake or dessert for some important occasion in their lives. Since she was still building her business, she'd take customers any time she could get them.

"Good morning," Susan said, as she entered through the front door.

"How are you today?"

"I'm ready for another busy day selling Wish cookies."

"They are popular."

"I can't tell you how many stories I heard yesterday," Susan said. "The cookies bring back a lot of special memories for more people than you would think. I have to admit I was skeptical when you first told me about the tradition, but I have been proved wrong."

She laughed. "I think people want to believe in magic, no matter what form it comes in."

"I think so, too." The doorbell dinged, and the first customers of the day walked in. "I better get to work," Susan said.

While Susan filled orders, she went back into the kitchen and adorned another tray of Wish cookies with lavender frosting and tiny red hearts. Then she took them out to the front of the store and filled the display trays of mix-and-match cookies that were open to the customers to pick and choose their favorite cookies. The rest of the desserts, they kept on their side of the glass.

The line had grown even longer, so she helped Susan out at the cash register, happy to see so many familiar faces coming back for desserts. She was starting to feel a part of the Fairhope family again, and that was an amazing feeling.

As she finished with a customer, she noticed a small boy by the cookie case. He was about eight or nine, with blond hair and blue eyes. She'd seen him in the bakery before and had thought he looked a little ragged. His skin seemed pale and unhealthy, his clothes looking like they hadn't seen a washer in a while.

The kid gave a few furtive looks around him, then grabbed a couple Wish cookies from the help-yourself tray, stuffed them into the pocket of his jacket, and then ran for the door. He ducked under the arm of a woman coming into the bakery, almost knocking her off her feet.

Frowning, she told Susan she'd be back in a minute and went out the door after him.

He was a block ahead of her and moving fast, but she needed to catch him. It wasn't so much that she couldn't afford to lose the two cookies; it was more that she wanted to know who he was, why he was stealing from her, and more importantly, why he looked like he needed someone to go after him.

He cut around the corner, running down an alley behind a row of retail shops. He flung a quick look over his shoulder and then ran faster when he saw her.

As he came out of the alley and darted around a corner, she lost him for a second, then picked him up again when he reached the next intersection. He was heading out of the downtown area and into a residential neighborhood.

Her bunny slippers flopped on her feet, impeding her progress. She really wished she had her boots on, but she'd never had a second to change into her street shoes.

The kid darted through some trees and down a side yard next to a big, two-story house. She quickly followed, but as she went toward the open backyard, a big dog came bounding toward her with a ferocious bark.

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