Page 12 of Sugar Coated Secrets

I shake my head. “No, I’m fine, Off?—”

“It’s Danny,” he interrupts with a nervous smile.

“Sorry, I’m not?—”

“There is nothing to be sorry about.” He grins. “I think we are past calling me Officer Mays.”

He’s right. We are past that. Since I started working at the bakery full time, he stops by every day at closing time to ensure I’m okay.

He checks his watch. “I know you agreed to Friday night.” He clears his throat. “I thought maybe we could get a burger or something?”

“I don’t?—”

“You still have time before Mary is due to leave,” he says with a hopeful expression.

“I’m sorry, Danny,” I say softly, letting him down gently. “I need to get home.”

He nods, looking at his shoes. “I understand.”

But he wouldn’t. No one would. Every minute I spend away from my grandmother is a minute I’ll miss when she’s gone. She’s the only person I have left. It’s why I’m still here in this shitty town, where I only have my grandmother and the bakery. Because everything else has been taken away from me.

5

FORD

Ipull into the shitty hotel in town and park in the deserted parking lot. It is the most inconspicuous hotel I could find without going to Mooresville. I refused to go to my parents. They aren’t happy that I left, and I don’t have time.

As the doors slide open, the cold air and the scents of disinfectant and cheap air freshener assault me as I enter the lobby. A far cry from the luxury I’m used to.

The girl behind the desk calls out, “Welcome to the Ramada,” as I approach the front desk. “Checking in?”

“Yes.”

“Name?”

I pull my hat low. “It’s under Derek Smith for Ford Keller.”

I had my manager make a reservation in his name to buy me time until I arrived. I didn’t plan where I would stay permanently once I got here. If it didn’t work out, I could always go back. I could always prepare for the next race.

She looks up. “Yes, I have one room with one king bed for Mr. Keller. I need to see your ID.”

I nod, hoping she doesn’t recognize me when I hand it to her. She takes a minute to look at the license, making sure it matches the name.

She hands me my license and a key card with a flirty smile. “Do you need anything else? Take-out menus?” She peers over the counter. “I see you made it in time to Sugar Coated Sweets.”

“They’re the best in all of North Carolina,” I praise.

“It is. It’s a shame, though, about that poor girl’s grandma,” she says sullenly. “Cancer. She’s still alive, but her granddaughter takes care of her, you know. Runs the bakery. Pays for her treatment. Any hope of that girl getting out of here was robbed.”

“Did she marry?” I find myself asking.

She shakes her head. “No. Not that I know of. She keeps to herself mostly.” Then says like she is lost in thought, “People wonder, though.”

“About?” I ask curiously, making me sweat when it’s anything that has to do with Dulce.

“Why she looks so sad all the time.”

“Knowing you’re going to lose someone to cancer does that.”

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