Page 9 of This Moment

I turned to see a woman I’d never seen before. She was about my height, five-two, withlight brown hair and the bluest of blue eyes. Her smile was warm, but there was something in her eyes that made me stand up straight and lower the veil down.

With a shrug, I replied, “Just doing my job.”

Her brow rose. “Sounded like custom cake decorating wasn’t part of your job description.”

I smiled. “I’ve done it before, not professionally, but I’m sure I can handle it.”

The woman pushed off the doorjamb and walked into the kitchen. She held out her hand for me.

“I’m Macy Carter Bennet. Opal is my aunt.”

Relaxing slightly, I let out the breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding in. I was on edge, wondering if each person I ran into was the one sent to find me. Once I left Boston, I drove south, sold my car to someone for cash in Washington, D.C., and then drove to North Carolina, where I met with someone who could help me start a new life and couldn’t be traced to me, and then Iheaded back up north. Finding Moose Village was a happy mistake.

I reached my hand out to her and shook it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Macy.”

“You’re new in town?”

“Yes, I am. I moved here about a month ago.”

She smiled softly. “Really? Where from?”

“Chicago, but I was only there a few months.” It was part of my cover. I hoped people wouldn’t ask me too much about a city I had never set foot in. Plus, I was told to try and stay as close to the truth as possible. The West Coast was where I was born and raised.

“Where were you before that?”

I looked at her and had a sinking feeling about thiswoman. She wasn’t going to take simple answers; that was evident.

“The West Coast.”

Her perfectly tweezed brow rose for a second time. “California, Oregon?”

I lifted my chin. “Around there.”

Both brows shot up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

With a carefree shrug, I returned to the cake pans and started preparing them again.

“Do you have experience working in a bakery?”

“I do.”

“That’s wonderful. I knew Aunt Opal was hoping to hire someone quickly. It’s hard to find qualified people in such a small town.”

I glanced up at her. “She’s managed to find some amazing bakers.”

Macy bit down on her lower lip and nodded. “She has.”

“So, is she your mother or father’s sister?” I asked.

“My mother’s side. Our grandmother used to own the bakery, but it was more of a café. When Opal returned from France, she turned it into a bakery.”

“That’s nice that it could stay in the family.”

Macy nodded and walked around the kitchen. She reached for a macaron and popped it into her mouth. “I love the lemon ones.”

I let out a soft chuckle. “They are good.”

“Can you make macarons?”

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