Page 63 of Coming Home

“We have a good egg man on the grill. His over-easy eggs and bacon are terrific. He also makes excellent hash browns and biscuits.”

“I’m sold,” he told her, practicing his smile. “I’ll have a little coffee to go with it.”

She smiled warmly. “Be right back.”

Anthony watched her put in his order as he quickly observed the others seated in the diner. She returned, bringing a pot of coffee, pouring him a cup.

“New in town? Or passing through?”

He knew small town residents were a nosy bunch, and this woman typified them. She would be the kind to have her finger on the pulse of the community and spread gossip faster than a brushfire.

“Thinking about moving to the area,” he said genially. “My fiancée and I enjoy the ocean. She’s from a small town and would like to move to one near the water. We both work from home, and so we’re really free to settle wherever we wish. We’ll be getting married soon. I’m here scouting out things, including finding someone to bake our wedding cake.”

He dropped the last nugget, knowing Nancy would take the bait and give him information not necessarily found on the Buttercup Bakery website.

The woman said, “I have just the place for you. Buttercup Bakery. The owner, Ainsley Martin, attended a fancy pastry school in Paris. She’s a local girl who used to sell cookies before school sporting events when she was barely a teenager. I can say, bar none, Ainsley makes the best desserts I’ve ever tasted—and that includes the pie at my diner. You should check out her website. Better yet, I’m sure Ainsley would be happy to speak to you about your cake. Why, she’s a newlywed herself, you know. Married a boy who was also raised in the Cove. Jackson practiced law down in L.A. a good number of years, but he’s back now. We’re so happy he’s returned.”

She left, and he began listening to the conversations from the table to his right and the booth behind him, trying to glean any additional information. He had gone to the town library yesterday and accessed their digital files, learning everything he could about Jackson Martin. His attorney had been a hometown hero in several sports and had won a prestigious scholarship to USC. His new wife had also grown up in Maple Cove. Her parents were both deceased, but she had a cousin who operated an antiques store, also located on the town’s square. The tracker he had placed let him know that Jackson had visited a house twice, which Anthony had discovered had belonged to his grandmother, a renowned sculptor. Jackson’s sister, also an artist, now lived in the house, along with her sheriff husband. Anthony had stood in the woods next to this house for hours yesterday, watching people come and go, including Jackson and Ainsley, who carried in suitcases.

Anthony wondered how long they would be staying there and hoped to find out soon. He had discovered through perusing the local town newspaper that Jackson had only recently bought the practice of a Clancy Nelson, who had practiced law in the town for over six decades. Anthony didn’t know if this had been a sudden decision or a planned one. If planned, it upset him that Jackson had never mentioned it when Anthony was asking about using the law office’s services in the future.

His server brought his breakfast to him. Nancy was right. The eggs were some of the best he had eaten, and the bacon was cooked to crisp perfection. The biscuit was light and fluffy, and he finished it quickly, asking for an additional one when she filled his coffee mug again.

As he continued to eat, he listened to the talk around him. He didn’t learn anything useful, but he knew that sometimes stray bits of information could be put to good use, so he filed away everything he heard.

Nancy brought him the bill, and she was the one who rang him up near the door, proudly telling him she was the owner of the diner and hoped he would return soon, bringing his fiancée.

Anthony thanked her and strolled toward Buttercup Bakery. It was now half-past nine, and the morning rush at the bakery definitely had ended. He supposed business picked up when tourist season began in the summer. Right now, he knew from the website that the bakery was closed on Mondays and Tuesdays but would add Tuesdays back to its hours come June. Today was a Wednesday. He would ask for a wedding cake to be baked not for this weekend but the next. He didn’t want to give Ainsley a reason to turn him down.

He entered the bakery, deciding on his new alias as he approached the counter. He recognized both women working it from their pictures on the website. There would also be an older gentleman in the back who was a fulltime baker, and Anthony assumed Ainsley was busy back there, as well.

The woman in front of him was being waited on by the older clerk, Gloria. Sheila, the younger of the two workers motioned toward him.

“What can I get you?” she asked with a friendly smile.

“I was hoping to make an appointment to see your owner.” He smiled the practiced smile, knowing he disarmed Sheila with it. “You see, I’m getting married soon and need to see about a wedding cake. Nancy at the diner sent me over here.”

“You’ve come to the right place,” Sheila assured him. “Let me see if Ainsley can visit with you now.”

Sheila moved to an open door and said, “Ainsley? Do you have time for a wedding cake consultation?”

Anthony couldn’t hear the response, but Sheila turned back to him and nodded. “She said five minutes. Can I get you a cup of coffee while you’re waiting? On the house, of course.”

“That would be nice,” he said. “And let me have a bear claw to go with it, if you don’t mind. I’ll pay for it.”

He set a five-dollar bill on the counter. Sheila waved it away. “Happy to treat you. Have a seat, and I’ll bring both to you.”

There were only four small café tables in the bakery, and he took the one in the far corner. He studied the items in the display cases, his mouth watering, thinking Ainsley Martin was a very talented woman. He thought so even more after he bit into the bear claw, which Sheila had presented to him.

Moments later, the object of his interest stepped through the opening and joined him.

Taking a seat, she offered her hand and said, “Hello, I’m Ainsley Martin, the owner of Buttercup Bakery. I hear you’re in the market for a wedding cake. Congratulations.”

He smiled, finding himself not having to act. Genuine warmth shone on her face, and he responded to it.

“I’m Charles Chapman, but I usually go by Charlie. I’m getting married in ten days.” He did his best to look sheepish. “I’m having to handle all the details myself because my fiancée teaches English as a second language in Tokyo. She’ll be ending her term and returning to the US for good. We want to get married pretty much as soon as she arrives, which is why I’m taking care of the wedding.”

“I’m a newlywed myself,” Ainsley confided. “What kind of wedding are you having, and how many people are invited?”

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