EXCERPT
Copyright 2014 © Nancy Shew Bolton
Ann
hoped the bakery stayed empty of customers. She needed every bit of
concentration to decorate the cake the way she envisioned it. Her eyes
scrutinized the last patch of undecorated surface. Almost done. Shifting
on the chair, elbows planted on the low icing table, she pressed her
lips together and leaned closer. She calculated the perfect angle to
hold the frosting bag.
A
stray hair drifted into her line of vision and she blew out a quick
upward breath to deflect it. How on earth could any strand escape her
coiled braid? She should have worn the hairnet. But hairnets were
old-womanish. Still, she preferred them to the flimsy paper hats she and
Susan wore the first year they opened the bakery. They never fit well,
and exasperated her by sailing off her head when she rushed past the
ceiling fans.
The
bell on the bakery’s front door tinkled. Ann sighed and wished Susan
would return from deliveries. She glanced through the archway and out
the picture window. Maybe she’d appear. No such luck. Oh, well.
“Be
right there,” she called. Ann set down the icing bag, rose from the
chair and angled her hips to slip past the table. As she stepped
sideways, two bees zoomed in and flew toward her. She startled, brushed
both hands to scare them away and lost her balance.
In
helpless shock, her stomach fell as her forearms, palms and chin landed
on the cake and sunk in while a groan escaped her. Ann lifted her head
and stared in total horror. Loud moans erupted. “No…no, no.”
As
though a protest would change anything. Tears gathered. She drew away
from the cake, and straightened up. One little wobble, and her handiwork
was destroyed.
“Are you okay?”
Ann
stared at a tall, sturdy man in jeans and a tee shirt. He stood in the
archway between the front and back rooms and surveyed the scene. “I’d
have stayed out there, but I heard you cry out and thought I’d better
check on you.”
Ann’s
lip trembled. She pushed against the tide of emotion. No tears in front
of customers. The two bees danced on the frosting, poking around on her
ruined cake. “It’s all their fault. I tried to do everything right, and
see what happened?”
She
pointed a frosted finger at them while her tears overflowed. Through
the blur, she glanced from the excited insects over to the man. She
blinked to clear her vision. His eyes were sympathetic, and his mouth
wore a suppressed grin. He stood in a firm stance, yet appeared poised
to offer assistance. Ann searched for a clean part of her arm and
brought it up to first brush the tears, then the frosting beard off her
chin. She must look like some sort of clown.
The merriment left his face. “I’m sorry. I think maybe they flew in when I opened the door. Can I help?”
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