“It all looks soooo good,” she says, her eyes only getting wider.
I giggle. “I’ll get your coffee while we wait,” I tell the man.
I spin around and pour the coffee while the two of them talk about what the girl should choose. I can’t help but to take him in. He’s tall and stocky, not too thin, not too thick. It’s easy to see that he works out, but it also looks like he enjoys life and isn’t one of those stuck up “I only eat healthy and exercise” type of people. I wonder how old he is. He doesn’t seem very old, but he doesn’t seem like he’s in his early twenties either. He has small wrinkles around his eyes, but nowhere else on his face, almost like he’s just lived a hard, stressful life. The lines beside his dark eyes and the scruffy beard only give him a hardened edge that draws me in.
I hand his coffee over to him and grab a box to put his donut in. “Have we decided?” I ask the little girl.
She puts her finger on her chin. “Ummmm, I think I want that pink donut.”
“This one?” I ask, pointing at the one in the case.
She shakes her head, causing her curls to bounce. “No, the one with the sprinkles.”
“Got it.” I pick it up and put it into the small box. I take the box over to the register and put it down. “Will there be anything else?”
“That’s it,” the man says.
I ring them up. “That’ll be five sixty-four.”
The little girl catches something out of the corner of her eye, and she gasps as I’m swiping his card.
“Daddy!” she says, yanking on his shirt. “I want that cookie!”
“Sorry, honey. I already paid,” he tells her, but she looks so sad I can’t stop myself from cheering her up.
“How about, if it’s okay with your dad, I give you that cookie for later? Like…maybe a treat for after supper?”
She smiles wide and looks up to him.
The man can’t say no to that face, so he rolls his eyes. “Alright.”
She jumps up and down, clapping her hands and giggling.
I reach into the case and take out the cookie, putting it in a small bag for later. “Here you go, honey.”
“Thank you,” she says as she takes it. Her voice is so sweet.
“You’re welcome, honey,” I reply.
“My name is Margo, not honey,” she says, scrunching up her nose.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Margo. I’m Violet.” I reach across the counter. She places her hand in mine and shakes it, more giggling erupting. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Thank you.”
I look up at the man and smile. “And it was nice to meet you too. Your daughter is adorable.”
“Thanks. I’m Carson Evans, by the way. We just moved into town.”
“Oh, well, I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of one another then. I own the bakery. I’m Violet.” Then I remember that he probably already knows my name since he was standing right next to his daughter when I told her. “Oh, I already said that, didn’t I?” I can’t hold back my nervous laughter. I feel my face heat up.
He blushes but quickly wipes it away again, like he just recalled a bad memory. “Well, I guess we better get going. You ready?” he asks, looking down at his daughter.
She’s already managed to sneak her donut out of the box, and she has pink icing all over her face. She nods, too busy chewing.
We both laugh. “Have a good day.” I wave them goodbye.
“Thanks,” Carson says, giving me a small wave as he holds the door open for the little girl, who’s more worried about eating her donut than watching where she’s going.
When the door closes behind them, I rush around the corner and peek out the window. I see him helping her into the backseat of a very nice Chevy truck. His arms move around like he’s strapping her in, then he closes the door and takes a sip of his coffee as he walks around to the driver’s seat. Just before climbing in, he looks back at the bakery and our eyes meet. His seem to grow even darker, and his angular jaw flexes, but he tears his eyes away from mine and climbs into the truck.
“What in the world are you doing? Jane asks, walking in from behind me.
I jump upright, my hand flying to my heart. “Don’t do that! You scared me.”
She laughs as she walks over to the sink to wash her hands. “What are you looking at out there? Jimmy steaming down main again?”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “No. There’s a new man in town.”
Her eyes widen. “Ohhhh, spill.”
“Well,” I start, coming around the counter to talk to her. “He’s tall and good-looking. He had dark curly hair that he had smashed down with a cap, and he had dark stubble across his jaw. Dark eyes too. And he has a daughter who looks just like him, with dark curly hair and big dark eyes. She was adorable. Her name was Margo.”
“What’s his name?”
“Carson Evans,” I answer with a nod.
“Where’s he living?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to appear stalkerish.”
This makes her roll her eyes. “Nobody could ever accuse you of being a stalker. You don’t even leave your house if it’s not to work.”
“I do too,” I argue. “I just stay on my property. I bought it. Why not put it to good use?”
“Um, to find a man, hello! I highly doubt you’re going to find one wandering your property. And if you do, don’t date him. Run!”
I laugh. “I’ll make a mental note of that.” I head back into the kitchen to finish cleaning up.
Two
Carson
“Violet is nice,” Margo says from the backseat, enjoying her donut.
“Mm-hm,” I agree.
“She pretty too,” she points out.
“You know who I think is pretty?” I ask, looking at her from the rearview mirror.
“Who?”
“You,” I state matter-of-factly.
She rolls her eyes. “You can’t marry me, Daddy.” The tone of her voice sounds like she’s saying duh.
I laugh. “Well, honey, I’m not really looking to marry anyone.”
She frowns at that. “I miss mommy.” Her eyes get sad as her hand holding the donut falls to her lap.
“I know, baby. Me too.”
The ride back to the house is quiet with Katie, my late wife and her mother, on both our minds now. I guess our move here was more about getting a new start. My wife passed three years ago, and neither of us have been able to fully get past it. Margo misses having a mom and having someone who she could play dress up and do makeup and hair with. I miss my wife, the woman I’d been in love with since high school, the person I shared my whole life with. With her gone, neither of us knew exactly what to do. I had to figure out not only how to be a good father but also how to make up for the loss of her mother.
Finally, after three years of letting life pass me by, I had to do something. I had to force myself to move on. Life continues to move around you, even when you feel like it’s all stopped. It’s time that I start moving along with it instead of letting it pass me by.