“Thanks, Daddy.” She’s not taking her eyes off the screen.
“You’re welcome,” I reply, heading back for the kitchen. I place my hands on the counter and hang my head. I just have to focus on the here and now. Forget the past. One foot in front of the other. I have to remember to focus on making it one day at a time.
With everything feeling back to normal, I get back to work with unpacking and putting everything away. When I finish up in the kitchen, I go to join Margo on the couch. She’s done with her donut, and her milk is gone. She’s lying on the couch, watching TV and falling into her late morning nap.
I can’t take my eyes off her as I watch her slip away into unconsciousness. She’s beautiful, smart, and kind. I wish Kate could see her. She’d be so proud. She looks so much like the two of us mixed together, it isn’t funny. She has my dark curly hair and my dark eyes, but the shape of her face, the roundness of her cheeks, the cute button nose, and pouty lips—that’s all Kate. She’s far too sweet to get any of her looks from me too. Her fight and determination, that’s all me. I am definitely going to have my hands full when she becomes a teenager.
I push that thought away immediately, not looking forward to it in the slightest. I let myself relax, and before I know it, I’m asleep too. Only in my dreams, I’m not in Grand Lakes, Colorado. I’m back in Chicago, in college, and feeling my girl kiss my neck from the passenger side seat.
Three
Violet
The week passes, and unfortunately, I don’t see Carson or Margo again. Every time the door opens, I look up, hoping to see them walking in, but it never is. Maybe the bakery isn’t going to be a daily thing for them. Maybe it will be like some others in town: just a nice treat here and there. That thought makes me sad. I would like to see them more often and get to know the little girl I see so much of myself in, get to know her father, and become friends so that my friendship with a child doesn’t seem so weird.
I’ve all but given up on seeing them again when the door opens and Margo runs in. “Violet!” she yells, coming to a sudden stop before the counter.
I lean down with a smile. “Hi, Margo. Where you been?”
She motions toward her dad. “Home. He don’t let me leave. I’m a prisoner,” she breathes out, clearly tired of being stuck at home and it makes me laugh.
“Well, you’ve escaped today! What treat do you have in mind?”
“I want cookies and cupcakes and donuts and candy,” she starts listing off.
“Whoa, okay now. Remember what I said?” Carson says from behind her.
She takes a long breath and lets it out slowly. “Just the cupcakes, please.”
I smile and look up at him. “How many?”
“Just a half dozen, please,” he replies, already pulling out his wallet.
“Margo, would you like to pick out the ones you want?”
She runs down to the end of the display cases where the cupcakes are. “I want a blue one, a pink one, a purple one, a green one, yellow, and red.”
“Alright. Good job,” I say, grabbing one of each color.
I put them into a box and then bring them over to the counter. “Is that it? Would you like any coffee?”
“No, that’s all.” He hands over his card to pay.
I swipe it and wait for it to go through. “I bet your mommy is going to love the cupcakes you picked out,” I say with a smile.
She frowns. “Mommy is—”
“Going to love them,” Carson says, cutting her off.
I feel like I’ve stuck my foot in my mouth, so I hand over his card and receipt. “Well, enjoy.”
He nods as he grabs the box off the counter and drags Margo to the door.
“Why you say that?” Margo asks him, but the door closes and I can’t hear his answer.
I crane my neck to keep watching them, but they’re soon out of my view, and I have to let my eyes fall back to the register I’m standing in front of. I lean against the counter and think back on our conversation. It was weird the way he cut her off like that. He clearly did not want her telling me whatever she was trying to say. Something about her mom? Is he recently divorced? Is there some kind of trouble or story there that he didn’t want her spilling? I wish there was a way I could find out for sure, but I don’t know how. This guy clearly doesn’t have any interest in me. He doesn’t seem to be looking for friends or anything more. Why do I care so much?
The door opens and Mrs. White walks in.
I shake off my confusion regarding him. “Good afternoon, Mrs. White.”
“Good afternoon, dear. Was that Carson Evans and his daughter I just saw walk out?” she asks, moving to stand in front of me on the opposite side of the counter.
I nod. “It was. They’ve been coming by about once a week to get her special treats. She’s super sweet.” I smile.
“Well, isn’t that nice. Such a shame though. That poor man and his daughter have been through too much already.”
My mouth drops open, but I snap it shut. My brows pull together. “What do you mean? You know about him?”
She nods. “Mm-hmm, I’m on the town committee, dear. I know everyone in this town and their backstory.”
“Are you going to tell me or hold out on me?” I tease as I pour her cup of coffee and hand it over.
She smiles. “Well, word on the street is that he just moved here from Chicago. He was some high-profile lawyer there and made boo koo bucks, but his wife passed away in a car accident a couple of years ago. He and his daughter moved here for a fresh start. I guess he couldn’t stand to look at their old home anymore. So sad…”
Wow, that is sad. Poor Margo. “Where’s he living at now?”
“He just bought a place on Shadow Mountain Lake on Highway 34. It’s the big cedar place with the floor to ceiling windows. You know the one.” She points at me.
I nod. “Wow, so he must have made boo koo bucks,” I say, using her term.
She nods. “What’s all this interest in him, honey? You’re not thinking of—”
“No!” I jump to say. “It’s just a small town, you know? I know everyone that comes in here, except him. And he keeps himself so guarded that I knew he wouldn’t volunteer the information up willingly.”
She nods but offers up a sly smile like she doesn’t believe a word of it.
“Anyway, what will it be today? Donuts, croissants?”
It’s been three days since he last came into the bakery, and each day that passes seems to go by slower than the last. I don’t know why, but I want to see him again. I want to feel that tingle that forms in my stomach when he’s near. I want the breathlessness when his eyes meet mine. I want to be close enough to smell him, to feel his heat against my skin. I know, I know. Stupid. He’s a single father who’s still mourning his dead wife, but still, something is pulling me toward him, and I don’t know what.
I’ve never been the overly friendly type. I make friends easy enough, but I’ve never went out of my way to do so. I’ve never forced myself on anyone who didn’t seem to want my company, but all that gets thrown out the window when it comes to Carson.