Doreen folded the newspaper. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I don’t need the money. But this job is fun. And it gets me out of the house.”
“It’s a big deal to me, Mom.” Just as his father’s illness had been a big deal to him. But his mother hadn’t told him about that, either. Not until it was too late. Ean shut off those thoughts. “Tell me about your job. Where’s the bakery? What do you do?”
Her face glowed with pride and pleasure. “Megan added a bakery and meal counter to Head in the Clouds Books. She changed the name to Books and Bakery about six months ago.”
Ean frowned. “Megan? You mean little Meggie McCloud?”
Doreen sobered. “Don’t call her that. She doesn’t like that nickname.”
“Ramona called her that all the time.”
Doreen’s expression didn’t change. “Her name’s Megan.”
“OK.” Ean shrugged. “How did you get the job there?”
Doreen’s features brightened again. “Megan asked me to run the bakery. She said I could make a lot of money selling my cookies and brownies.”
Ean patted his stomach. “She’s right.”
“Well, as I said, I don’t need the money. But I’m having a lot of fun.” She stood and carried her coffee cup to the dishwasher. “I’m socializing again. And I’ve been experimenting with recipes.”
“I wish you’d told me the truth about your job, Mom.”
Doreen crossed to him. She cupped the right side of his face with her palm and kissed his left cheek. “You know now.” She stepped back. “I’ll be home by four o’clock.”
“That late?” Ean struggled with disappointment. “I just got home. I’d hoped we could spend at least today together.”
“We can spend the evening together.” Doreen walked past him and continued out of the kitchen. She stopped to collect her purple purse from the dining room’s corner table. “And I take Sundays and Mondays off. We’ll have more time together then.”
“What should I do until you get home?” Ean trailed his mother to the coat closet. He sounded five years old.
“Finish unpacking. Get settled in. Look up your friends. You’ll think of something.”
Ean looked down at his gray jersey and black running pants. They still were fresh and dry since he hadn’t gone jogging yet. “Can I come with you?”
Doreen paused in the act of slipping into her coat. “What about your exercise?”
He didn’t care that he sounded like a child. But he was concerned the chasm forming between them after yesterday’s argument would grow if they spent today apart.
“I’ll run later.” Ean settled his hands on his hips. “Do you serve breakfast?”
Doreen opened her mouth twice before words followed. “Yes. We serve breakfast, lunch and pastries.”
“Great.” Ean reached past his mother for his jacket. “I’ll order breakfast and see where you work. Besides, it’ll be good to see Megan again.”
His mother seemed flustered. “Well, all right. If you’re sure that’s what you want to do.”
He kissed her cheek. “Think of today as ‘Bring Your Kid to Work Day.’”
CHAPTER 4
Ean took in the dark hardwood flooring and bright inviting wall displays of Books & Bakery. The store had changed a lot since he’d left Trinity Falls, but there was something very familiar about it. It was midway through October, and Halloween themes dominated. Special-interest tabletop displays and overstuffed red armchairs lured patrons deeper into the store, where they were hypnotized by the rows upon rows upon rows of bookcases.
Megan McCloud was born to run a bookstore. Literally. She and her cousin, Ramona, had inherited the store from their paternal grandparents, who’d inherited the establishment decades earlier from his father.
Doreen’s excitement was tangible as she led Ean down the aisles. “With the money her grandparents left her, Megan has been able to modernize the store. It now has a Web presence so people can order books and specialty items online.”
“What about the money Mr. and Ms. McCloud left Ramona?” Ean looked around, fascinated by the new features cozying up to his childhood memories.
“Ramona used her inheritance to start her interior-design business.”
“I remember her telling me that.” Ean scanned the rows of bookcases made from the same dark wood that gleamed beneath his feet. Newly released titles were shelved beside perennial best sellers.
Everything was tidy and smelled of lemon wood polish. There was a rigid organization to the store that nevertheless contributed to the comfortable, inviting atmosphere.
“What types of specialty items has Meggie—Megan—stocked?”
“Mostly local artists’ crafts, like framed artwork, greeting cards and jewelry.” Doreen swept her arm in a semicircle that encompassed the store.
Ean paused at the end of the aisle, riveted by a painting on display. “Is that Ms. Helen’s work?”
“It certainly is.” Doreen beamed at the framed watercolor.
Ean scanned the glossy magazine covers as he followed Doreen past the periodicals. She led him toward the back of the bookstore, away from the comic-book stands lining the far left border between the store and the new café section. The display stirred memories. A vivid flashback of a heated debate between him, Quincy and Darius over who had the coolest superpower, Batman, Spider-Man or Superman? Twelve-year-old Megan McCloud, the self-appointed manager in training, warning him not to bend the pages of the comic book he was handling.
Ean trailed Doreen past the mystery and romance novels to the science-fiction and fantasy books. Some of the series lining those shelves had been stocked since his junior high years: Star Wars, Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica. He’d spent countless Saturday afternoons among those books. They never went out of style.
“This is it.” Doreen seemed nervous and excited as she made the announcement. She crossed the threshold into a modest white-and-silver kitchen lined with modern, industrial equipment.
“Very impressive.” He didn’t know what he’d expected from his ex-girlfriend’s awkward younger cousin. But it hadn’t been this.
Ean circled the bright white-tiled kitchen floor. He pulled open the silver refrigerator door. It was well stocked with eggs, butter and other confectioner’s needs. The cupboards were positioned within reach for his much shorter mother.
He imagined her adding ingredients to the electric mixer before transferring the bakery pans into the industrial-sized oven. He could even hear her humming to herself as she moved around the room, just as she did at home. All of the equipment looked clean and well cared for. The room was a baker’s dream, one he hadn’t realized his mother had.
“This all looks good. It has everything you need.”
Doreen frowned. “You sound surprised.”
Ean shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jogging pants. “I never knew this is what you wanted to do.”
“Neither did I.” His mother’s voice was a whisper.
“When you said you worked in a bakery, I never realized you ran it, that you were the baker. Whenever I called, you talked about gardening, knitting and visiting with friends. But you never mentioned this. You never even mentioned