This town was full of colorful characters. Lucky for me, I liked weird people.
Harper’s eyes lit up. She adored fall and all of its wonderful things. “We should have a bake-off. The grand prize winner gets a big basket of books and a $50 gift certificate for the shop.”
My gaze narrowed as I thought about it. “It could work. Should we make it a little more specific than that? Maybe make it pies? Or fall desserts?”
Harper straightened. “Ooh and have an additional category for best use of cinnamon or cloves!”
“Maybe we could add in a fall-drink category.” I tapped my chin as I thought about it. “We’d have to keep an eye on Corky if we allowed alcohol in.”
A smirk lit up Harper’s face. Corky was my aunt on my mother’s side. I loved her to death, but she was a handful, especially when she whipped her flask out. My mom and I hid the thing at least once a week, but it didn’t matter if Corky found it or not. The next time we’d see her, she’d have a brand-new flask and the same sparkle of mischief in her eyes.
“Does it really matter if we had alcohol or not considering she’s going to bring it in anyway?” Harper snickered. She, like most of the population of this town, adored Corky, but her shenanigans had the potential to be really embarrassing. Plus, I didn’t think she even sipped out of the flask. I suspected she kept it as a prop and as an excuse to act outrageous.
“We’ll just have to watch her,” I said and sighed. “Let’s get it all down on paper and present it to the other stores around here. Maybe we can get them in on it, or at least see if they want to donate anything.”
"Like cupcakes?" Harper asked, her eyes wide and innocent. She knew exactly how much I loved those Sprinkles cupcakes.
"Maybe," I said and winked at her.
The bell over the door jingled merrily, and we both turned to see who'd come in. Tattered Pages had a loyal following in the town, but we also got a lot of traffic from tourists. Some seasons were busier than others.
Fall was arriving in Maine, and with it came the changing of the leaves from bright green to dark reds and burnt oranges. The weather was pretty constant and stayed at a brisk fifty something degrees during the month of October. November, when the harvest festival was scheduled, would dip down into a cool forty something. Harper and I were both wearing a long sleeve shirt and a zipped up over vest. Every time the door opened, a brisk wind would blow into the store, shifting our hair and freezing our noses.
It wasn't too cold yet. That honor would save itself until around Christmas time and we Mainers were a hardy stock.
Jen from Olive Twist! stepped in and with her came the smell of warm, yeasty bread and something with garlic. Like Pavlov's dog, my mouth started to water.
"Garlic?" I said, perking up and sniffing the air. "What is that?"
Jen, pretty and perky for so early in the morning, grinned as the door shut behind her. "It's my new garlic rye loaf." In her late forties, Jen was slim and fit. Her light hair was just starting to silver at the edges of her hairline, but her complexion was still wrinkle-free and smooth. Her face was round, and her cheeks were tinged pink by the cool air.
She smacked my hands away gently as I started to reach for it. "Hold your horses," she said as she walked over to the counter. Steam rose from the brown paper bag as she opened it and slid the bread out. Placing it on top of the bag, she dug around in her purse and pulled out a small knife.
"Always prepared!" she announced. Jen sliced through the bread, cutting two generous slices and handed one to me and Harper, who'd followed behind me.
I snagged mine greedily and took a huge bite. Buttery, garlic goodness burst on my tongue and I stifled a moan. Bread was one of my major vices, but it was one hard to feel guilty about. The other was my habit of weekend, pajama wearing Netflix binges. Both were bad for my waistline.
Jen stared at us in anticipation. "What do you think? I want to introduce this next week and maybe put it in rotation as a menu item."
I perked up at that. "You're going to start selling bread?"
"Ayuh," she agreed. The word made me smile. My parents still used the word, as did a lot of the older folks around here, but it was going the way of bread making with the younger people.
"That's going to be terrible for my waistline and wallet," I said. "But delicious for my belly," I added to soften my words.
"It's a natural progression," Jen said as she lay the knife down on top of the paper bag. "I've been selling oils for so long and making the bread just as a hobby, but for years people have been asking me where to get the bread from." Her shoulder lifted and fell in a slight shrug. "Thought I might as well give them what they're asking for."
"I can't wait," Harper said around a mouth full of bread. "This is wonderful."
"The garlic came from the Coon's farm up the road," Jen said. "Seasonal, so I have to stock up and make sure I store it properly." A frown touched her brow. "If I do it wrong, I'm stuck using grocery store garlic, and it just isn't the same."
I cut myself another slice of the dark rye bread. "Whatever you're doing, keep it up. This is amazing."
"You girls keep the rest of that," she said and waved as she adjusted the purse over her shoulder. "I have to get back to the shop."
My mouth dropped open. "You're leaving us the whole loaf? That's a terrible thing to do, Jen!"
Her laugh echoed in the store as she swept out of the shop, the bell jingling as the door opened.
I stared down in dismay at the garlic rye loaf.
Harper snorted in amusement. "There's this thing..." Harper began. "It's called willpower."
I waved the knife at her. "Don't judge me. This is delicious bread.”
I cut myself another slice and swore I'd eat salad for dinner.
Life was all about balance.
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