Page 38 of Never Alone
"Sure thing."
The bell jingled.
A woman came through the door. Late twenties. She already had her phone in her hand. She looked at me the way the others had been looking at me all week. Then she smiled, and the smile was too big for what was happening.
"Hi. Sorry—are you Tessa?"
I looked at Benjie.
"Yes," I said.
"Oh my gosh. Hi." She came up to the counter. Phone still in her hand. "Sorry, I—I run a little account, it's not big, but when I saw the video, I cried? I'm a sucker for a love story. I drove down from Greenville this morning. I just had to meet you. Could I—I just want to ask you a couple of things about—the firefighter?—"
I hadn't given my last name to anyone. I hadn't given the address of the bakery to anyone. I was Tessa M. in the local directory.
She'd found me anyway.
She lifted her phone toward me.
"Do you mind if I?—"
Benjie was at my elbow before I'd registered him moving.
"Hey," he said, easy. The voice he used with customers he didn't want to upset. He took a half-step in front of me, between her phone and my face, and put both hands flat on the counter—taking up the space her camera wanted. "We don't actually do interviews here. I get it, though. The video's everywhere. You came all the way from Greenville. What's your account, by the way? I follow a lot of food creators—always looking for new ones."
"Oh—it's sweethavensworthstories, but I'm not really a food account. I do mostly love story stuff."
"Love stories. Oh, you'd love this place. My grandma started it forty years ago. There's a story behind that brick oven you wouldn't believe."
He held her eyes. He glanced at me—half a second, no expression—and tipped his chin a quarter inch toward the swing door.
"Did you see the photos by the door when you came in?"
I stepped back from the counter. Slowly.
"You missed them? They're right there by the front. That one on the left, that's my grandma in 1985?—"
I turned and walked through the swing door into the kitchen.
I could hear Benjie behind me, still telling her about the photos, still pulling her attention toward the front wall, away from where I'd been.
I grabbed my keys off the hook by the back door. Pushed it open. Slipped out into the alley.
I picked Noah up at three, the way I always did. He was waving at Penny on the bench when I pulled up, his backpack slipping off one shoulder. He climbed in. He told me about a boy in hisclass who'd gotten in trouble for putting glue in his own hair. He asked me what was for dinner. He didn't notice anything was wrong. I drove us back to the bakery the long way, both hands on the wheel, my eyes on the rearview every other block.
The influencer was gone by the time we got back. Benjie was at the register, bagging a loaf for an older woman who'd come in for the end-of-day discount. I held the door for them on the way out, then went up to the counter.
"Thank you, Benjie. For—what you did."
"Don't mention it." He waved it off. "Honestly, every time one of those people walks in here, I'm just gonna take it as free advertising for my grandma's bakery. I'm thinking about getting business cards printed."
I laughed before I'd registered I was going to. It came out shorter than a real laugh and longer than a polite one. He laughed, too, which made me laugh again, and for a few seconds, it felt like a regular Wednesday.
"Go home," he said. "Get some rest. I'll close up."
"Thank you."
I drove Noah home.
