Page 84 of Make a Scene


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Stepping away from the podium without his notes, he said, “Like how can someone who makes you feel so happy simply by being in their presence be wrong for you? Maybe I haven’t been reading the recipe correctly. Maybe I’ve been using rice flour instead of the regular kind, and I gave up without giving it a second look…”

The narrative thread had been lost.

Duncan clenched and unclenched his jaw before raising his empty hand like he held a glass. “To Trudy and Malcolm Gilmore.”

He walked back to his seat on wooden legs and sat down as the next person spoke.

“Can,” his sister whispered to him from the side of her mouth, “I expect a friend and family discount at a certain bakery soon?”

He looked at Gwen, his heartbeat refused to settle, and he wasn’t sure if he said anything. But in his head, he heard a resounding, “yes.”

ChapterTwenty

Retta had been planningwhat she’d say to Duncan all weekend. However, when she thought of something, his possible rejection would immediately follow. She wanted to be succinct but not leave words unsaid. And clarity was of the utmost importance.

On the day she was making her profession, she’d taken to roughly handling dough and blasting pop music through the kitchen to distract herself from the knowledge that he was a few meters away. You can’t slip into pining and stressing when someone is singing in falsetto over a synth.

Even when the day officially ended, she had to sit tight another hour as the technician she’d been waiting months for, fixed the water heater. The man was talkative and went on about the new uniforms the company had bought them. It distracted her for a bit. However, by the time he completed his task and handed her the invoice, she was about ready to jump out of her skin.

“Thank you so much,” Retta said as she quickly guided the man to the door. “I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, it’s a common problem,” he said, halting before they reached the exit. “You know, one time I was called out to a swanky little neighborhood. The houses over there are so big that my clients didn’t hear all the rattling, and their basement ended up flooding.”

“Oh, wow. That’s unfortunate,” she said, as she swung the door wide open. “You have a great evening now.”

Once alone in the bakery, Retta made sure her face looked as good as it could after a thirteen-hour workday and slung several canvas bags and her purse across her body. The weight of her belongings on her literal shoulders was the only thing that made her feel like she wasn’t going to float up and wither. Her stomach was in knots, and she wished she hadn’t eaten so many ginger cookies in the past hour.

While doing her final scan of the store, she spotted a screwdriver the technician must’ve left. She’d decided to call about the forgotten item the next day when a knock sounded from the front. Expecting to find the man who’d left her store not even ten minutes ago, Retta opened the door with a smile and the tool in hand. But her expression dropped into a frown when she saw who stood there instead.

“I come in peace,” Chris said as he raised his hands and studied the screwdriver she wielded.

Retta dropped her arm. “What are you doing here?”

Her ex-boyfriend was the last person she expected to see today.

“I was in the neighborhood, and I saw the lights were on,” he said.

So he decided to swing by to say hello?

“Can we talk?” he asked after several seconds of silence.

This was probably a bad idea, but she walked back into the bakery and gestured for him to follow.

After removing two upturned chairs from the table and taking a seat, Retta asked, “How are you doing?”

He rubbed his palms against his thighs. “I’m okay.”

His beard looked dry and misshapen, his clothes were wrinkled, and his eyes had bags underneath them.

The last update Retta heard about her cousin was that she was in Portugal, but there was no way that Chris didn’t know that. So he wasn’t here for an update on his ex-fiancée’s whereabouts.

“Why are you here, Chris?”

He took a breath and said, “From what I understand, you were the last person to speak to Irene before…”

“Yeah, I was,” she said.

They sat in silence until he asked, “Can you give me an idea what she said to you? About me.”