Part 5
Mara opened her door to find Julian holding a folded scarf.
“That seems suspicious.”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Those two things often travel together.”
He held out his hand. “Will you come?”
She looked from him to the scarf, then reached for her bag.
He didn’t tie it over her eyes until they were near the shop. Even then, she made him promise not to let her walk into a signpost.
“You’ve seen my coordination,” he said. “I’m taking this very seriously.”
“That does not reassure me.”
He guided her slowly along the pavement, one hand around hers and the other at her elbow. She complained about the distance after what he insisted had only been a minute.
“You’ve said we’re nearly there three times.”
“The last one was accurate.”
“Julian.”
“One step up. Now stop.”
He unlocked the door, brought her inside, and untied the scarf.
Mara blinked at the daylight coming through the windows. Her eyes moved from the little tables to the flowers, then to the curved lettering behind the counter.
Maravelle.
She touched his arm without looking away.
“You remembered all of it.”
He waited while she walked to the display case. There were no pastries in it yet. She rested her palm against the glass and looked toward the kitchen.
Then she turned.
“How?”
“The shop was available. It had been a bakery before.”
“That isn’t what I’m asking. This must have cost so much.”
He’d rehearsed the answer. It still caught in his throat.
“I had money put away from my office work.”
“And you used it here?”
“I wanted to give you a start.”
“All your savings?”
“Enough to do this.” He took her hand. “I believe you can make it work.”
She looked down at their joined hands, then drew him into a fierce hug.
“I don’t have words for this.”
“You haven’t seen the back.”
The kitchen made her laugh aloud. She opened an oven, inspected the work surfaces, and stopped in front of the mixers.
“I’ve wanted one of these for years.”
“There are two.”
“I can count. I’m trying to remain calm.”
She moved from one station to the next, already reaching for things that weren’t there yet: bowls, parchment, the bench scraper she kept at home.
“When can we open?” she asked.
“When you’re ready. The agent has the paperwork for putting the lease in your name.”
She turned back toward him.
“This really gets to be mine?”
“Yes.”
She pressed both hands over her mouth, then pulled them away and began listing what they needed to bake.
They designed a flyer at one of the front tables. Mara rejected the first typeface because it looked too formal, changed the order of the pastries twice, and finally pushed the page toward him.
“That one.”
He sent it to be printed.
The following morning, she carried the stack against her chest as they walked through the neighborhood.
“What if we hand all these out and nobody comes?”
“I’ll come.”
“You eat the samples. You don’t count.”
He took half the flyers.
“Then we’ll find people with better financial habits.”
The first woman Mara approached stopped to look at the little illustration of the shop window.
“Is this yours?”
Mara glanced at Julian before answering.
“Yes. We open tomorrow.”
“I’ll stop by.”
“Thank you.”
After that, Mara began spotting likely customers everywhere. She spoke to people outside a grocery store, beside the bus stop, and along the row of small shops near the bakery.
By the time the stack had thinned by nearly fifty sheets, Julian was struggling to keep up.
“You were worried about talking to people this morning.”
“I’m still worried.”
“You followed that woman half a block.”
“She dropped her flyer.”
“She hadn’t taken one yet.”
Mara elbowed him, laughing.
A man outside a nearby shop asked what she planned to sell. She told him about cupcakes, celebration cakes, and fresh pastries, and he folded the flyer into his jacket pocket.
“Save me something good.”
“I will.”
Back at the bakery, she put on her apron before she’d even taken off her earrings.
“We need to bake.”
They stayed until trays covered the racks. Julian packed finished items while Mara checked quantities, changed her mind, and started another batch.
“Unless the entire town comes, I think we can stop,” he said.
“What if the entire town comes?”
“Then we’ll apologize very happily.”
Before they left, he set a ring of keys in her floury hand. The remaining paperwork had been signed that afternoon.
She closed her fingers around them and tested the front lock twice.
On opening morning, Mara stood behind the counter with barely any sleep and a freshly pressed apron.
Julian turned the sign on the door.
“Ready, boss?”
“Open it.”
The woman from the flyers arrived first. She looked around slowly, smiling at the flowers in a small jar on the counter.
“It’s even prettier than the picture.”
“You’re our first customer,” Mara told her.
“Then I’d better make a proper purchase. Six strawberry cupcakes, please.”
Mara lined the box, lifted each cake carefully, and rang up the sale. The register drawer opened with a clean, ordinary click.
When the woman had gone, Mara looked at the receipt in her hand.
“I sold something.”
Julian leaned against the counter. “I witnessed the whole transaction.”
She laughed, and the bell rang again.
At Velune, two regular customers left half their pastries untouched.
“It hasn’t tasted right lately,” one said.
“Not since those two left.”
“I heard there’s a new place on Brindle Street. Maravelle.”
Vanessa, wiping the inside of the display case, stopped moving.
The women gathered their bags and went out. Vanessa took her phone from beneath the register and searched the name.
A photograph showed Mara beneath the new sign. Julian stood beside her, holding a tray.
Vanessa enlarged the image until their faces filled the screen.
Her friend was nearby when she turned it around.
“He bought her a bakery.”
“Vanessa—”
“She couldn’t afford a room like that, never mind the whole place.”
She grabbed her bag.
At Maravelle, Mara had just finished serving a customer when Vanessa came through the door. Julian was stacking clean cups behind her.
Vanessa looked around, her gaze lingering on the display case and the new fixtures.
“Well. You moved on quickly.”
Mara set down the cloth in her hand. “Why are you here?”
“To see what everybody’s talking about.” Vanessa glanced at Julian. “Quite a clever arrangement. Find yourself a rich man, let him buy the business.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t pretend his billions had nothing to do with it.”
Mara’s eyes went to Julian.
He didn’t move.
“Billions?” she said.
Vanessa’s smile widened. “You didn’t know?”
Mara stepped away from the counter.
“Julian. Is that true?”
“Yes…”
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