Emily had said Rebel. I’d heard it very clearly. There wasn’t another name I could think of that I could be confusing it with. I looked up and Hillya was gone from the kitchen. Emily appeared fine though and was pulling muffins from the oven. Where had the photo gone? Did Hillya take it back to her office? Why hadn’t I listened?
“Where did Hillya go?” I asked as casually as I could.
Emily shrugged. “Uh, to the office I think,” she replied.
“I needed to give her the ingredients.” I also wanted a reason to go in her office and look at the broken photo.
“Oh yeah,” Emily said scrunching her nose. “She left without getting those.”
I tried to think of something to say that didn’t make me look suspicious. “Uh, is she upset over the frame?” I asked.
Emily shook her head. “No the pic is okay. Just broke the frame.”
I nodded and smiled, wishing she would say the name of the person in the picture again. “Good,” I said. “Maybe I should go find her and remind her about the ingredients.”
Emily was doing a hip sway dance with the music while she poured batter into a pan. She didn’t respond. I could wait. I probably should wait. I picked up the bowl and poured the granola onto a baking sheet, glancing back toward the hallway leading to the office. The answer to so many questions could be in there, but if it was then…
Gran.
Gran had sent me here.
Just like she had sent me to the farmer’s market.
I stared at the door, trying to put pieces together and make sense of it all. If Rio was right and the tool boxes had not been the point of that visit, then was my coming here to work because I liked baking not the point of this job?
“Emily?” I asked looking at her.
She lifted her head to meet my gaze. “Yeah?”
I took a deep breath then just asked. “Who is Rebel?”
Emily glanced back at the hallway then looked at me. “Hillya’s son. His real name was Ryan but no one called him that. He died a long time ago though. Before I was born. He was my mom’s only cousin. Hillya only had him,” she said in a whisper.
I stood there staring at her. Hillya had a son. His name was Rebel. He died before Emily was born. Gran… was this it? Is this why you sent me here?
“How old was he?” I heard myself ask her, but it felt as if I was a spectator watching the scene instead of being a part of it.
“Twenty. Car accident or maybe a motorcycle, I can’t remember what Mom said. Somewhere in Georgia, I believe. He was in college. I don’t remember the details. It’s been a long time since I asked Mom who he was,” Emily told me still whispering.
I managed a nod and replied, “Poor Hillya.”
She agreed and then I went back to making the granola because what else was I supposed to do. Gran knew and I now had no doubt why I was here, but did Hillya know… did she know about me?
The rest of the morning was a blur. I messed up two drink orders, forgot to give someone change, and dropped an entire tray of granola on the floor. I kept looking at Hillya, trying to find the resemblance. Then there was Emily. Our parents were first cousins. Did we truly look alike and just not see it? Others had mentioned it. Hillya never had.
By the time the lunch crowd was gone and the afternoon crowd began to slow some, I had almost talked myself into asking Hillya a few questions to see if she acted weird. She may be clueless but then she may be waiting for me to figure it out. Did she think I knew? What if she assumed my mom had told me or my gran? There was so many questions and my head felt like it was going to explode.
“You two can leave. I have an evening shift coming in and I’ll stay until they get here,” Hillya called to us as we wiped down the front while we had no customers.
“Want to go shopping?” Emily asked, looking hopeful.
“I need sleep,” I told her because this morning that would have been true. Right now, I needed to be alone. I also needed to get in Gran’s attic and see if I found anything.
Emily sighed. “Yeah, I probably do too. I think I drank too many espressos though.”
I managed a smile and went to take off my apron, heading for the back. Hillya was pulling a lemon pound cake from the oven when I walked in. I wanted to study her closer but knew I couldn’t just stand there and stare at her. If she knew I was her granddaughter, wouldn’t she have told me? I also wanted desperately to go see the photo of Rebel in her office. She sat the pound cake on the island in the middle of the room and then looked at me.