“Be careful,” she whispered in my ear then let me go and stepped back smiling, but when her gaze met mine, I realized the smile didn’t meet her eyes. She was warning me and she feared I wouldn’t listen.
Twenty-Seven
Leaving Saul’s bed at four in the morning wasn’t easy. However, work started off busy and didn’t let up. Emily had woken up with a migraine and we were shorthanded. Hillya had called her other part-time employees, but no one had been able to come in on short notice.
It wasn’t until one thirty that we got our first lull in the day and could take a moment. Hillya sat down on the stool behind the counter. “I should be making some food for the evening crowd, but I need to sit for a minute,” she told me.
I walked over to the espresso machine to make myself a cappuccino. I had never required caffeine as much as I did today. Everything I had made this morning was gone and Hillya only had three pecan muffins and some shortbread cookies left in the bakery display. I knew she had more things in the cooler to put in the oven but neither of us went to do that.
“Want something?” I asked her, as the machine started brewing the shot of espresso.
Hillya shook her head. “Nothing you can make. Now, I could use some younger legs and a better back,” she replied.
I finished making my cappuccino then went to take the vacant stool. It did feel good to get off my feet. I needed to find time to get more sleep. The past two days hadn’t had much of that.
“Is your mother coming down anytime this summer to see you?” Hillya asked.
We hadn’t talked much about my family, especially my mother. Knowing what I did now, it seemed weird to talk about her to Hillya. I shook my head. “No,” I replied.
“I’m sure she misses you,” Hillya said.
I thought about that a moment and decided I would be honest here. “She misses not having me around to control.”
Hillya frowned then. “What do you mean?”
“Mom and I are very different,” I told her. If she was going to open a door, I would test it to see how far I could walk into it.
“How so?”
“My mom is vain; she is very judgmental and she has an idea of what my life should look like that I don’t agree with. I love her, I overlook her issues, I accept her for who she is. She just can’t do the same for me,” I replied.
Hillya tilted her head to the side. “You must be more like Honey,” she said.
I looked at her then and decided to walk through the door. “Or like my father.”
Hillya didn’t give much away, but I could see her tense. She forced a smile that didn’t match the uncertainty in her eyes. “Did you know him? Your father?” Hillya asked me.
“No. I never got the chance. He died when I was two years old. My mom refused to speak of him or answer my questions about him. It’s something I think will always stand between us.” I finished and I waited. The ball was in Hillya’s court now. This wasn’t how I had imagined this conversation would play out, but it was happening and I realized I was ready for it.
“How did he die?” she asked me.
“She said a motorcycle accident somewhere in Georgia, but she has never been honest with me about things and I don’t know if that’s true.”
Hillya sat there silently for several moments and I wondered what I would do if she changed the subject. Could I do that? We were so close to it now and I wanted to know. I had wanted to know most of my life. Now, that it was opened up, I didn’t think I could let her close it again.
“Perhaps she had her reasons,” Hillya said finally.
All my life I had taken the responses about my father and accepted them. My mom would tell me nothing and only get angry when I asked any questions. My Gran would say she didn’t know more than my mother had told her. They had both lied to me. If Hillya was who I believed her to be then I wasn’t going to let her lie to me too. Gran had sent me here for a reason, and I didn’t think it was because of my baking.
“Can I see the photo of Rebel?” I asked her then.
Her chin shot up and her eyes went wide as she looked at me in surprise or maybe it was shock. I waited for her to think it through and respond. I wasn’t in a hurry; I had waited my whole life and I could wait a few more minutes.
“You know,” she whispered.
That was my answer. The one I needed. The clarification that my father had been Hillya’s son. My gran had sent me here with that letter for this reason. She hadn’t told me because she was doing what my mother wanted, but she was leaving the clues there in front of me to figure it out myself.