“Where’s the office?” she asked. I counted that as a win, knowing she was interested enough in me to make small talk.
“Right down the street. I just started today. Investment banking.”
“Ahh,” the woman replied, favoring me with a smile. “You’re looking for the power suit assortment.”
“Sounds good.”
“That’s what I call it,” she continued, pulling out a box and folding it up. “It has a little of everything, including some healthier options.” She slid the door open at the back of the counter and reached inside with a napkin. “People like donuts, so I’ll give you a few of them.”
“Okay,” I agreed, liking where this was going.
“Some people like pastries with jelly, so I’ll throw in a few of those. And for the health conscious, a few blueberry muffins.”
“You’ve done this before,” I accused, pulling out my wallet.
She shrugged. “A lot of our clients are bankers. You get to know what they like.”
“I appreciate you helping me out,” I said, stuffing a five into the tip jar.
She gave me a practiced smile, and I knew she wasn’t impressed. I would have to try harder or take a different route. Simply paying her money wasn’t what she was looking for. I wanted to stay and chat. There were a thousand things I wanted to know, like why she dyed her hair and whether she had studied under any of the masters.
I wondered if she had been to Paris. In my mind, that was where all the great pastry chefs got their sea legs. I could have asked about the restaurant. If it was hers, why didn’t she pay any attention to the lobby or the signage? They could do so much better if they just picked the place up a little bit. As an investment banker, I knew that appearances were important. Customers were much more likely to spend a fortune if they thought they were buying into a well-established place. The poor upkeep was damaging profits, and it didn’t look good for the neighborhood either.
But the woman looked tired, so I let it go. I would have plenty of chances to talk to her again, I reasoned. I could come up for an excuse to buy more pastries. Hell, I could make it a daily thing. I could even stop by the bakery for a cup of coffee on my way to work. That is if they had coffee.
I looked behind me and spotted an urn with a pitcher of milk and some packets of sugar. So that was another option. I took my box, thanked her, and walked out the door. Her familiarity still nagged at me. Rethinking it, I wasn’t convinced that she was an actress or that I had met someone like her before. I had the feeling that I had seen that exact woman, though not in the same setting.
I wondered if we had gone to school together, or maybe I had seen her at a conference somewhere. The odds of me knowing a random stranger in Chicago were astronomical. So why did I still feel like I knew her from somewhere? It would nag at me all day, but there was nothing I could do about it. Maybe on my next trip to the bakery, I could ask her.
She didn’t give me any indication that she recognized me. It was just as well; I didn’t want to come off as too eager. There was just enough interaction to get my foot in the door. I thought it was a good bet I had made a good impression. I would just have to leave it at that. Hurrying back to the office, I arrived just in time to put the donuts down before my college teammate walked in the door.