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Chapter Four-Hers

The bus stopped in front of the bakery like clockwork. Sometimes, I wondered if I should get a car, but then I remembered my mother forbade me from learning to drive. It would have been nice to avoid limping from the bus stop. The small wound from Mother's heel wasn't nasty, but it was uncomfortable with the current black wedges I wore. As I looked onto the nice little street, I reveled in the feeling of community. I spotted Ms. Cordeau emerging from her bakery with a huge grin. Once she was in front of me, she gripped my hands and excitedly proclaimed her usual greeting, "Oh, I'm so excited you are safe and sound."

I smiled back at her; after dealing with my mother and her friend this morning, Ms Cordeau was a fresh gust of warmth. I squeezed her hands in return, "I'm always safe and sound, but thank you for thinking of me! How are you today?"

Her smile faltered as she scanned over my face. She seemed to be looking for something. A slight sadness tugged at the corners of her hazel eyes. I didn't know what that implied, but I quickly looked down and away. I could hear the change of tone when she turned, looping her arm through mine. "I'm excellent. Hugo just got promoted in his company, and little Sophie is starting her senior year."

We walked toward my shop, and I felt a huge weight lift off my shoulder. This idle chat felt so lovely after the hateful gossip my mother forced me to endure. Ms. Cordeau came to the shop on Saturdays like this, and a small part of me hoped it was because she knew how much it helped me. Unlike my mother, Ms. Cordeau enjoyed sharing updates on people's happiness and accomplishments as if she were bragging about her own children, something she did quite often. I opened the shop's door, held it open for her, and set about the opening checklist. Ms. Cordeau wandered toward the romance section. She continued to update me on the ongoings of the street as she picked out various books, scanned them, and then put them back. Once the checklist was complete, I took my seat behind the register. I watched out the front window, looking at the alley from last night. Everything looked like it belonged. There were no signs of the glowing orbs.

"You know, that photo student working part-time down the way, he just recently got engaged to his college sweetheart. They are waiting until they both graduate before getting married." Ms. Cordeau continued. I grabbed the cart where returned and misplaced books were stacked, ready to be put back on the shelves.

"That's so cute. His girlfriend, I mean fiancé, is the one with pink hair and likes murder mysteries, right?" I shuffled through the books, double-checking that each item was checked in, marked discounted, or any other necessary task done.

"The very same! Aw, young love." I glanced her way, admiring the look of happy memories on her face. She grabbed a book off the shelf, looked it over, and walked toward me. "What about you?"

"What about me?" I moved toward the counter, loading the computer to scan the book out of my inventory.

"When will we see a wedding in your future?" She raised her eyebrow at me in the most motherly way possible.

I snorted, taking her book on the counter, "Me? Not anytime soon. A wedding would require an actual boyfriend."

She sighed, patted my hand, and arched her eyebrows when she saw the colorful marks exposed on my wrist. Ashamed, I pulled my arm back, tugged the sleeve down, and waved her off like it wasn't a big deal. "Plus, I know you have a vague idea of who my mother is and what she is like. It would take a very patient man to love me enough to deal with her."

Ms. Cordeau sucked her teeth at the mention of my mother. The two had met on several occasions and were at odds, to put it politely. Despite their apparent feud, I still had to choose my words carefully. Trusting the wrong people would never again be a mistake I made. In the most sugar-coated voice I've ever heard, Ms. Cordeau mused, "That woman sees the world in one way, and you see the world as it really is. Your mother stubbornly clings to an ideal the rest of the world has long forgotten. I think you, dear sweet girl, should trust your gut above anyone else's fear-fueled opinions."

I wondered for a moment if she actually knew more than she was letting on. A customer walked in, sounding the bells, which snapped me back to the present. I picked up the book she handed me and read the title. I raised an eyebrow at Ms. Cordeau, and she just laughed at me. I said in a teasing voice, "Werewolf love triangle? I feel as though you have a specific type."

"Yes, I like my men a little wolffish." She chuckled, taking her book with a wink. She gave me a knowing smile, "Fate has a way of working things out, especially things that are bonded together. Speaking of fated bonds now…"

We both looked out the window to see her husband standing across the street with Micheal, the owner of the Italian restaurant called Pauli's Pizza Pizzazz. I couldn't help but feel admiration for their love for one another. Ms. Cordeau made her way to her husband, waving goodbye to me. I watched them interact for a few moments, their devotion so clear. I let my mind imagine what it would feel like to have someone as devoted to me as I was to him. How nice it would be to come home and have someone say, 'Welcome Home!' or someone to laugh with.

I began to look away, not wanting to go too far down the rabbit hole of what-ifs and never-gonna-happen; when something caught my attention, or more accurately, someone. An extremely handsome man walked down the street and greeted Michael with a handshake. As they exchanged pleasantries, the man glanced towards my shop, and I could've sworn our eyes met. The intensity of his stare made something click into place inside my brain. It felt like an eternity of us just staring at one another. I wanted to get lost in his gaze, and he felt so familiar for some reason. I shook my head, forcing myself to look away. Just as instantly as he had appeared, the man guided a group of people in semi-formal attire inside the restaurant. I couldn't shake the anxious feelings the man's gaze gave me; however, the Saturday rush soon replaced my thoughts of the man.

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