As the last customer finished their treat and waved goodbye, Presley locked the door and smiled to herself. This might not have been her original dream, but she was starting to really like it here. There was something about the small town feel that she had missed.
She grabbed the cleaning rag that hung over the silver faucet of the big basin sink and began wiping down the glass table tops. There were only five tables; the room was rather small but big enough for her needs. Each table boasted two white wrought iron chairs – the fancy ones with the decorative backs and padded seats. They had cost her a fortune, but they reminded her of Paris, so she couldn’t pass them up.
She glanced up at the Eiffel Tower. Trudy, the local artist, had painted it on one wall for her. It wasn’t quite the same as when she could see it out her apartment window, but it was a close second, and Trudy had done it for a month’s worth of treats. Presley was certain she came out on top of that deal, and at least this view didn’t come with a cheating boyfriend.
Her eyes narrowed as she pictured Pierre, the handsome Parisian she had been dating in Paris. He had seemed too good to be true and now she knew why. For all his good qualities, Pierre had the nasty habit of being unable to be faithful to one woman. When Presley had hinted she knew he was cheating, he hadn’t even denied it. Instead, he had played it off like philandering was acceptable in France, and maybe it was, but it was unacceptable to her, so she had packed up her things and come home.
Star Lake, Texas was never her dream, but she was no longer sure what her dream had been before Brandon Scott walked into her life. The day she met him, her dream began to include Brandon and a five-star dessert shop in some upscale city, maybe even Paris. They used to talk for hours about how they would get away from the small town and live life in a big city, but part of that dream had ended the day he told her Morgan was pregnant.
Presley had hoped Morgan would be a leaf in the wind like all the rest of the women had been. Brandon never stayed with one woman for long, and he couldn’t stay single between them for long either. It was obvious he was looking for something and not finding it. Presley had always hoped it was because he was looking for her, but Morgan had been different.
She had been exotic and wealthy, vacationing for the summer to get away from her busy city life. With her beautiful dark hair and stunning blue eyes, she had hooked him from the beginning, and they had been inseparable. Presley had lost her best friend that summer long before she left town.
She should have told him how she felt before Morgan came along, but she had been too afraid, and she’d always thought she would have a little more time.
An incessant rapping at the front door broke her reminiscing, and she looked up to see Trudy frantically waving from the other side.
This had better be good. She knows I close at six.
“You’ll never guess what I just heard.” Trudy’s excitement was punctuated by the squealing of her voice. Her trademark overalls were covered in paint splotches, and a few random splatters dotted her face and outer coat as well. A red bandanna covered her dark hair. She must have been painting recently, though it was too dark for her to have been painting outside.
“What?” Presley asked, though she was not very curious. In Star Lake, people got excited if Max put a new dish on the menu. Well, some got excited. The old, crotchety people complained that the menu wasn’t the same, and they couldn’t find their favorites.
“Paula said she saw new blood come into town today. A hottie.”
Presley took this with a grain of salt. For one thing, Paula was the town’s gossip, and if she didn’t have truthful tidbits, she tended to make them up just to have something to share. For another, Paula was in her forties, but still dressed like she was twenty in tight skirts and cleavage baring tops. She was so man hungry that she thought anything male on two legs was a hottie. She once tried to date the preacher who had to be close to seventy.
“Well, then good for Paula.”
Trudy shook her head and rolled her eyes. “No, Paula said he was young. Like your age.”
Trudy wasn’t much older than Presley, but she had decided she was too artistic for men. She didn’t want to be tied down with a relationship or a man wanting her attention when she wanted to be painting.
“Then I’m sure I will meet him eventually.” Presley was not taking the bait. Ever since she returned a few months ago, the town had been trying to set her up with the few remaining single men she wasn’t related to. And seeing how the town wasn’t very big, that consisted of about three men.
Justin, the recent high school graduate who bagged groceries at the general store and hadn’t decided what he wanted to do with his life yet; Ned, the odd mail carrier who was single for very good reason – the man once tried to establish a chicken petting farm for the elderly; and of course, the seventy-year-old preacher. Most of the other people Brandon and Presley had gone to school with either moved away like they had or stayed but got married. Star Lake was a great town for families, but it was not a hopping singles spot.
“You’re hopeless,” Trudy said, but she helped Presley turn the chairs over on the tabletops, so she could sweep the floor. “You need to get back out there.”
“What do you want me to do?” Presley grabbed the broom from behind the counter. “Camp on a rooftop with a pair of binoculars scanning for this hottie? It’s a small town. If he does exist” – she emphasized the word does, drawing it out to two syllables to make her skepticism unmistakable – “then he’ll come in here sooner or later.”
Trudy stuck her tongue out but dropped the subject and continued turning over chairs.
Though Presley was not looking for a relationship after the disaster with Pierre, she couldn’t help thinking that a man wouldn’t be a terrible thing to have around. The limited dating pool was the one thing she didn’t like about this small town.
After the floor was swept, Trudy ducked out – citing the need to finish her masterpiece, but really it was because she didn’t like menial work. Presley didn’t mind though. She took the remaining pastries out of the display case and wrapped them up. They would only keep for another day, but she was hopeful they would sell tomorrow. Business hadn’t been booming since she started, more like a steady trickle, but it had been good enough to keep the lights on so far. However, if something didn’t change soon, she might have to close the doors, and she had no idea what she would do then.
Sparing one final glance to make sure the place was tidy, she donned her coat and hat. The December air had chilled considerably the last few days, and by the time she left at night, it was almost always near freezing. The first snow ought to be right around the corner. Shoving her hands in her pocket, she began the walk home.
Her breath created tiny wisps of smoke as she exhaled, and the tip of her nose grew cold. Presley was glad she didn’t live far from the shop. She glanced down Cooper street as she passed and could just make out Brandon’s parent’s house.
She didn’t know why she bothered to look when she knew he wasn’t there, but it was a gesture she couldn’t seem to stop. Maybe it was from so many times of looking down the street when they were younger. The few times the two had snuck out, they would meet on the street corner before driving to nearby Mesa for a party. And every time after leaving his house, Presley would stop and turn back, hoping to find him running after her to sweep her up in a kiss.
She’d heard his father was still in the hospital after his fall, and she wondered if Anna would come back to see him. She knew Brandon wouldn’t, as the last she’d heard, he hadn’t been home since moving away. Probably too busy with his business and his family.
Unbidden, thoughts of Brandon filled her head, and Presley wondered about his child. Was it a boy who looked like him or a girl with the beauty of Morgan? The child would be about five now, possibly even in Kindergarten. Presley pictured Brandon sitting with the child at a table and doing homework. In her mind, it was always a girl with Morgan’s eyes who would hold a piece of Brandon’s heart that no other woman would ever touch.
Shaking her head to clear the traitorous thoughts, she continued walking. Though she hadn’t spoken with his mother recently, Presley decided to bake the family something special to let them know she was thinking about them. After all, for years they had been a second family to her.
Half a block later, she reached her apartment. It was a mother-in-law suite attached to her mother’s house but with its own entrance. Presley liked to call it her own apartment, and her mother worked so much that she rarely saw her anyway. Entering, she tossed her coat on the rack before calling for her cat, Niko.
Niko was the perfect man – considerate, always happy to see her, and shared her bed without taking it over. If only he were a man and not a cat. He climbed up on her lap as she sat on the couch and flicked on the TV. The images flashed in front of her eyes, but Presley’s mind was on the hottie. Whether he lived up to his title or not, she was curious as to who he was and why he was here.
The big tourist season was usually in the summer, when rich families from the city decided to test out rustic life for a few weeks. A small handful came in the winter though because the town typically got at least one good snowfall. Maybe the hottie was a food critic who’d heard about her shop and come to taste the wares. Smiling at the thought, she allowed herself to be sucked into the dream.