Trinity Falls (Finding Home 1)

Ean took in the dark hardwood flooring and bright inviting wall displays of Books & Bakery. The store had changed a lot since he’d left Trinity Falls, but there was something very familiar about it. It was midway through October, and Halloween themes dominated. Special-interest tabletop displays and overstuffed red armchairs lured patrons deeper into the store, where they were hypnotized by the rows upon rows upon rows of bookcases.

Megan McCloud was born to run a bookstore. Literally. She and her cousin, Ramona, had inherited the store from their paternal grandparents, who’d inherited the establishment decades earlier from his father.

Doreen’s excitement was tangible as she led Ean down the aisles. “With the money her grandparents left her, Megan has been able to modernize the store. It now has a Web presence so people can order books and specialty items online.”

“What about the money Mr. and Ms. McCloud left Ramona?” Ean looked around, fascinated by the new features cozying up to his childhood memories.

“Ramona used her inheritance to start her interior-design business.”

“I remember her telling me that.” Ean scanned the rows of bookcases made from the same dark wood that gleamed beneath his feet. Newly released titles were shelved beside perennial best sellers.

Everything was tidy and smelled of lemon wood polish. There was a rigid organization to the store that nevertheless contributed to the comfortable, inviting atmosphere.

“What types of specialty items has Meggie—Megan—stocked?”

“Mostly local artists’ crafts, like framed artwork, greeting cards and jewelry.” Doreen swept her arm in a semicircle that encompassed the store.

Ean paused at the end of the aisle, riveted by a painting on display. “Is that Ms. Helen’s work?”

“It certainly is.” Doreen beamed at the framed watercolor.

Ean scanned the glossy magazine covers as he followed Doreen past the periodicals. She led him toward the back of the bookstore, away from the comic-book stands lining the far left border between the store and the new café section. The display stirred memories. A vivid flashback of a heated debate between him, Quincy and Darius over who had the coolest superpower, Batman, Spider-Man or Superman? Twelve-year-old Megan McCloud, the self-appointed manager in training, warning him not to bend the pages of the comic book he was handling.

Ean trailed Doreen past the mystery and romance novels to the science-fiction and fantasy books. Some of the series lining those shelves had been stocked since his junior high years: Star Wars, Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica. He’d spent countless Saturday afternoons among those books. They never went out of style.

“This is it.” Doreen seemed nervous and excited as she made the announcement. She crossed the threshold into a modest white-and-silver kitchen lined with modern, industrial equipment.

“Very impressive.” He didn’t know what he’d expected from his ex-girlfriend’s awkward younger cousin. But it hadn’t been this.

Ean circled the bright white-tiled kitchen floor. He pulled open the silver refrigerator door. It was well stocked with eggs, butter and other confectioner’s needs. The cupboards were positioned within reach for his much shorter mother.

He imagined her adding ingredients to the electric mixer before transferring the bakery pans into the industrial-sized oven. He could even hear her humming to herself as she moved around the room, just as she did at home. All of the equipment looked clean and well cared for. The room was a baker’s dream, one he hadn’t realized his mother had.

“This all looks good. It has everything you need.”

Doreen frowned. “You sound surprised.”

Ean shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jogging pants. “I never knew this is what you wanted to do.”

“Neither did I.” His mother’s voice was a whisper.

“When you said you worked in a bakery, I never realized you ran it, that you were the baker. Whenever I called, you talked about gardening, knitting and visiting with friends. But you never mentioned this. You never even mentioned Megan.”

“I didn’t think—”

“You didn’t think it was a big deal. I know, Mom. But it is.” And it changed everything.

His mother had never before worked outside of the home. She didn’t have to. As a financial executive with the investment firm headquartered in the neighboring town, his father had made enough money to take care of his family. That left his mother with plenty of time to spend on him. Ean’s gaze swept the room and its many shiny appliances. It had replaced him as the focus of much, if not all, of his mother’s attention.

Doreen hung up her coat and shrugged into her apron. “Just because I have a job doesn’t mean I won’t be able to spend time with you.”

Ean frowned. Had his mother read his mind?

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” Ean watched as she worked the room, gathering cooking utensils and ingredients with quick, practiced movements.

She spared him a smile from over her shoulder. “You know I don’t like people helping me in the kitchen. It throws me off my rhythm. Just sit down and keep me company.”

The words drew a chuckle from Ean. His mother had been telling him the same thing since he was six. That’s when he’d started offering to help with the baking, when all he’d really wanted was to lick the bowl.