Read Online Between Two Wolves and a Hard Place by Cassie Wright - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cassie Wright
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glorious. A number of people are crossing slowly, pausing to bend down and read name tags, and here and there ridiculously fat bumblebees are humming as they waft slowly through the air.
I pause.
Did that bee have a smiling face? I blink, but it's gone. Surely not. I rub at my head and keep going, taking in the gorgeous flowers. The women here have real talent, and for a moment I feel my panic retreat. I enjoy the sun on my face, the beauty of nature, and the good energy of the folks enjoying the bridge like I am.
When I get to the far side I take a deep breath and look around, and see that a new spot has opened next to Mindy's General Store. It's simply called Anita's, and from the display window I can immediately tell it's my kind of store: a gourmet bakery. I cross the street, tummy rumbling, and pull open the door, enjoying the pleasant tinkle of the bell.
Inside, everything smells delicious, and the lighting is warm and inviting. The counters, floor, and tables gleam, and the display case shows an array of tempting morsels that bewilder me. Which to eat first? I drift up to the counter, and a plump woman a little older than me beams a smile at me, adjusting her glasses and wiping her flour-covered hands on her apron. She's working on what looks like the frosting of a wedding cake, which looks absolutely scrumptious.
"What can I get you today?" She's so pleasant, her smile so genuine, that I can't help but smile back.
"I don't know. I feel overwhelmed. Is it wrong for me to want to eat everything?"
She laughs, a warm sound. "Given that I baked most of them, I'm delighted to hear that. The only thing that's out of bounds is this wedding cake. How about a boysenberry bear claw? They're fresh out of the oven."
"Ooh," I say, leaning down to inspect them. "Perfect. And a coffee too, please."
"Coming right up." She places the bear claw on a small plate and sets it on the counter, then turns to pour my coffee. I hug myself, moving back to the front window where I stare out at the old mill across the Conway. It looks grand, august even, and I can't believe I have the perfect studio in there.
Which brings me back to my dilemma: what am I going to create? What is my line of glasswork going to revolve around? Vases? Abstract shapes? Small and detailed, or large and ornate? I don't have time to deliberate. I need to know, and now.
"Here you go," says the woman, setting the coffee next to the pastry, and I step back to pay.
"Are you guys new? I grew up around here, but I haven't been back in awhile."
The woman swipes my credit card and hands it back to me. "We just opened up last fall. I'm Anita, by the way."
"Hello!" I shake hands with her over the counter, her infectious smile bringing back my own. "Kiera. I love your bakery."
She gives me a cute little shrug. "Thanks! I love it too. I hope to see you around."
I nod, pick up my coffee and bear claw, then move back to the window. You wouldn't get this kind of contact with a random barista in New York. Or if you did, it would be because they'd been instructed to be friendly in their corporate training.
I sigh and sit. Art. Glass. What to do? I cycle all of my favorite artists' work through my mind, but I don't want to be derivative. Whatever I create has to reflect where I am in my life, who I am right now, what I'm going through. And what is that?
I munch on my bear claw and moan, then immediately cover my mouth and blush, looking over my shoulder. Anita clearly heard, and looks past the customer standing in front of her to give me a grin and a thumbs-up. I beam back, then turn around. The pastry really is amazing. I wash my bite down with a sip of coffee, then force my thoughts back on track.
What feels most real to me right now? Loss. Anger. Shame. Those are the first words that come to mind. Marv standing in the hotel doorway, offering me fifty bucks if I'd let him take me from behind. That memory causes anger and the closest I've ever felt to hatred to blossom
I pause.
Did that bee have a smiling face? I blink, but it's gone. Surely not. I rub at my head and keep going, taking in the gorgeous flowers. The women here have real talent, and for a moment I feel my panic retreat. I enjoy the sun on my face, the beauty of nature, and the good energy of the folks enjoying the bridge like I am.
When I get to the far side I take a deep breath and look around, and see that a new spot has opened next to Mindy's General Store. It's simply called Anita's, and from the display window I can immediately tell it's my kind of store: a gourmet bakery. I cross the street, tummy rumbling, and pull open the door, enjoying the pleasant tinkle of the bell.
Inside, everything smells delicious, and the lighting is warm and inviting. The counters, floor, and tables gleam, and the display case shows an array of tempting morsels that bewilder me. Which to eat first? I drift up to the counter, and a plump woman a little older than me beams a smile at me, adjusting her glasses and wiping her flour-covered hands on her apron. She's working on what looks like the frosting of a wedding cake, which looks absolutely scrumptious.
"What can I get you today?" She's so pleasant, her smile so genuine, that I can't help but smile back.
"I don't know. I feel overwhelmed. Is it wrong for me to want to eat everything?"
She laughs, a warm sound. "Given that I baked most of them, I'm delighted to hear that. The only thing that's out of bounds is this wedding cake. How about a boysenberry bear claw? They're fresh out of the oven."
"Ooh," I say, leaning down to inspect them. "Perfect. And a coffee too, please."
"Coming right up." She places the bear claw on a small plate and sets it on the counter, then turns to pour my coffee. I hug myself, moving back to the front window where I stare out at the old mill across the Conway. It looks grand, august even, and I can't believe I have the perfect studio in there.
Which brings me back to my dilemma: what am I going to create? What is my line of glasswork going to revolve around? Vases? Abstract shapes? Small and detailed, or large and ornate? I don't have time to deliberate. I need to know, and now.
"Here you go," says the woman, setting the coffee next to the pastry, and I step back to pay.
"Are you guys new? I grew up around here, but I haven't been back in awhile."
The woman swipes my credit card and hands it back to me. "We just opened up last fall. I'm Anita, by the way."
"Hello!" I shake hands with her over the counter, her infectious smile bringing back my own. "Kiera. I love your bakery."
She gives me a cute little shrug. "Thanks! I love it too. I hope to see you around."
I nod, pick up my coffee and bear claw, then move back to the window. You wouldn't get this kind of contact with a random barista in New York. Or if you did, it would be because they'd been instructed to be friendly in their corporate training.
I sigh and sit. Art. Glass. What to do? I cycle all of my favorite artists' work through my mind, but I don't want to be derivative. Whatever I create has to reflect where I am in my life, who I am right now, what I'm going through. And what is that?
I munch on my bear claw and moan, then immediately cover my mouth and blush, looking over my shoulder. Anita clearly heard, and looks past the customer standing in front of her to give me a grin and a thumbs-up. I beam back, then turn around. The pastry really is amazing. I wash my bite down with a sip of coffee, then force my thoughts back on track.
What feels most real to me right now? Loss. Anger. Shame. Those are the first words that come to mind. Marv standing in the hotel doorway, offering me fifty bucks if I'd let him take me from behind. That memory causes anger and the closest I've ever felt to hatred to blossom
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