avoided the question.”
Melissa sighed. “Gretchen, sometimes I wish you didn’t know me so well. No, I’m not much lower, but I’m working on it. What’s new with the wedding plans?”
The one topic sure to distract her sister from whatever Melissa didn’t want to talk about. Gretchen and Ted had been inseparable since they were sixteen, which made Melissa very happy for her sister and utterly claustrophobic even thinking about it. The couple practically breathed in sync; it was amazing to watch them together. Mom and Dad had been like that, too, which was why Dad had gone into such a tailspin after his wife’s death.
Melissa had dated here and there, but no guy seemed to hold her interest for long. She was happiest when she was learning and growing, and men didn’t seem to be able to bring her that same stimulation.
Of course there was that other stimulation only men could bring, but given her experiences in that arena, she thought on balance a good class did more for her. Maybe she had a low sex drive. She hadn’t been eager to compare notes with other women.
In any case, she was only twenty-five. She could take the next ten years to enjoy herself, if that’s what she wanted, before she got herself tied down. Gretchen, however, didn’t have that long. When Ted asked her to marry him two weeks ago, no one had been surprised, but Melissa nearly blew a gasket when they announced the date. Who could plan a wedding in five weeks? Certainly not Gretchen and Ted. Big sister would have to try.
Breathing deeply, ambling along, listening to Gretchen ramble excitedly about her and Ted’s plans—or rather their intentions not to plan—Melissa finally said goodbye to her sister at the corner of Broadway and Olive, by the Come to Your Senses building, home of the enticing A Taste for All Pleasures bakery. Most days she forced herself to walk past, being an admitted control freak about her calorie intake, but today her stomach felt positively concave with hunger. Besides, she was working out again since her shoulder had healed, and needed those extra calories. Right?
Absolutely.
She mounted the steps to the building and went inside, then pushed open the bakery door, which triggered a familiar tune she couldn’t place. A pretty woman about Melissa’s age, maybe a couple of years older, was just putting out a tray of chocolate chip scones that smelled so amazing in a room already full of amazing smells that Melissa wanted to dive in and suck down a dozen of everything. Did the store do wedding cakes? Gretchen wanted to make her own, but last time she’d baked—a chocolate layer cake for Dad’s birthday—Melissa, their father and Ted had pointedly turned the conversation to Olympic discuses, Frisbees, barbell weights, train wheels … until even Gretchen had broken down laughing.
The woman heard the chime, looked up at Melissa and did a startled double take.
“Oh. Hi, there. Hello.” The woman was staring now. “What—Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Melissa gestured to the bakery case, wondering if she’d turned orange or sprouted antennae. “I’ll have one of the chocolate chip scones, please. And a cup of coffee. To go.”
“Yes. Sure.” Holding a square of waxed paper, the woman picked out a scone and put it into a white paper bag. “Anything else?”
“Well …” Melissa eyed a rack of perfectly domed cupcakes. Maybe instead of a traditional wedding cake, multiple tiers of cupcakes? She’d try them out. “One chocolate, one spice with buttercream and one yellow with strawberry frosting, please.”
“Have you been here before?” The woman rang up the purchases, glancing at Melissa every few seconds. “You look awfully familiar.”
“I’ve passed by on my way home, but haven’t come in.” She pointed in the direction of the park. “I’ve been taking an early yoga class at Cal Anderson.”
The chestnut head shot up. “You take yoga in the park?”
“Uh. Yes.” Melissa took a step back. This had officially become weird. “Why, is it dangerous?”
“No, no, no, of course not, I’m sorry.” The woman offered her hand over the counter. “I’m Angela Loukas.”
“Melissa.” Something about Angela’s eagerness made Melissa protective of her last name. You never knew. Angela could be a cult member who recruited yoga devotees and turned them to the devil.
A group of young mothers came in with kids and strollers, saving Melissa from having to come up with reasons not to sign a pledge to Satan. Angela hesitated, glancing between Melissa and the moms, then moved reluctantly away. “Nice to meet you, Melissa. The coffee is on the counter, help yourself. And … why don’t you walk around the other businesses on the floor before you go? You’d enjoy … everyone. Especially at the end of the hall, there’s—”
“Excuse me?” The mom of a fussy toddler broke in impatiently. “I’m sorry, but my child is about to lose it. Can we order?”
Melissa turned toward the coffee counter. Especially at the end of the hall there was what? She’d been planning to explore anyway, but Angela’s suggestion had seemed oddly pointed. Maybe cult headquarters were down there?
Shrugging, she poured a cup of coffee and wandered out of the bakery, stopping to peer into the window of the business opposite, Bonnie Blooms. Beautiful shop, flowers everywhere, arranged in buckets at different levels, like a floral jungle.
Gretchen was in such sticker shock over florists’ prices, she was ready to give up on flowers except for a bridal nosegay of daisies. As if! Melissa would check this place out. If the owner could produce a nice, relatively inexpensive bouquet, the shop might be a good candidate for her sister’s limited-budget wedding.
She approached the counter and smiled at the shop’s proprietor, whose red hair was set off dramatically by a yellow-and-black bumble-bee-striped minidress.
“Hi, there, can I help you?” The woman returned Melissa’s smile, then blinked, looking surprised, then slightly puzzled.
Oh, no. Not her, too.
“I’d like a mixed bouquet—whatever you think looks nice.”
“Okay. Sure.” She hadn’t stopped staring long enough to blink. “How much did you want to spend?”
“About twenty dollars.”
“Coming right up.” The woman backed toward a bucket to her left and was reaching for a rose, when her attention was caught by something across the hall, toward or in the bakery, Melissa couldn’t see. The woman froze for a moment, eyebrows lifted, peeked back to find Melissa watching her and jerked her head away.
What the hell was going on in this place? “Is something wrong?”
“No. No. Sorry.” She laughed nervously. “I … thought I knew you.”
“Seems to be a lot of that going on around here.”
“No, no.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “I was mistaken. You, um, look like someone we used to know.”
“We?”
“Angela.” She gestured to Melissa’s paper bag. “At the bakery. I’m Bonnie. We, uh, went to college with someone who looked freakily like you.”
“Okay.” That was more comforting than the devil-cult explanation, but Bonnie hadn’t sounded quite convinced, so Melissa wasn’t, either. “I went to Pacific University in Oregon.”
“Definitely not you, then!” She laughed awkwardly. “Have a look around. I’ll just be a minute.”
“Sure.” Melissa meandered through the shop, stopping to inhale over a blossom here and there, the soft fragrances enhancing her temporary inner peace. Really a lovely place. And Bonnie seemed pleasant and anxious to please, apart from the weird staring incident. Her talent remained to be seen.
“All set. Here you go.”
“That