Day two of @kay-m-sinc's writing challenge: Mr. Baker's Special
Photos from Pinterest (not mine)
Bustles of people clacking over slick cobblestones and rustling coats as people slunk by each other. Shoulders touching, hands brushing. Cars scuttled and screeched, bikes chiming and trilling. Umbrellas bumped up against one another, some people held bags or newspapers over their heads, rushing to get out of the rain. The air was crisp with vanilla and dulled by mulched leaves.
A woman in a crimson coat stood still in front of a shop window as strangers weaved their way around her. She sniffled and tugged on the fringe of her scratchy scarf. Large lettering smiled down on her: Herr Lehmann's Bäckerei. The yellow font swished across the glass, just like she remembered. She shuffled to the door and pushed it open. Warm air spilled over her as the bell above her head cheered, "Welcome, welcome!". Intimate groups of friends gathered around small, round tables; mugs, cakes and pastries held carefully in hand. They chuckled and chortled, tittered and talked, exchanging stories and jokes, warming each other on these colder days. She looked toward the counter, moving from the door as an elderly woman squeezed by her. A familiar face framed by bouncing, brown curls stood placing new croissants in the display case. When she was a little girl, she used to think the mole above his lip was a fleck of chocolate.
"Lydia?" Their eyes met.
"Johann." Her voice was soft, he barely heard her through the merriment of his customers.
"Lydia, it's been... how long has it been? A- a long time." Johann fumbled at his apron, setting it aside before bounding up to Lydia.
"Ten years." She chuckled, wrapping her dripping arms around his firm shoulders, "I'm surprised you even remember."
"Aber, natürlich. Of course, of course I remember." He beamed, swaddling her in his embrace. In the crook of his neck, all Lydia could smell was cinnamon and sandalwood.
"I see you took this place over." Lydia noted, raising an eyebrow and drawing away from her old friend, "I like the plants, and I always thought that wall should have been red." She gestured towards the wall behind the counter.
"You always thought everything should be red." Johan giggled, placing his fists on his hips.
"I took over, from my father. He's alright, just decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life in Portland." Lydia shook off her coat and placed it on the rack behind her. The tips of her fingers tingled and her cheeks felt flushed.
"Oregon? Across the ocean?" Lydia laughed, a bright, beaming laugh. Crystal clear. Everyone stopped their conversations for just a moment to listen.
"Yeah... unexpected, I know. But his new girlfriend is from there, and she wanted to go back home. He followed." Johann explained as he guided Lydia to an empty table in the back of the bakery. The chairs were still the same; the brass frame had the same dull sheen and the dark, wooden seats were still chipped around the edges.
"I told you I'd come back."
Johann furrowed his brow and cleared his throat. They sat down. Across from each other.
"You did. And... you are." He locked his fingers together and rested his elbows down on the table. His eyes went glossy, his lip quivered. Lydia stretched to place her hand atop his, gently tracing her fingers over his floury thumbs. He sighed as a smile graced his face once more.
"I wrote my book." Johann cocked his head, "Wirklich. All 378 pages."
"Wouldn't 380 have been more satisfying?" Lydia chuckled and pulled back. Johann and his sly remarks.
"I knew you would say that. I..." She paused, tucking her hair behind her ear, "It just felt right this way. I've published 100 copies, 74 have been bought." Lydia bent down to rummage around in the bag she had set down on the tiled floor.
"Here." She placed a book on the table. The cover was cloth, covered in a pattern of intertwined peonies and dandelions, pink and yellow springing up from the object. Johann took it in his hands, it seemed smaller when he held it.
"Bethmännchen." He read, "Goodness, I remember how much I used to beg papa to make those when you came over." Lydia smiled, watching the twinkle in Johann's eyes dance. "He would say they were only for Christmas, but he always caved. For you. Always for you." He looked back up at her, placing the book back down on the tabletop. Lydia's hair collected droplets of rain, sliding down each curl. The freckles on her face were the same. He used to think that they were dirt when he was a little boy; with the amount of time they spent running around the grass in the schoolyard, it seemed only logical.
"Take a look at this menu." Johann advised, slipping a laminated sheet out of the small centrepiece. Lydia took it in her hands, scanning the options. In the middle of everything she read her name.
"Bethmännchen. Lydia's Favourite." Johann pressed his finger onto the menu.
"I'm sorry I left."
"Don't be. Have the special. Have your favourite. We will go out for some coffee when my shift is over. We'll talk it over."
"Everything?"
"Everything."
