Sanctuary Lost WITSEC Town Series Book 1 (44 page)

Frannie unlocked the back and walked through
the kitchen, flipping on lights. There was a faint smell of lemon
scented cleaner and the stainless steel surfaces gleamed. At least
someone was still doing their job.

She got started, measuring dough for three
kinds of bread, sweet rolls, cinnamon rolls and the chocolate
pastries one of her customers had requested yesterday. While the
dough rose, she started a pot of coffee and scrambled herself two
eggs. She ate standing up, trying not to let the fire her mom had
lit in her stomach flicker to life. It lived there, never really
gone, just embers ready to flare up at any moment. She’d lived with
it for so long that when the anger and frustration stirred up, it
would catch her off guard with its ferocity.

She didn’t want to hate them.

Frannie grabbed her heaviest rolling pin and
started to roll out the dough for cinnamon rolls. Who needed
therapy, or a work-out? Her kitchen—her work—was the place where
she reveled in the solitude. Here, she didn’t have to be strong or
brave or smart. It was just her and her ingredients, and the
infinite number of things she could create.

She rotated the board and continued to roll
out the dough, over and over again.

Why did her mom have to send her downstairs
all those years ago? Frannie didn’t have to ask herself what kind
of mom did that to their child, because she knew. She lived it. For
once, Mimi could have stepped ahead of her children to accept what
might come at them. But, no. Mimi only ever thought of herself,
which left Izzy oblivious since she went along with everything, and
Frannie beyond frustration, somewhere near exhausted with it all.
And wondering why her life had to be like this.

“Did the dough offend you?”

The corner of Frannie’s mouth curled up. His
voice sounded even better in her head than in person. Full and
smooth, like hickory smoke. She had it bad if she was imagining him
talking to her when she was alone in the bakery and the sun hadn’t
risen over the mountains yet.

He cleared his throat.

Frannie froze. She looked over at the door to
the front of the bakery with just her eyes, seeing him there at the
corner of her vision. Then she glanced at the clock. The sun was up
by now. She should have the ovens on. But Frannie didn’t move, she
just said, “Two loaves of sliced white and twelve chocolate
cupcakes?”

She swiped her floury hands on the front of
her apron. A strand of hair had come loose from her ponytail,
making her itch to push it back.

“Actually…” He paused. “Um…it’s Francine,
right?”

“Frannie.” She frowned. If the front door was
still locked, how did he get in? “You’re in my kitchen—”

She looked up and was struck again by exactly
how dark his eyes were. He couldn’t be more than a few years older
than her, late twenties probably. His brother Diego was
twenty-four; she knew that from Izzy and Mimi’s conversations.
Thick dark-brown hair fell onto his forehead in disarray, as though
he simply smashed his hat on with no thought to what that would do
to it. “You’re Matthias, right?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled and the
color actually lightened. There was a moment of silence, and then
he said, “Tias.”

It sounded like
Tee-yas.
“I’ve never
heard anyone call you that.”

He shrugged, apparently not noticing that the
comment made her sound like a stalker who followed him all day
listening to his conversations. “No one does. I just decided I
wanted a shorter version of my name.”

“And you gave it to me?” Great, now she felt
even weirder. As if this whole thing wasn’t awkward enough. “Are
you sure there isn’t something you need? Actually, why don’t you
tell me how you managed to get in the locked front door?”

His dark eyebrows drew together and he
motioned to the front of the store. “You haven’t been out front
yet?”

Frannie shook her head, already moving toward
him. Thankfully he got out of the way for her to push through the
swinging door to the storefront. She stopped so abruptly that
Matthias…Tias slammed into the back of her with an, “oof.” Frannie
took in the scene. Dishware she had painstakingly unpacked was
strewn across tables, and there was even a mug on the floor. Crumbs
littered the scene. Coffee stains marked surfaces along with other
liquids.

Frannie weaved between tables. Cupcake
casings had been crumpled and tossed on the floor. Fabric that
she’d stretched on the seats herself was damp with spills.

The fire in Frannie’s stomach ignited,
flaring hot all the way to her toes and the tips of her fingers.
Even her hair felt like it was on fire. Boiling tears burned her
eyes.

She lifted a plate and pitched it at the
wall. It shattered. Frannie bent double and set her hands on the
table in front of her. The inferno rushed in her ears and she
didn’t hear the sob when her body bucked, but she knew she was
crying.

“I can help you clean up.”

She spun around. He was so close the heat
from his body warmed her further, so that the fire was
excruciating. She moved back, clipped a chair with her foot and
stumbled. Tias reached out.

“No.” Her voice was high and shrill, and she
wanted to wince. “Just go.”

“What? I can help you clean up, or go get
Sheriff Mason. He’ll want you to make a report about the break
in.”

A report? She had to clean this up and get
ready to open the store, not face the Sheriff’s uncomfortable
questions. He’d already moved toward the front door. The door
they’d left
unlocked
, leaving their livelihood in jeopardy.
“No. I’m not making a report.”

“The sheriff can find out who did this.”

But she already knew who did this. “I don’t
need your help.”

His eyes softened and she hated the sight of
it. “Frannie.”

She didn’t need his pity. This was
embarrassing enough as it was. “Please, just go.”

“At least let me help clean up.”

“Matthias, just
go
.”

“Fran—”

“GET OUT!”

She grasped the hair on either side of her
head, hard. They didn’t care about her or her life at all. They
went where they pleased, when they pleased, and did whatever they
wanted. Broke in to her store in the middle of the night and
trashed the place like this was their house too and she really was
Cinderella, cleaning up after them all the time.

The front door shut and she was blessedly
alone. Terribly alone.

If only.

Frannie cleaned up the dishes and swept up.
It was almost calming, having to do it, since the work helped bank
the fire. What was she going to say to them? Nothing ever helped.
It was almost not worth the energy it took to yell at them when
they never listened anyway.

Half an hour later Olympia knocked on the
glass front door. Her wide frame was enveloped by a floral dress
that accentuated her Greek features, which she’d passed on to
Matthias. Frannie gave her a small smile and opened the door to
admit Matthias’ mother.

“Hi.”

Olympia didn’t reply, she simply eased into
Frannie’s space and surrounded her with comfort and love. Until
that point, Frannie wouldn’t have admitted that was what she
needed. She stepped back from the hug, sure her warm face was now
pink.

Frannie reached up and tucked the loose
strand of hair behind her ear. “Was there something you—” That was
when she remembered.

Frannie surveyed the tables, looking for any
sign that the cupcakes her mom and sister—and goodness knew who
else—had consumed last night. Blue paper casings and smudges of
blue and red frosting.

Her heart dipped into her stomach. She raced
to the kitchen and hauled open the fridge door.

All gone.

The two dozen cupcakes Frannie had baked for
Olympia’s twin grandsons’ fifth birthdays were all gone.

Rage burned hot in her eyes, blurring her
vision with unshed tears. Her grip on the fridge door handle was so
tight it made her hand spasm in a cramp. She slammed it shut and
turned to Olympia, now standing in the kitchen doorway. Frannie
didn’t know how she was going to break the news. That was probably
why Matthias had come, to pick up the cupcakes before the party
later this morning.

Frannie would close the bakery for the
morning before she disappointed Olympia.

The older woman’s gaze softened.
“Precious.”

Frannie had no idea why Olympia always called
her that. The Greek matron did most of the cooking for community
dinners, so when Frannie provided the desserts they worked side by
side, getting ready. Olympia only ever called her, “Precious.”

Frannie sucked in a breath. “I’ll have them
ready in time. The boys won’t be without cake on their birthday,
I’ll make sure of it.”

“I know you will.” She rubbed her hands
together. “And you’ll stay for the party, too?”

“Oh, I couldn’t.” Mostly just because
Matt—Tias would be there. No. Thinking of him, using his nickname,
she would let it slip and then everyone would think there was
something between them.

“Very well, precious.” But Olympia’s look
didn’t make it seem like she acquiesced. “I’ll see you later, when
you drop off the cupcakes.”

Frannie watched her go, wondering what on
earth was going to happen later.

Coming October 2014