Secrets At Maple Syrup Farm. Rebecca Raisin

There’d be time enough to flip its full pages. I yawned, so tempted to sleep. Without the usual rush of my life, I was as drowsy as a cat in summertime.

      But I had to find a job. I’d dillydallied enough this morning. I could easily end up stranded and penniless here. Mom didn’t have the same fears as me, always believing the universe would provide, that a solution would appear. As much as I loved the universe, real fear of being broke sat heavy on my shoulders.

      With a groan, I pulled myself up and went to wash my face. The cool water refreshed me. The thought of breakfast at the Gingerbread Café was enough to inspire me to get going.

       Chapter Three

      I recognized a booming laugh before I’d even got to front door of the Gingerbread Café. It was quickly followed by a shriek. As I approached the window, CeeCee’s round frame was bent double, hooting as amusement got the better of her.

      Pushing the door open, a jangle of bells announced my arrival. The café was busy. Customers lolled on chairs by the window, or cupped their chins, bent over a table with friends. By the fire an elderly gentleman had fallen asleep, a newspaper crumpled in his lap, his snores punctuating the chatter in the café.

      The scene was completely opposite to the old diner I’d worked in, where men hung their heads over weak cups of coffee, their eyes vacant, as though their lives had passed them by. Night-shift workers, truck drivers, and women dressed in flashy sequins, holes in their stockings, their heels scuffed; they all had that same pall, a kind of defensiveness in their faces, a clenched jaw, stiff posture.

      But here, it was almost like walking into a storybook. There was a relaxed and cozy air about the place, but somehow it made me feel on edge, like I didn’t belong. They’d see straight through me, and know I wasn’t like them. I was a drifter in their midst. They had easy smiles, and ready laughs, and I was so used to being guarded, and careful, so that nothing would be taken from me. No one wanted a sob story where I’d come from. And I was loath to share mine anyway.

      I hung my coat by a rack near the door as my senses were assaulted with the sweetest smells. Chocolate, coffee, and the spiciness of gingerbread baking. It was like I’d been lifted up and transported to a sugary-scented paradise. Music played chirpily overhead, while customers sipped coffee and gossiped.

      I walked to a display cabinet full of chocolate truffles in every shape and size, some dusted with red with some type of glitter, some with delicate gold leaf. My mouth watered while I tried to make up my mind about which I’d choose. Thoughts of saving money dogged me—even though I needed these chocolates like I needed air to breathe. As subtly as I could, I whipped out my cell phone and snapped some pictures to send to Mom. She’d get such a kick out of the artistry on each truffle. If I did land the job at the farm, I’d post Mom a box of the gourmet chocolates home, as a celebratory gift.

      “Well lookie here, it’s Lucy.” CeeCee pulled me into a bear hug so tight she squashed the air from my lungs.

      After she released me from the squishiness of her ample frame, I said, concerned, “You’re working after no sleep?” We’d napped intermittently just before dawn, but not enough that I could make my brain fire on all cylinders if I needed to. CeeCee must’ve had the energy of child, dashing about in the café like she was. I slipped off my gloves, and rubbed my hands together.

      “I’ve had so much coffee I won’t sleep for days. Now what can I get you?” She waved to people walking past, and then focused on me.

      I gestured to the chocolates, nervous as suddenly all eyes in the café landed on me. “How can you choose?”

      She guffawed. “Ain’t no way you can, my sweet cherry blossom. That’s part of our cunning plan to keep folks vistin’ every day! How about you take a seat by the window, and I’ll bring you a gingerbread coffee and a selection o’ my favorites?” She spun me around and nudged me in the right direction.

      “Umm,” I protested feebly as CeeCee trundled off, whistling a song, drawing amused smirks from customers. She’d said breakfast on the house, but even that was too much. I couldn’t take handouts. “Cee…” She was already talking to another customer, so I took refuge at a table, and looked studiously out the window, avoiding the curious glances that came my way.

      A minute later, CeeCee said, “Mind, it’s hot.” She placed a coffee, a plate of bacon and eggs, and a golden box full of truffles on the table. My stomach rumbled in appreciation.

      “This is too much, Cee. You have to tell me what I owe you.” I blushed, wondering how much such a deluxe breakfast would cost, frantically calculating in my mind.

      She waved me away. “It’s your ‘Welcome to Ashford’ meal, so put it out o’ your mind, cherry blossom. It’s just our way round here.”

      I knew CeeCee could see straight through me, and she was only being nice so I could save face. I finally managed, “Thank you, Cee. I really appreciate it.”

      “Anytime, sugar plum. Lil,” she said. “This here’s Lucy, the one I was telling you ‘bout. First time being a passenger with one o’ Jimmy’s near misses!” She shook her head and ruched her skirt up to sit before gesturing to a curvy, blonde-haired girl, who gave me a big wave. Lil was beautiful in that all-American, girl-next-door way. I returned her wave, and smiled.

      “Sometimes I think ol’ Jimmy thinks he’s a race-car driver or some such!” A trio of elderly women at the next table nodded, as if they knew all about Jimmy.

      I grinned at CeeCee, the accident not as scary in the light of day. “He handled it well, but I’m not too keen to repeat the journey, that’s for sure.”

      Lil wandered over and sat with us. “CeeCee was mighty glad you were there when Jimmy lost control. She might pretend to be blasé, but really she was scared witless. Isn’t that right, Cee?”

      “Hush now,” CeeCee said. “Don’t you give away my secrets.” They gave each other a look, like best friends do, one where words aren’t needed to convey a message.

      “What made you decide on sleepy old Ashford?” Lil asked, propping her face in her palms.

      It was almost like a spotlight shone down on me. The girls asked so many questions and I could see people peering at me over the tops of their mugs, inclining their bodies closer to listen. It was nerve-racking but I pulled on a smile and said, “It was as simple as catching the only bus out of town, which happened to be stopping here.” I shrugged.

      What I didn’t say was the crying jag I’d had upon leaving had zonked me so much that I missed most of the journey, lost inside my head, in a lonely haze.

      “Wow, I like your style,” Lil said. “That takes some courage, just getting on any old bus.”

      “I figured it was fate. I’m…escaping for a year and seeing where the wind takes me.” There. I was sure I sounded convincing enough. Maybe they’d think I was just a young girl with no attachments. No sad past, just an amiable soul, crisscrossing the globe.

      “Ain’t that something?” CeeCee said. “Everyone’s gotta have an adventure at least once in their lives. When you’re as old as me, you’ll know. Time flies, quicker than you ever imagine.” She stared into the distance, as if she was thinking of someone else. I followed her gaze to an empty store across the road with an old sign advertising handcrafted furniture.

      She shook her head as if dislodging a thought. “Anyways, you’re going to love it here. I can always tell.” Hefting herself from the table, she gave my shoulder a pat. “You go on an’ eat now, and if you run out o’ truffles you go on and let me know.”

      Lil groaned. “I was hoping for a five-minute sit-down, Cee.” She made a show of pulling herself up from the chair. “She’d work me to the bone quick as look me.” She winked at me.

      CeeCee narrowed her eyes. “Ain’t that the truth? The cakes