Bri smiled calmly at Casey, ignoring the two living, breathing cartoon characters behind her. The sisters might be successful at matchmaking, but they failed miserably in the art of subtlety. She reached for one of the macarons with the dainty tongs she’d convinced Agnes to buy for just that reason. “The usual?”
Casey nodded. “Please.” Now that she was closer, Bri noticed the stress behind the young mom’s brown eyes. Casey fought back a yawn as she riffled through her coin purse. “It’s four twenty-seven with the latte, right?”
Actually, it was five thirty-nine, but . . . “On the house today.” How much real estate could Casey possibly turn around in a town like Story?
Bri felt both Mabel’s approving smile and Agnes’s disapproving glare on her back at the same time. She couldn’t help it. The woman needed coffee, and her kids probably needed new coats this winter. They grew like weeds. Every penny helped.
The bell chimed again. An extra bunch of leaves skittered across the floor, one making its way to Casey’s feet. She looked down slowly, then turned.
Nathan approached in his standard department-issued black polo and utility pants. He offered a quick nod to all the ladies, then did a double take at Mabel and Agnes beaming at him. His easy smile faded into the all-too-familiar deer-in-the-headlights look Bri had witnessed many times from her side of the counter. Poor guy.
The elderly sisters shouted in unison. “Congratulations!”
Nathan blinked twice, one hand frozen in place halfway to his wallet. “Huh?”
Mabel nudged Agnes, who shook her head. Mabel nudged harder, and with a sigh and a resigned roll of her eyes, Agnes pulled a tiny contraption from her pocket and yanked on the top.
Confetti shot across the counter, tangling in Bri’s hair and landing on the sleeve of Casey’s corduroy jacket. It fell a foot short of its intended target, who looked as if he wasn’t sure his cinnamon coffee was worth this madness.
Casey, cheeks flushing, brushed the miniature colored streamers off her arm. Nathan pulled one out of her shoulder-length curls. “Got it.”
“Yeah he does.”
Now it was Agnes’s turn to elbow Mabel into silence.
Mabel cleared her throat, a hearty pink blush working its way across her overly made-up face. “I mean, congratulations! You’re our twenty-fifth customer of the day.”
He wasn’t. More like the sixth, maybe. If he’d actually been the twenty-fifth, then maybe Charles Richmond wouldn’t be sniffing around all the time, half joking about purchasing the place.
Nathan blinked again. “I am?” He shot Bri a glance that begged for interpretation. She hid a grin behind her hand and cleared her throat.
“Which means, you win free coffee.” Agnes shot Mabel a pointed glare, as if to get her sister to the point faster.
“Right! Free coffee.” Mabel’s eyes darted to the display case. “And, uh, and macarons! Which means, obviously, you’ll need help carrying them.”
Nathan took the coffee Bri had already poured for him and gestured to the sack Agnes was preparing with the pastries. “That’s really nice of you ladies. But I can manage one cup and a bag.”
Bri gave him mental props for not punctuating that last statement with the “duh” it deserved.
He reached for his prizewinnings with the air of a man who’d rather be fighting a wildfire. “Thank you.”
Mabel grabbed Agnes’s arm, yanking the bag out of his reach just in time. “No, no, you don’t understand.” Her frantic gaze landed on Casey, who stood there sipping her latte and absently brushing more confetti onto the floor. “I meant, it’s free coffee—for the entire department.”
“Trust me, Nathan.” Agnes handed the sack back over. “You need help.”
Bri snorted, turning it into a cough. Agnes glared, and Mabel ignored them both.
Casey shrugged, finally zoning in on the opportunity. She straightened a little, shifting her coffee cup to her other hand. “I could help you. I don’t mind.”
Nathan’s gaze finally rested on Casey, and he tilted his head, as if seeing her for the first time. “You sure?”
“Of course she’s sure.” Mabel clasped her hands under her chin, which boasted a darker streak than the rest of her face.
Bri didn’t try to hide her smile this time. She should have gotten this on video. The Pastry Puff would have gone viral on YouTube in an hour—which, honestly, would be great for business. And would serve as a reminder to Charles to back off.
A few minutes later, Casey and Nathan strolled out of the bakery together, juggling the multiple cups of coffee and bags of macarons and laughing. At their matchmakers, no doubt, but laughing all the same.
“And that’s how it’s done.” Agnes released a curt nod, the most excitement she ever allowed herself to show.
Mabel, however, sagged across the counter, fanning her flushed cheeks with her wrinkled hand. “Oh, my stars, did you see the way she stared at him in that uniform?”
“I saw the way you did.” Bri grinned and plucked a macaron from the display. They’d already given away a dozen. What was one more on the house?
“It’s your turn next, missy.” Mabel straightened, taking Bri in with her sparkling eyes that always seemed to see more than the average person. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten you.”
“Give it a rest, Mabel.” Bri bit into her macaron, relishing the rich flavors. She’d nailed it that time—maybe it was the extra dash of almond powder she’d sprinkled in at the last minute. Still, it wasn’t the missing secret ingredient to her mom’s recipe that she’d been trying to perfect for years. “You’ve already ruled out the entire fire department, half the police force, the coffee shop barista on Main, and the gas station attendant.”
“Don’t forget the hardware store owner’s son. And Mrs.
