I Will Set Your Valentine On Fire

Chapter Two: After Ten Years

Myra

If there was anything I hated more than sentimental holidays…

It was Anthony Kent.

The whole town called Dorothy Kent “Aunt Dot”, but she actually was Tony’s great aunt. He was two years younger than I was, so we had practically grown up together.

There was a long list of people who had made my life miserable in Mount Tabor, and Tony’s name was right at the top of that list. He was the one person I had really hoped I would NOT encounter while I was back in town.

“You know, Aunt Dot, if the café is still open, maybe it would be best if I just go back to Rutberg…”

“Now, Myra, don't be hard-headed!” Aunt Dot scolded me. “Why pay all that money and commute all that way when there is a perfectly good apartment to use? In fact, I’ll call Tony right now!” She leaned over and grappled with the miscellaneous items on her side table until her slightly arthritic fingers found her smartphone. The fact that my 80-year-old aunt had a very new and very high-tech phone was surprising. What was even more shocking was that she knew how to use it — very well. No matter that she seemed to have misplaced her glasses, she used voice commands and ordered the virtual assistant, “Call Tony!”

“Hello?” I could hear his voice loud and clear. Aunt Dot had the volume turned up so high it was practically on speakerphone. Was she losing her hearing too?

Just the sound of his voice, after all these years, made the hair stand up on my arms. It was deep and smooth. Exactly the kind of voice you would want to narrate a dirty, s.exy audiobook. It sounded like hot fudge melting cool sweet vanilla ice cream.

Which only made him more despicable.

“Tony! It’s Aunt Dot. Listen, Myra is here. She’s going to stay over the café. Give her the spare key.”

There was a long pause on the line before Tony replied, “Okay, Aunt Dot. Just send her to the café. I’ll be here.”

“Good boy!”

“How are you feeling today?”

“Fine, fit as a fiddle! I wish they would quit all the fuss and let me go home already! I’m worried about Gen!”

“Gen’s doing just fine, Aunt Dot. I checked on her this morning.”

Gen was Aunt Dot’s best friend and roommate. They had shared a little house together for more than forty years. I had long suspected that they were more than just “friends”, but everyone in town assumed they were just two old spinsters sharing expenses.

Aunt Dot sighed. “I miss her.”

“I know. I’ll bring her around to see you as soon as I can get away from the bakery for an hour,” Tony promised.

“Good. Now I’m sending Myra over. She’s had a long drive and she’s tired. You take good care of her for me.”

“Okay, I will. You get some rest too, Aunt Dot. And don’t give the nurses a hard time!”

Aunt Dot cut the call and grinned at me. Despite her age, she still had all her own teeth, without a single cavity. “See how easy that was. Now, you go on over to the café.” She settled back into her pillows. “I’ll just finish my nap. It’s amazing how tired I get, doing nothing all day!”

“Okay, Dot, I’ll let you rest. But, about the café, I’m going to need all your books and tax records so I can get it ready to sell.”

Aunt Dot purposely closed her eyes. “I don’t know about that. Ask Tony.”

I sighed and stood up from my chair, and leaned over to kiss her wrinkled cheek. “I love you,” I said sweetly. “You stubborn old thing.”

“Hmph,” she said without opening her eyes. “Takes one to know one.”

I grinned. Her sassy reply did more to put at ease than the blipping monitor beside the bed. I quietly left her room and went out. A cold blast of air slapped me in the face as I exited the building and skated across the icy parking lot. I noticed with some irritation that the nursing home hadn’t taken down their Christmas decorations yet.

I got back in my car and drove back to Main Street, a twisting narrow half-mile stretch through this sorry excuse for a town, crowded with charming historical buildings and storefronts. Mount Tabor had once had a bustling economy, but when they put in the new highway fifty years ago, it bypassed the town.

Maybe that was why the place seemed frozen in time. Most of the businesses on Main Street had been there for decades, just like Dotty’s Place. Seasonal tourists and loyal locals barely kept them afloat year after year.

There was very little parking, but Dotty’s had a small lot behind it that was meant for her employees and the apartment’s tenant. Luckily, I drove a small car, and was able to squeeze in between an oversized pick-up and a trendy hybrid.

I was ready to bet twenty bucks that the big-a.ss truck belonged to Tony. Nothing quite says “toxic masculinity” like a gas-guzzling oversized extended cab with a lift kit. I sat for a long minute, wondering if I should go in through the back door, like an employee, or circle the building to enter from the glass door in front, like a customer? After a minute, I pocketed my keys and went to the back door, already knowing I would find it unlocked.

Nothing smelled as good as Dottie’s. The rich scents of coffee mingled with warm, fresh baked goods. My stomach rumbled, and my mouth watered as I passed the door to the kitchen area, and the dry storage, and entered the café area. A few little tables and booths crowded the floor space. A long glass cabinet in the front displayed all the freshly baked sweets and treats, while the stainless steel barista equipment lined the back counter.

I didn’t see Tony, and the girl behind the counter was busy at the espresso machine, so I quietly slid into a booth.

I wasn’t hiding from my childhood nemesis. I was doing research.

I was an efficiency expert. Companies hired me to streamline their businesses into money-making machines. Eliminate excess, redundancies, find all the leaks. As a private consultant, I was very, very good at my job. My experienced eye was already tracking potential issues with Dottie’s. The way the tables were arranged wasted space and made it awkward for customers to maneuver to the counter. The decor was old and tired. The point-of-sale system was arcane, and the display cases had cracked glass. The one girl behind the counter was too busy making coffees to notice that another customer had come in and seated themselves.

Not to mention there was still a Christmas wreath over the front door, and gold foil tinsel on the counters.

The holidays are over, people! Let it go!

I was so busy scowling at the Happy New Year banner on the back wall, that I didn’t even see the man approach my table until he cleared his throat.

“Hello, Myra.”

There went my arm hairs again.

See, the man makes my skin crawl! I thought irritably. But I schooled my features into a polite, professional smile and turned to greet the man.

“Hello…Tony?”

When I had skeddaddled out of Mount Tabor, Tony Kent was just barely seventeen. He’d been tall and handsome, even if he was a bit on the skinny side.

He was still tall. Maybe even taller. I had to tip my head way back to meet his gaze. But he had filled out his frame in every way. He was broad, muscular, and… well, still sinfully handsome. But instead of a skinny teenager, he now looked like a biker… in a baker’s apron. And he didn’t even bother to fake-smile back at me. He just stared at me with an unreadable expression.

I added poor customer engagement to my list of problems that needed to be addressed before I pitched the business to potential buyers.

He nodded his head, not at me, but toward the girl behind the counter. She gave him a thumbs up and hurried over with a caramel macchiato and a raspberry muffin, and set it in front of me. “Hi! Tony said these were your favorites! I’m Kimmie, by the way!”

I stared down at the coffee and the muffin.

After ten years…

He still remembered how I liked my coffee?