The jangle of the bells over the door caused Mara to look up from the nail gun she was reassembling. Her eyes widened when she saw Ping standing in the open doorway with a smear of flour on his face and what looked like a dusting of nutmeg or cinnamon across the white shirt that stretched across his belly. Behind him the day had already turned to night, and streetlights were visible across the road. He closed the door and walked up to the counter.
“What a long day. I can’t believe how busy the bakery has gotten all of a sudden. I had assumed that the holidays might mean a slow down because people would be taking time off from work and doing some of their own baking at home.” He leaned against the counter. “Not at all. With company parties and family gatherings, I’m quickly getting booked
