Chapter 5: The Plain Scone

Pell Street Bakery opened at six, and by seven the line was out the door.

Matilda worked the counter with her sleeves pushed up and her hair pinned tight.

Dot worked the ovens and watched her through the pass-through window.

"You're humming," Dot said.

"I am not."

"It's the song from the dare. The spaghetti one."

Matilda stopped humming.

Half the line had seen the video by now. She could tell by the way they spoke to her, softly, with their heads tilted.

A man in a fleece vest said, "We're all on your side, hon," and left a ten-dollar tip for a two-dollar coffee.

At half past seven the bell over the door rang, and Eli came in.

He was wearing a grey wool coat, and he stood at the back of the line like anybody else.

When he reached the counter he did not look at the pastry case.

"One plain scone," he said. "And a black coffee."

Matilda took the scone from the tray without thinking and put it in a bag.

Dot's face appeared in the pass-through window.

"Nobody orders the plain," Dot said, to the room in general. "We make eight a day so the cranberry ones don't feel lonely."

"I like it," Eli said.

"Then you're the first."

He paid in cash and stepped aside to wait for the coffee.

Matilda handed it across and said, low, "Cora told me to ask you something."

"Ask."

"Why weren't you surprised, on the step?"

Eli held the cup in both hands.

"Because I'd read the studio loan papers in August," he said.

"That's all?"

"I'd also listened to her in my own kitchen. By the party there wasn't any surprise left."

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