Free The Sweetest Thing by Christina Mandelski Page B

for a random birthday card.
    Twelve years old? How is that possible? I wish I could be there, but we are in Brazil. I’ll send you something South American. I bet you are planning a big party with all of your friends. Have fun, sweetheart. Sorry I’m so far away.
    God, I miss her. But I realize that I have to figure out what to say before I call her for again. We have a lot of catch-ing up to do; I’m just not sure where to start.
    It’s four thirty and since I can’t sleep, I decide to head to the bakery. I grab my coat, lock the back door, and run toward the alley. It’s still dark and freezing cold, but the piled-up snow is reflecting the moon like a nightlight. I push on the bakery door, find it open, and slip into the warmth of the kitchen.
    “Hey, sugar. What you doin’ up?” Nanny keeps a baker’s hours and will be napping by noon. But right now she’s standing in front of a tray full of diamond-shaped brownies, giving each one a generous coat of chocolate fudge frosting.
    She stands up and stretches as I grab an apron.
    “Well, you look happier than a clam at high tide. What’s going on with you, darlin’?”
    I shrug but the grin on my face is huge. “Nothin’.”
    She laughs. “Seem pretty smiley about nothin’.”
    Mr. Roz walks in from the front of the store.
    “Hey, Mr. Roz!” I say, as he slides a tray of donuts out of 85

    a rack. He looks surprised, and I know why—usually I am a total grump this early in the morning.
    “Hello, Sheridan!” he beams. “And Happy Easter to you!”
    “Bunny left you a little something. . . .” Nanny nods toward the back counter. I turn and see an Easter basket stuffed with candy: jelly beans, marshmallow chicks, and even one of those cheesy hollow chocolate bunnies with Day-Glo sugar eyeballs.
    “Nan. Don’t you think that I’m a little old for an Easter basket?” I pop a red jelly bean in my mouth.
    “Fine,” she says. “Doc says I should watch my sugar, but I’ll go ahead and take it off your hands.”
    “No, no, that’s okay.” I laugh. “I wouldn’t want to give you diabetes or anything.”
    “Oh, what a sweetheart—always thinking of your old Nanny.”
    I add a yellow jelly bean to the red one.
    “Always.”
    She chuckles from deep down. Gosh, I love her. I want so badly to tell her that I’ve found Mom. I think she’ll be happy; she knows how much I miss her.
    But there’s a knock on the back door. “Who’s that?” I wonder out loud.
    Nanny walks over, wipes her hands on her apron, and lets in a rush of frigid air. I see Growly’s bald head sticking up above hers. Great.
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    “Mornin’, Father Crowley.” Nanny smiles and gives him a hug. Even though Nanny left the Catholic Church when my grandfather died, she stayed close with Growly, who didn’t mind that she went back to her roots at First Baptist of Grand Rapids.
    This might make him sound like a nice guy. But he’s not. I watch him, suspicious. Maybe he’s come to try and save my hopeless soul. I don’t have time for that this morning.
    “How are you doing this fine Easter Day, Lilian?” he says to Nanny.
    “Fine as frog hair; finer, maybe.”
    He looks at me, his lips drawn across his face in a straight line. “Miss Wells.” He nods. “You are a hard worker. Not many individuals your age would be willing to sacrifice so much time for a family business.”
    “Thank you.” I think that was a compliment. But I feel my good mood spoiling. Why is he here?
    “She has a servant’s heart,” Nanny says. “That, and I pay well.” They laugh.
    Roz walks into the kitchen. “Father!” He gives Growly a hearty two-handed handshake and disappears up front again. In another minute, he returns with a cup of coffee and a slice of Michigan cherry strudel.
    “Ah.” Growly grins and takes the strudel, then sits on a stool. “One of the perks.”
    Nanny waves me over and hands me a bag filled with 87

    buttercream. “Let’s top them with flowers,” she says,