By nine AM, the sun had broken through the morning fog, lighting up 4th Street in a crisp, bright yellow glare.
The street fair was packed. Hundreds of people were strolling down the brick pedestrian zone, bundled in thick coats, holding paper cups of hot cider, and browsing the vendor stalls.
The bakery booth was doing insane business.
Sarah was behind the table, frantically bagging croissants and taking cash, while Maya handled the hot coffee dispenser and gave out samples of cinnamon rolls.
Ethan was sitting on a folding stool near the back of the booth, supposed to be supervising the backup inventory crates, but mostly just watching the crowd. His arms were sore from the morning setup, but the atmosphere was lively and noisy enough to keep him awake.
Around eleven o'clock, the crowd parted slightly, and Julian walked up to the booth.
He was wearing an expensive dark blue wool coat, a grey silk scarf wrapped neatly around his neck, and holding a small paper cup from a high-end coffee shop three streets over.
"Morning, ladies," Julian said smoothly, stepping up to the counter. "Looks like a very successful morning for the bakery."
Sarah smiled politely. "Thanks, Julian! We're almost sold out of the savory scones already."
Julian glanced up at the white canopy roof, noticing the thick black zip ties and the gray PVC pipe holding the central frame together. He let out a small, quiet laugh.
"Interesting structural engineering on the tent," Julian remarked, looking directly at Ethan sitting in the back. "A bit... rustic, isn't it? Hope the festival inspector doesn't mind temporary hardware repairs."
Maya stopped filling a coffee cup, setting the plastic lid down on the table with a firm thud.
"The inspector was here at seven-thirty, Julian," Maya said, her voice completely devoid of warmth. "He said it was the sturdiest frame on the block."
Julian’s smile didn't slip, but he shifted his coffee cup to his other hand. "Of course. Function over form, right? Very on-brand for Ethan."
Ethan didn't get up from his stool. He just leaned back, resting his hands on his knees, looking Julian dead in the eye. "It holds up the roof, Julian. That's what a tent is supposed to do."
"Naturally," Julian said, turning his attention back to Maya. "Anyway, Maya, I came by because our store is hosting a small post-festival drink gathering at the lounge down on 2nd Street tonight. Starts around eight. Thought you might want to join. A few local business owners will be there."
Maya picked up a paper bag, slid two cinnamon rolls inside, and folded the top edge down with two sharp, precise creases.
"Can't," Maya said flatly.
Julian blinked. "Busy again?"
"Yeah," Maya said, looking him straight in the face without a hint of hesitation. "Ethan and I are hauling the tables back to the storage room tonight, and then we're getting dinner."
Ethan’s heart gave a sudden, unexpected jump inside his chest. He hadn't discussed any dinner plans with Maya for tonight—they’d only talked about breaking down the booth.
Julian looked from Maya to Ethan, his eyes narrowing slightly as he registered the answer. The fake corporate friendliness on his face tightened into something considerably colder.
"I see," Julian said, his voice dropping its warm tone entirely. "Well... enjoy your moving work, then."
He turned on his heel and walked away into the crowded street, his expensive coat swaying with his quick, sharp steps.
Sarah looked at Maya with her mouth slightly open. "Wait... are you guys actually getting dinner tonight?"
Maya didn't answer immediately. She set the bagged cinnamon rolls on the counter, turned around, and looked at Ethan sitting on his folding stool.
"We are if you're buying, grease monkey," Maya said, a tiny, crooked smile appearing on her face.
Ethan looked at her dark eyes, the cold wind blowing a few strands of hair across her cheeks, and felt his throat go slightly dry.
"Yeah," Ethan said, standing up from his stool. "I'm buying."
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