Just For The Holidays (Home for the Holidays)

2. Teddy

Chapter 2

Teddy

The Baker

“ O kay GiGi, Come get your breakfast.” Teddy tears leaves from a head of lettuce and lays them on the bowl holding a chopped carrot, whole green beans, and Guinea pig pellets. Setting her food down on a feeding mat, he tosses the container of produce back into the fridge.

The squeaking little fur ball waddles excitedly out of her hidey-hut, across the office floor. Her beady black eyes are hollow while she munches on the delicious bounty.

Teddy leaves the guinea pig to enjoy her chow in peace, latching the aluminum screened gate across the door that keeps her in, and struts through the kitchen, with a towel wrapped around his waist, lugging a plastic bin of personal hygiene toiletries, en route to the small bathroom across the storefront.

After selling Gram's house and all of their belongings, he and GiGi moved into the office. They needed cash to keep the bakery afloat. It was a painful choice, but had to be done.

He’s been working with her ever since he dropped out of college and needed to figure out quickly what he wanted to do with his life. He couldn’t let the business go. It was her everything, and his. Second only to the sweet little cottage on Merritt Lane… Of course. It still stings every time he drives by.

Teddy’s grandfather and his grandfather’s brothers built that little home, with their bare hands, when Gram finally agreed to marry him. She used to say he was a wild boy who needed taming, and she whipped him into a man. He was infatuated with her. The whole town always was.

Gertrude Monroe was famous for her donuts and pies. Teddy got to be the lucky grandchild she shared signature recipes with. He just wishes he had the same magic touch as her because the customers don’t come around like they used to.

His broad chest—sown with saffron fur—fills as he pulls his belly in, posing for the ornate candy-cotton pink mirror above the pedestal sink. Crystal sconces glimmer soft white light over his pale sprinkled skin. He’s gotten used to washing himself in the tiny basin and grabbing showers in the evenings, after his workouts at the gym, but this gets him through the workday. He and Gigi’s new living arrangement, sleeping on a futon in the tiny office, isn’t as rough as he thought it would be.

He wets a comb and scrapes it through his wiry mane, to tame a frazzled mess of bed-head and squeezes minty paste onto a toothbrush.

As he smears his teeth, the front door’s bell chimes, as he smears his teeth.

“Hello?” a voice calls into the bakery.

Teddy freezes, trapped in the tiny washroom, wearing nothing but his freckles and a worn old towel.

Oh, for fuck's sake. He’d left the door unlocked again.

“Hello?” White specks of foam spew at the mirror as he calls out to the intruder.

“Umm, hi. —Is Mrs. Monroe in?” the voice waivers.

Who could this be? Gram died five years ago.

“She’s dead.” Teddy spits.

“What?” They pause… “Oh! —I’m sorry! I totally forgot about that.” Footsteps shuffle across the floor and the bell announces the front door closing, with the stranger inside.

Shit. “Can I help you? —We’re not open for another couple of hours or so.” He licks peppermint paste from the corner of his mouth and shudders as it burns down his throat.

“I was hoping to use your phone. I broke down outside and just needed to get a hold of my family. My cell isn’t working here.”

Teddy cracks the washroom door and peeks out, but there’s no one in sight. Where’d he go? He eases the gap wider and a familiar face pops into view, just inches from his nose.

The long absent but not forgotten intruder’s eyes drop to Teddy’s chest and land on the thin towel.

He slams the door shut again… “Nicholas Anderson?”

Teddy’s elbow smacks the bin of toiletries off the sink’s edge, spilling the collection of plastic containers in a crescendo, hitting the tile floor.

“Yes. —Sorry to bother you.” Nichol pauses, “If I can just use the phone, I’ll get out of your way,” he pleads.

“Umm… Hang on.” Teddy squats, sweeping the bottles and jars back into the bin. His towel breaks loose, and puddles at his feet on the floor. A rush of cold air tackles his naughty bits, floating a shiver up his back, he scurries to reclaim the wrap, securing it higher to conceal his belly.

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure?” Nichol queries.

“Would you turn and face the other direction? —I’m not really decent.”

“I noticed,” he chuckles.

Teddy’s entire body glows red as the LED bulbs in the shop window.

“Should I come back?”

“No, no… Just turn away, so I can go grab my clothes.”

“Sure.”

Teddy cracks the door and peers out to Nichol’s backside, patiently waiting for him to move on with it.