“That'll be twelve cents.”
The man nodded.
He gave her fifteen.
Then reached for the bread.
“Thank you.”
He turned toward the door.
“Sir?”
He stopped.
Elena held out the extra coins.
“Your change.”
“Keep it.”
She looked toward the warm cinnamon rolls beside the oven.
Then made a decision.
“Then take this.”
She placed one roll beside the bread.
The man frowned.
“I didn't order that.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Elena studied his weathered face.
“Because you look like a man who hasn't had anything sweet in a very long time.”
One of the customers coughed to hide a laugh.
The stranger looked toward Elena.
For a moment, she thought she'd offended him.
Then the corner of his mouth moved.
Not quite a smile.
Something smaller.
More surprised.
“Thank you, ma'am.”
She smiled.
“Elena.”
He blinked.
“My name is Elena.”
The stranger nodded.
“Gideon.”
He picked up the bread.
Then, after a moment, the cinnamon roll.
And left.
The bell rang behind him.
For several seconds, the bakery remained silent.
Then the older farmer near the window turned toward Elena.
“You ought to be careful giving that man attention.”
She looked up.
“Why?”
The farmer lowered his voice.
“People say he's dangerous.”
Elena glanced toward the door.
“What has he done?”
The man hesitated.
“Well…”
She waited.
He cleared his throat.
“Everybody knows what happened to his brother.”
Elena folded her arms.
“What happened?”
The farmer glanced around.
“Boy disappeared in a blizzard. Gideon was supposed to be watching him.”
Elena frowned.
“How old was the brother?”
“Nineteen.”
“And Gideon?”
“Nearly thirty.”
She considered that.
Then asked, “Did anyone prove he harmed his brother?”
The farmer looked uncomfortable.
“No.”
“Then why are you telling me he's dangerous?”
The man stared.
For several seconds, he couldn't answer.
Elena smiled politely.
“Would you like another cup of coffee?”
He shook his head.
Then looked down.
The conversation ended.
But Elena didn't forget the scarred mountain man.
Or the strange sadness she'd seen in his eyes when she handed him a cinnamon roll.
Three days later, Gideon returned.
This time, the bakery was nearly empty.
Elena was carrying a tray from the kitchen when the bell rang.
She looked up.
And smiled.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hale.”
He stopped.
For a moment, he seemed surprised that she remembered him.
“Afternoon.”
She set the tray down.
“Did you enjoy the rye?”
“Yes, ma'am.”