Miracle in Bellaroo Creek

Ed, freshly showered, shaved and changed into clean clothes, chose a small table by a window with a view down Bellaroo Creek’s empty and silent main street. In a far corner, a wood fire burned in a grate, making the room cosy, despite its emptiness.

‘Would you like tea or coffee to begin with?’ Sherry asked.

‘Coffee, thanks.’

‘Oh, you’re American,’ she gushed. ‘Of course you’ll want coffee.’ But instead of leaving to fetch a coffeepot, she stood beaming at him.

Ed realised she was the elusive girl Milla had searched for last night, but he wasn’t inclined to be talkative first thing in the morning, so he made no comment.

‘You’re not a movie star, or anything exciting, are you?’ she asked next.

‘Not the slightest bit exciting,’ he replied dryly. ‘And I’ll have scrambled eggs as well as coffee.’ He didn’t return her smile.

‘With bacon and tomatoes?’

‘That’d be great.’

‘Sausages?’

‘Yes, the lot.’ He’d skipped lunch and dinner and he was ravenous enough to eat an entire rhinoceros. ‘And I’d like toast and orange juice.’

‘Right away, sir. I’ll get Stu straight onto it.’

She was back quite soon with a steaming pot and, to Ed’s relief, the coffee was strong and hot. He considered asking her about Milla’s whereabouts, but opted for discretion.

‘You can leave that pot here,’ he told her.

He was on his second cup when she came back with a laden breakfast plate. His stomach growled gratefully.

‘So you’re a friend of Milla’s?’ she asked coyly, remaining by his table as he tucked into his food.

Ed nodded as he ate, but he had no intention of sharing details of his exact relationship to Milla with this nosy girl.

‘We’re all excited about Milla starting up the bakery,’ the girl said next.

This time he looked up, unable to hide his interest. ‘So the town really wants a bakery?’

‘Of course. It’ll be wonderful. But the problem is, bakeries are so much hard work. Poor Milla will have to work dreadful hours. She’ll be up at something like three in the morning.’ The girl gave a wide-eyed shake of her head. ‘Half the town are right behind her and can’t wait for her shop to open. The other half think she’s crazy trying to do it on her own. They’re betting she’ll last a month at the most.’

Ed accepted this news grimly, but he didn’t encourage further discussion.

‘Mind you, I’m amazed Milla bothered to come back,’ said Sherry. ‘I mean, with her looks, why would she bury herself here?’

Exactly, thought Ed.

By the time he’d finished his breakfast, there were still no other diners, and no sign of the girl who’d served him. He left her a tip and went out into the street, staring across at the bakery and wondering when Milla would show up.

The other half think she’s crazy.

Deep in thought, he crossed the road. The scent of wood smoke lingered in the chilly morning air, reminding him, briefly, of visits to his grandparents’ farm in Michigan, but he turned his focus to the bakery.

Yesterday, he’d paid next to no attention to it. He’d been preoccupied with his original mission to persuade Milla to return to the States, and then he’d been sideswiped by her news about the baby. Now, he thought about her plan to set up a business here. This ex Beverly Hills heiress wanted to get up at three in the morning in the middle of winter to bake bread. Not just once, but every day.

Impossible.

Half the good folk of Bellaroo Creek were right. Milla was crazy. Running a bakery was damn hard work. Intensely physical labour. Certainly too much for a woman of head-turning beauty who was used to the heights of luxury.

This bakery scheme didn’t make any kind of sense. It had to be Milla’s over-the-top reaction to losing Harry and the baby. Ed supposed it was possible that her hormones were out of whack. She certainly wasn’t thinking straight.

That would be his task today, he decided as he stood staring through a dusty window into the murky depths of the empty shop. He had to bring Milla to her senses, had to convince her to withdraw her application before she was committed to something she’d quickly regret.

Almost five years ago, he’d stood by and watched her marry Harry, knowing full well that it could only end in disaster. He wasn’t going to let her walk into a second catastrophe.

He wondered what time she came down for breakfast, but the question had barely formed when he heard a sound coming from the back of the shop.

An intruder?

Frowning, he tested the shop’s door, and it fell open at his touch. He stepped quietly inside.

‘Hello?’ he called. ‘Is anybody there?’

When there was no answer, he moved forward stealthily. ‘Can I help you?’

‘Ed?’

Milla appeared in the doorway.

‘Ah.’ Feeling slightly foolish, he offered her a sheepish smile. ‘Hi.’

Hands on hips, Milla frowned at him. ‘What were you doing? Why are you sneaking around?’

‘I thought there was an intruder in here.’ He shrugged. ‘And I was sure you were still asleep.’

Milla rolled her eyes. ‘I’ve been up since before six.’

‘But you weren’t in the dining room for breakfast.’

‘I had breakfast here.’ She pointed to an electric jug beside the sink in the corner. ‘A tub of yoghurt, a banana and a mug of tea, and I’m set for the day.’

Ed gave a shrugging shake of his head.

‘I hope you slept well,’ she said after a bit.

‘Like a baby.’ He grimaced and a small silence fell while they both studied the bare concrete floor.

He guessed that Milla was as reluctant as he was to mention the obvious fact that she’d found him last night, sprawled on her bed, sound asleep and stark naked.

‘Sorry I missed our dinner date—er—dinner discussion,’ he said, steering the conversation away from that particular danger zone. ‘I hope the duck was good.’