Page 2 of Mountain Man’s Mystic Touch

The energy in the bakery settles into a warm, familiar vibe that makes me happy and just a little lonely. I am not jealous of what Ava and Jake have. Still, there is something powerful about being known well enough for another person to recognize exactly when your resistance is real and when you simply need someone to give you a hug.

My phone seems to grow heavier inside my pocket, tugging at me to respond to that message. I remember my visions of mountains, autumn and a man with stubborn energy.

“Why are you glowing?” Jake asks me.

Ava looks over. “Is she?”

“More than usual.”

“That could be the hair.”

“It isn’t the hair,” I say.

“Please don’t encourage her before sunrise.”

I take out my phone and place it on the counter between them. The announcement fills the screen beneath a photograph of a Colorado mountain town draped in autumn leaves. White tents line a broad park. Strings of lights stretch between timber posts, and mountains rise beyond the rooftops.

“Cady Springs,” I say.

Ava reads the notice. “Their autumn festival?”

“They had a vendor cancel.”

Jake looks at me rather than the phone. “And?”

“And there is one booth available.”

Ava takes a drink of coffee. “Are you selling booths now?”

“No.”

“Planning to buy one?”

“You don’t buy the actual booth. You apply for the space.”

Jake leans one forearm on the counter. “What would you sell?”

“Candles. Crystals. Flower essences. Healing oils. I could offer intuitive readings and a few private balancing sessions.”

Ava looks toward the kitchen, where the second batch of muffins waits to be glazed. “When is it?”

“Next weekend.”

Her head turns back slowly. “You want to apply for an out-of-town festival taking place next weekend?”

“I haven’t said I want to.”

“You’ve shown us the announcement.”

“The timing may be meaningful.” I smile and tilt my head.

“The timing is terrible,” Ava quickly adds.

I expected that answer. Sweet Treats is busy on autumn weekends, and I am the only person besides Ava who knows how much syrup belongs in an orange-cinnamon coffee without checking the laminated recipe card. I also know which customers will ask for oat milk after they have already watched me pour regular milk into the cup.

The festival is several hours away. I would need lodging, transportation, tables, display walls, weatherproof containers, and enough inventory to justify the expense. My candles are packaged for online orders and small local markets. The flower essences still need labels. Half the crystals are arranged across my apartment according to energetic purpose rather than efficient transport. Going would be impulsive, expensive, and exhausting.

I reach for my phone. “You’re right.”