Fingerprinted Hearts

By Amy Spitzfaden

Sisters Fawn and Penny Anderson each have their own reason for loving More Please Bakery. It's the place that helped Fawn heal after earth-shattering betrayal, and an escape from Penny's stalling relationship. But Fawn can't forget her bittersweet history with the bakery's handsome owner, Penny has a growing interest in the delivery boy, and the shop's bank account is getting low.

When Penny lands them a celebrity client, reality TV star Delaney Roosevelt, Fawn dives in headfirst trying to come up with the perfect design. However, pleasing the starlet isn't easy and soon heartbreak and scandal descend on the shop.

As the sisters face their romantic and professional demons they are forced to decide what is worth holding onto, and what they need to let go.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amphibian Press
• Release date: Jun 26, 2018
• ISBN: 9780998333274

Amy Spitzfaden

Amy is a chick-lit and women’s fiction author from Temple, New Hampshire where she lives with her husband, Ravi. She won first prize in the 2013 Writers’ Voices Competition for her debut, Untold. She graduated with a literature and writing degree from Maharishi University of Management in 2012 and works as editor and social media manager at PSCS Consulting when not writing.

Book preview

Chapter One

Bubbles erupted furiously all over the granite countertop. Moisture wrinkled Fawn’s hands, but she continued her assault on her kitchen, half-convinced she could scrub it into oblivion. It was funny, really, how the angrier she got at the house, the more brightly it shone. The stupid, stupid house.

She shoved a handful of hair away from her face and wiped her forehead with her arm. Her breath was coming short now, in bursts of protest at her frenzied activity. Why, her lungs seemed to pant, is this the kitchen’s fault? On a normal day the house was her best friend, and her kitchen was the special thing that kept them close. She lived, cooked, explored, and created in the house in North Quincy that she’d never have been able to afford alone. But then there were days like today. Days when the walls felt like they were going to crash in on her shoulders, and her only defense against it was to try to wash the melancholy away.

Today. Fawn stilled her sponge. There had actually never been a day like today.

She resumed her bubbly siege. The counter was glinting violently, threatening her with what she didn’t want to see. One wrong angle, one stray fragment of light, and her face would appear in its surface. Right now, she must look like an evil queen, all pale skin, dark hair, and angry eyes. Stupid eyes. If only she could scrub those clean.

She had been looking, of course. You don’t find that kind of thing without looking for it. But all the same, she hated to have found it. She had been on her way home from work, smelling like bread and sugar. She’d stopped by the newsstand to buy a paper, almost convinced, at this point, that she really did just want to read the day’s news. But she had flipped past the news, right to the section she feared the most. An offensive approach seemed to her like it could help minimize the shock.

It didn’t.

The newspaper ink had pounced on her, staining her fingertips black with words designed to hurt her. And so the washing had begun.

These were the days that made Fawn miss the aftermath of the divorce. Back when there were pictures to burn, mugs to break, clothes to throw into the street, and love letters to shred. Jamie had liked turning to the ancient art of letter writing. Maybe it was the novelty of seeing words that hadn’t been produced by a computer, or maybe it was plain old narcissism. Whatever it was, he couldn’t resist seeing his own words scrawled across sheets of paper. This was why, in a horrible display of masochism, Fawn had been buying the paper every single day since their divorce was finalized.

She knew there was that one heartbreak left. Jamie wasn’t one for the internet, and neither was Fawn, for that matter, so their divorce had stayed mercifully out of the digital realms. But now here she was, down two years’ worth of newspaper money, reeling from the final blow. She could have bought a subscription. It would have been cheaper. In retrospect, she should have. But who knew it would take this long?

She turned up the volume on her radio, hoping the pop song she’d grown to recognize, but not quite know, would help drown her agitation. It doesn’t matter, she told herself again and again. It was always going to happen. Now it has. That was why she had been looking. As much as this hurt, not knowing would have been so much worse.

The song hit the one part of the chorus that she knew. Fawn paused in her cleaning and joined in on the electronically-enhanced oohs so recklessly that she almost didn’t hear the phone. Sighing, she switched off the radio and made her way over to the wall, one of the only people left in the world who had a landline.

Hello?

Fawnie?

Fawn’s stomach lurched at the sound of her sister’s voice. Please, she prayed, please don’t let Penny have seen.

By herself, Fawn could believe the wound was an old one. She could believe that the two years—three months and six days—that had passed were enough. That it didn’t matter anymore. But Penny knew better.

What’s up? Fawn asked, trying to sound cheerful. That was difficult. She was still out of breath from her kitchen cardio and had never been good at softening what was sharp.

She heard Penny exhale, pause, and then giggle. I have a question for you.

Fawn’s eyes narrowed, her panicked plea momentarily forgotten. Oh?

Okay, well, remember how I bought a car at the beginning of the semester?

Fawn ran her fingertips across her forehead. Beads of sweat leapt onto her hand. Better than ink. I do.      

Well, it turns out that,  thaton top of school stuff, it’s coming to a lot more than I can afford.

College is expensive, said Fawn dryly. Imagine that.

Penny paused, and when Fawn didn’t say anything more, continued. I really need the car. I wouldn’t be able to get anywhere otherwise.

Because driving in Boston makes so much sense. Fawn picked up a stack of magazines from her coffee table and began flipping through them. She was certain  that a couple had articles she hadn’t yet read but couldn’t remember which.

I’m fine in the city, but if I don’t have a car, how am I going to get anywhere else? Like to see you?

An unwilling smile crept onto Fawn’s face. Penny’s sweetness was so political. So, you need money?

No! Penny sounded aghast. Well, yes. But I don’t need you to give me any. Well, I do. But not for free.

What are you talking about? Fawn dumped the pile of magazines into the trash can, enjoying the thud. Andrea Roosevelt—an actress more famous for her myriad of divorces than her work onscreen—smiled wryly up at Fawn from the trash can. You and me both, sister, Fawn thought.

I was wondering if I could have a job at the bakery? Penny’s tone rose steadily in pitch until she was nearly squeaking. Fawn looked at the phone in surprise.

My bakery? Silence.

Fawn took a deep breath, trying to imagine Penny in her workspace. Would she be behind the counter? In the kitchen covered with flour? In the office with the paperwork? The paperwork. Was there room in those numbers for another employee? I’ll have to ask Lenz.

That certainly wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have. Things were strange enough with her boss as they were; she didn’t need to add...

I already did, Penny said hurriedly. He said it’s fine, but I have to check with you.

Of course Penny had gone over Fawn’s head. She had learned long ago to never leave anything important up to the whims of a sister. Again, Fawn found herself smiling. Poor Lenz. He never had a chance.

I guess it’s decided then.

Oddly, Fawn felt a surge of hope. Lenz was willing to take Penny on. Maybe that meant he had seen something in those unforgiving numbers that Fawn hadn’t. For all of the ferocity Fawn had for her job, and for all the love and dedication she had for gathering the frayed edges and weaving them back together, there was something about an owner no employee could surpass. More Please Bakery might be Fawn’s passion, but it was Lenz’s blood.

Thank you! Fawn could almost hear Penny bouncing in excitement, her curls bobbing around her shoulders. I’ll be awesome, I promise. I’ll be the most awesome employee there. Besides you, of course.

Fawn let laughter fill the space between them. Once it quieted, she ventured, Penny, you know, you could move off campus. Save some money. It’s not too long a commute from here.

She kept her tone deliberately casual, trying not to reveal how much she wanted her sister’s fireball energy in her big and drafty house. How she simultaneously felt too young and too old to be living alone. Especially after today.

Dad’s already paying for all that, Penny breezed. I just want enough to be able to go out sometimes. Maybe have a vacation.

Fawn sometimes forgot how much younger her sister was. For Fawn, money was almost like a family member, something she kept close tabs on that alternately made her feel proud and anxious. For Penny, it was an elusive friend, hard to keep in touch with, but always so much fun. A bank balance that sent a worried streak through Fawn’s heart would make Penny’s eyes widen in wonder. Fawn remembered that age. Her view on money hadn’t changed until Jamie.

She stared through the kitchen and out the window behind the sink. She had always wondered why so many kitchens had windows behind the sink. She wondered that even back when she and Jamie were looking to buy. God, that had been ridiculous. It seemed it then, with their shiny new bachelor’s degrees and a giant wedding present check from his uncle; and it seemed it now, five years and one unraveled fantasy later. Was the window placed there to try to make the task of washing dishes more enjoyable, or to rub in the fact that one was stuck over a sink of hot soapy water when he or she could be outside enjoying the day? Fawn herself never had a problem with doing dishes, but Penny did. Fawn would be crazy not to put Penny out front with the people, anyway.

Fine, she sighed. She grabbed a nearby sticky note and scrawled "cashier. But Penny? Don’t be late."

• • •

Penny’s wet hair slapped against her shoulders as she dashed toward the bakery. She was deeply familiar with the frustration of Boston roads, but never before had she been this upset with the sidewalks. She zigged and zagged through clusters of meandering tourists, biting back curse words. Inside, she wished violently that she could shove everyone out of the way.

Well, if this wasn’t just the very limit. She had told Natalie, she had told her what time she needed to be at work, but Natalie hadn’t listened. Penny had done everything she could to ready herself while Natalie monopolized the shower for her usual 45-minute stint, but there was only so much gathering up of keys one could do. Penny only had time to scramble through a three-minute rinse-off, before sprinting out the door with water still clinging to her torso.

Move, she muttered, dodging around a very slow mother and her very slow stroller.

The bakery swung into view. There it stood, compact but important all at once, holding court over its Boston street corner. Penny broke into a full-on sprint and hurtled through the door, nearly colliding with Cindy, the middle-aged woman in charge of the cash register when things were busy and cleaning when it wasn’t. Cindy cheerfully waved hello, and Penny flew past.

How are the kids? Penny gasped as she streaked by.

Good! Cindy called. Fawn’s waiting for you.

Penny burst into the kitchen and skidded to a halt right in front of her scowling sister.

I’m not late! she yelped. I look disgusting, but I am not late! I’m a whole... she paused and looked at the clock, panting. A whole three minutes early. So.

She stopped to catch her breath. The whole kitchen was looking at her, paused in their activities to witness the sudden burst of drama. She smiled and waved at them pleasantly.

Congratulations. Fawn threw Penny an apron. Now get out front and have Cindy show you how to use the register.

Oddly enough, Penny hadn’t spent much time in More Please Bakery before today. She had enjoyed its treats many times, courtesy of Fawn. But she had never felt entirely comfortable visiting,  feeling constantly as though she was interrupting. She looked around the store now, enjoying its quaint New England feel. A little slice of calm in the middle of a major city. Big glass windows overlooking the brick sidewalk that ran by it. A handful of customers were scattered around the tables, making the small room feel full. Cindy, broom in hand, was coaxing a pile of crumbs and pebbles into a dustpan with what Penny thought was too much care.

Um. Fawn wants you to... She jerked her head toward the register. Her hair hit her back, adding to the damp spot in her shirt. She winced, trying not to think of the dry and fluffy hair she’d planned on. There were few things worse than feeling unprepared.

One second, one second. Cindy finished sweeping up the crumbs. She straightened and adjusted the bandana she always wore to keep her light brown hair out of her face. Penny tugged at her own hair, wondering if she should start doing the same.

Now, what did Fawn want? Cindy asked. Ah, for me to teach you to use the register. It isn’t hard. You just have to...

What followed was one of the most chaotic mornings of Penny’s life. Cindy had written out instructions on a post-it note, but Penny kept moving it each time she looked at it, so with each new transaction she had to find it all over again. She was slow, and customers were impatient to get to work. She heard their mutterings and saw more than one duck out of line and leave the store. Trying not to take this personally, she looked down at her task at hand, trying desperately to figure out if what was in front of her was a cruller.

She slammed away at the register, punching in code after code and praying she wasn’t making any mistakes. And then, sometime around the start of her second hour, Penny remembered the code for a blueberry muffin without looking. She beamed at the couple purchasing it and whipped the pastry into a bag with a flourish. Soon, the cash register was whirring beautifully, and Penny was able to chat with the customers as she rang them up.

Are you new? one of the customers—a regular, no doubt—asked.

Yup. Nepotism has its perks, Penny answered cheerfully as she dialed in the code for a bag of croissants.

Oh! You must be Fawn’s sister. We love her. She always sets aside one of these if she knows I’m coming in. You two don’t look anything alike. He peered at Penny as if trying to find the matching genes.

Penny laughed. I know. She’s the pretty one. But what I lack in looks, I more than make up for in cash register enthusiasm.

The customer chuckled and dropped a dollar into her tip jar. Penny beamed after him.

A lull hit, and Penny flopped onto a stool, exhausted. Was this what Fawn put up with every day? By the way the customers reacted, it sounded like it. But she was always in the back, cooking or dealing with paperwork. When did she have time for the customer stuff?

How you doing, Ace? Cindy said brightly. That was an odd nickname. Penny stared at her, trying to figure out what she meant.

Hey, Cindy.

Penny turned and saw that Cindy hadn’t been talking to her. A blond boy was standing in the side doorway, leaning against a trolley stacked with boxes. He looked tired, sweaty, and ready for a paycheck.

He was the first person Penny was able to really focus on since her shift began. Everything else had been blurry and loud, but now the room was quiet. Penny was suddenly aware that it was only the three of them standing here. She tried to think of something to say.

Should I... Penny began uncertainly as Cindy moved past her. She didn’t want Fawn to come out and see her idle, but Penny wasn’t sure what she could do. Everything was still.

Her aching feet kept her on her chair. She took a few deep breaths to clear out the buzzing in her mind that the morning rush had brought, then looked around to see if there was anything to offer Ace, whom she assumed to be the delivery boy, but saw there was less than an inch of coffee left in the pot. She leapt to her feet, wincing as she did so, and replaced the coffee grounds in the machine. The coffee maker gurgled to life, and Penny slid back onto her chair.

It’ll only be a moment, Cindy said. She took a clipboard from Ace’s hand and began filling out the attached paperwork. Penny watched the interaction through a work-induced haze, secretly hoping it would take a long time. The boy laughed—it was a nice laugh—as Cindy said something Penny didn’t understand. Penny smiled at the pair of them, willing them to keep talking. The longer it was before Cindy gave her instructions, the more she could rest.

As she massaged her wrists, she noticed a little leather-bound notebook peeking out of the boy’s back pocket. That was interesting. A record of deliveries or something else? Wouldn’t he keep his notes on his phone? She leaned forward slightly, running through the possibilities. Dear God, she hoped he wasn’t a poet.

Last stop of the day, the boy—Ace? Was that really his name?—told Penny. Penny flushed, hoping he hadn’t noticed her intense stare. He was smiling at her now, his exhausted look lifting a little.

But it’s only ten, Penny said in surprise. She herself had several hours left of her shift.

Behind the clipboard, Cindy chuckled. Penny glanced over at her, affronted. Wasn’t Cindy exhausted too?

Welcome to the working world. Ace ran a hand across his forehead, then glanced down at his watch. She waited for him to say more, maybe chide her on her lack of experience, but he didn’t look her way again.

Something strange was happening. Normally when Penny met a new guy in her general age bracket—and sometimes far outside it—, he paid attention to her. Not in any sort of strange magnetic way that implied Penny possessed more charm or sex appeal than other members of her gender. She was fairly certain she had a solid place in the pretty category, but that wasn’t so uncommon. No, it was just that usually guys paid attention to new girls. Just like girls paid attention to new guys. But Ace wasn’t looking.

Are we good?

It took Penny a moment to realize that Ace was talking to Cindy.

Everything looks great. Now go take a break. Fawn has some cookies for you in the back.

Sweet. The boy grinned then pushed his trolley into the kitchen. He didn’t even glance at Penny.

Cindy switched her attention to the register. So! Let’s count the register.

Penny’s gaze followed Ace out of the room. Cindy chattered beside her, saying things Penny knew she should be listening to. She had already sacrificed brushing her hair to be on time. If she wanted to prove she wasn’t a flake, she’d have to pay attention. So they were counting the register why? Penny tried to refocus.

If you have any questions, just ask, okay? Tuesdays are usually slow, so it shouldn’t be too strenuous.

Wait, Penny said before Cindy could disappear. Could you, um, one more time?

Cindy smiled sympathetically. Having a hard time following?

Penny, conscious of her messy hair and blond delivery boy in the back, said, Yup.

He’s a comedian, Fawn told Penny as she locked the register. Penny had stayed on past the end of her shift, hoping Fawn wouldn’t expect this out of her every day. She timed her questions about Ace carefully, but Fawn still had that infuriating look in her eye.

So that explains the notebook.

Fawn cocked an eyebrow at her sister. Why do you care? Is Kevin getting boring?

Kevin, Penny replied icily, is never boring. Who cares about a dumb comedian anyway? Kevin’s a rockstar.

Kevin, the slightly-too-old-for-Penny singer- bartender, had caused Fawn endless amounts of anxiety back at the beginning of his and Penny’s relationship, but as time passed she seemed to have made her peace. Penny fought the urge to pull out her phone and show Fawn the cute text Kevin had sent earlier that day (he was funny too!) but thought better of admitting she was reading texts at work.

Fawn looked around, murmuring the list of everything she had done, forehead wrinkled as she scanned for more work.

But, like, what kind of comedy? Penny pressed. ‘Cause he didn’t seem very funny to me.

Hm? Fawn grabbed a sheet from the printer and began to review it. Oh. I don’t know.

Are you okay? Penny asked. The thoughts about Ace that had been crowding her head flew away at the look on her sister’s face.

Fawn exhaled and put the sheet down. I think we need to start selling ice cream. Or something. I’ll talk to Lenz about it.

Penny opened her mouth, then bit her lip. She looked around the little shop. She saw the register where she’d spent the days ringing up customers, the tables she and Fawn had just wiped down, and the floor where ace had wheeled his trolley. All she wanted to tell Fawn was how very much she wanted it to stay open.

• • •

Fawn could feel that Penny was on the brink of saying something but didn’t have the energy to ask what. The paper, that awful piece of paper with numbers so weak that Fawn almost heard her job security crumbling, was still sneering up at her. She picked it up, slid it into a folder, and hid it beneath a pile of other things Lenz would have to go through tomorrow morning.

It was his decision to hire Penny, she reminded herself. He had chosen to do that as a business owner. Whatever had influenced his decision wasn’t her problem. But these numbers were.

To hell with it, Fawn thought. I’ll sell my damn house and make up for the lost income myself.

And with that, Fawn gestured to Penny, and the two of them walked out into the cold spring air together. Fawn grinned to herself, envisioning handing Lenz a check so big that neither of them would ever have to worry about their jobs again. Then, at least, Jamie would be good for something. The two reached Penny’s dorm, and Fawn bade her sister goodnight. Then she headed home, head filled with the fantasy of trading in her broken marriage for a lifetime of cupcakes and pastries.

Chapter Two

Penny’s first week at the bakery didn’t so much fly as bowleggedly trot by. She would run out of class the second she could, brush her hair in her car, zoom into the building and grab an apron mere seconds from being late. Fawn was watching her attendance like a hawk, and Penny was determined to show her sister she could handle whatever this job threw her way. But after she had gotten her footing and looked around, she started to notice something even more unsettling.

I’m worried about her. Penny’s heels thudded against Kevin’s cabinets. She was sitting on his counter, taking the stress of her first work week out on her split ends, ripping the strands until they snapped.

Why? Kevin asked, pulling open the refrigerator door. The artificial light pressed against his face, making him look supernatural, almost ghostly.

Snap. Another strand broke under her fingertips.

Just once, just once she wished Kevin would meet her halfway. He knew the situation, knew about Jamie, the bakery, and all the crumbs that filled in the cracks. He was good at offering solutions to problems he himself faced, too good sometimes. So why was it that he could never follow Penny down the paths of worry? Why did she always have to explain?

After Fawn got divorced... She took a breath. Waiting in the bathroom for her was a bottle of her favorite shampoo that Kevin had picked up for her while he was out. He kept it in his shower for the nights they spent together, and so Penny could always leave smelling like herself. Her eyes drifted toward the bathroom door, and she tried again.

You should have seen her. It was bad. And everybody said all these things about loss. They talked about how she was grieving, but grief doesn’t last. And it made sense. But it wasn’t as simple as that. There was more. She spoke slowly, forcing the things that had been building all week, those slimy things she had been hoping she could ignore, into words. She seemed lost. Not in the sense that she didn’t know where she was going, but like... like she wasn’t there anymore. She didn’t like going back here. Losing Fawn  in whatever way she had,had knocked the base out fromPenny’s world. But then she found the bakery. And I liked that she was happy again.

Penny looked over at Kevin to see if he would catch on and tell her he understood. Maybe he’d have the words. Maybe she wouldn’t need them. Kevin closed the refrigerator door.

So, why are you worried?

Penny sighed and slid off the counter. I don’t know. I guess it’s just weird seeing things you imagined up close.

You’re telling me. Kevin tugged open his beer. He took a swig, then held the bottle out to Penny.

Penny shook her head. It wasn’t only Fawn’s face when she looked at the numbers. Of course, that was part of it. She caught the sighs, the frowns, and the groans that came from Fawn every time the budget was brought up. She saw Lenz writing the specials on the chalkboard on the street in bigger letters every day. She’d heard the hesitation in both their voices when she’d asked for a job. But they had given to it her. Whatever was going on was bad, but maybe not dire.

What was really bothering Penny was the way Fawn seemed to shrink a little whenever Lenz was in the room. How she wouldn’t meet his