Welcome to the next chapter of my 31 Days of Writing story! Just as a reminder, this is a very rough draft of totally freewriting with very little editing involved. If I find I like the story and feel it has potential, I will spend much more time on it. I would love, love, love any comments or ideas to make it better or things that don’t make sense, so leave a comment!

Enjoy!

Chapter 2

Afraid

A dim light shone from the kitchen as Erin unlocked the front door and flipped on the overhead light at a few minutes before opening time of 7:30 a.m. Bonnie and Barry had been the husband and wife baker team at Be My Bagel for more than 20 years. They had won acclaim for their bagels from “The Tribune” and even the snooty “Chronicle” along with plenty of foodie websites. They were the dream team of bagel making and Harry was lucky to have them. Now in their late 50s, Bonnie and Barry had an easy rapport with each other and the counter crew, and seemed to love the routine of graveyard baking.

Erin didn’t know how they did it. But she guessed never having kids helped them just make their own schedule. They were willing to try new recipes and loved Harry’s 60s-themed monikers for their creations, having been born in that era themselves. Their personal favorites included Led Bagelin and The Zombagels. The names didn’t really have much to do with how they tasted, but coming up with 60s bands to name them after always made for hilarious staff meetings.

Peeking her head in the warm confines of the kitchen, Erin called a greeting to the team. “Smelling good, as always, guys,” she said as she surveyed the well-organized shelves and counter space of the stainless steel palace. “Keep up the good work!”

Barry and Bonnie looked up in tandem and waved hands covered in flour. “Mornin’, Sweetie!” Bonnie called. “We’re going to try out a new pumpkin spice recipe today, since it’s fall and all that. We’re thinking of calling it ‘The Rolling Bagels.’ Whaddya think?”

Erin laughed and replied, “Sounds perfect to me. I’ll get a display card ready in the case.” As she was walking out the door she called, “Opening in 7 minutes!”

As she moved throughout the spacious shop, turning on lights in the cases and checking various paper supplies, Erin smiled inwardly at the popular décor. People really did come from around the Bay Area and beyond to gaze at the framed photos of 60s greats and autographed albums covers that graced the walls. Harry had an amazing talent for finding treasures in seedy second-hand shops, and sweet talking signatures from the aging greats.

He was particularly proud of the Beach Boys photo featuring himself and Dennis Wilson catching some waves in late ‘67 down in San Onofre. Just before Wilson went a little cockeyed and started hanging out with Charles Manson. Yeah, that happened. Weird.

Erin served the few early morning customers until her counter help, Adrian, came in. As manager, she liked to spend some time serving their guests, but much of her expertise lay in the office where she scheduled the workers, ordered supplies, managed their social media accounts and websites, and generally kept the place running for her Uncle Harry.

As she settled behind the desk in her cozy office, sipping her second cup of coffee for the day, Erin picked up the handset of the retro telephone to check their voicemail for any catering or carry out orders that might have come in late yesterday or overnight. As she went through her prompts to access voicemail, she flipped through the calendar to see if anything had slipped her mind.

Her first voicemail was a small, timid voice asking if they happened to be hiring. The time stamp said 11:30 p.m. Hmm, someone was a night owl. She jotted down the number to give, who was it? Oh yes, Suzy, a call back to let her know they had no positions available at the moment, but if she wanted to come in and fill out an application, she’d be glad to keep it on file. She was old school that way.

The next message caught her full attention. A shaky voice came on. “Erin? Erin, it’s Hazel. I, I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid. I think, I think I know what happened to Bryan and Bernie. Erin? Erin? I don’t think it was an accident.”