Here’s your teaser for my 31 Days of Writing challenge!

Chapter 1

Story

Everyone has a story. Erin Harrison just wished hers was more like an epic “Wuthering Heights” or “Gone With the Wind” than the Reader’s Digest Condensed Version of the terrible “List of the Lost.”

In her little corner of the village of Clairmont on the outskirts of Oakland, California, Erin did her best to keep her plotline going. Whether it be at Be My Bagel, the 60s-themed bagel shop she ran for her hippy Uncle Harry, or with her adorably scatter-brained English Lit professor-wannabe boyfriend, Cory, Erin made the most of her days.

And some days were definitely more interesting than others.

Take Tuesday, October 2^nd, for instance.

The early Autumn day started out like many others. Her double-belled pink alarm clock woke her with a heart-shaking clatter and she slammed her hand onto the lever to turn off the blasted clarion. Why could she never remember to order a new alarm clock that might wake her slowly with the sweet sound of twittering birds instead? Well, at least it was effective.

With that surge of adrenalin crashing through her veins, Erin threw off the bright orange comforter that didn’t help calm her brain any with its effervescent sunniness. Stumbling in the pre-dawn darkness to her small bathroom at the end of the hall in her tiny one-bedroom apartment, Erin groaned as she caught sight of her sleep-deprived face.

Darn that Sue Grafton for writing such captivating stories. I gotta get better at putting down her books before midnight.

But mysteries were her downfall.

Erin felt a silky softness caress her bare legs and looked down to find her orange tabby, Einstein, wrapping around her legs.

“Give me a minute, baby. I can’t even see what I’m doing yet.”

Einstein jumped onto the top of the toilet tank, sitting and staring as if to say, politely of course, because he was always polite, “I’ll wait for you, my dear, because I know you’ll never forget about me.”

Several minutes and lots of cold-water splashes later, a few swishes of the brush through her long blond hair, Erin grabbed her black-framed, round glasses from the counter and headed to the bright yellow kitchen to get them both some breakfast.

The sun was just beginning to peak through the high clouds as Erin pulled out the white wrought iron chair that sat at her small kitchen table. Since the window faced west with a stunning view of the San Francisco Bay, she only knew that by the tinges of pink stretching across the sky. These early mornings weren’t her favorite, so she was thankful that she only had to open the shop 2 days a week. Every other day, Uncle Harry did the deed, although he was hours after the bakers in charge of creating the deliciousness arrived to start their bagel-baking process.

With her automatic coffee maker dripping away, Erin poured brown pellets of kitty food into Einstein’s bowl next to the table, and refilled his water bowl. He gave a soft mew of appreciation and set out to satiate his hunger. His mouse hunting in the night must not have yielded him anything. Thankfully. In an over-the-garage apartment in a well-established neighborhood in the hills high above Clairmont, one could never be too sure what creatures would make their way through her doors.

But she was very grateful for the accommodation. After graduating from Berkeley with her business degree, Erin had wanted to stand on her own, not depending on her father for housing. Besides, Gordon Harrison needed his space for the lovely Ellen to visit when she was in town. An economist for the city of San Diego, Ellen had entered Gordon’s life one sunny spring day during an economics conference. As a tenured economics professor at U.C. Berkeley, Gordon was a keynote speaker. Ellen tried to visit at least once a month. Erin adored her and hoped that marriage might be in their future. Her dad had been a widower for far too long.

The scent of Peet’s cinnamon coffee brought her back to attention, so Erin got her favorite “It’s no mystery, I love coffee” mug and filled it three quarters full, adding half and half from the throw-back refrigerator to fill it out. Popping a piece of sourdough bread into her teal toaster, Erin sipped her coffee and mentally check-listed everything she had to do that day.

Yesterday, Harry would have taken care of the order that would be delivered today, so when that came in, she would need to inventory it to make sure it was correct. Bills would be paid, salaries for her five employees would be calculated, and she would need to post an update to the shop’s Instagram and Facebook accounts. Which bagel flavor should she highlight today? Creedence Clearwater Rebagel or Pink Bagel? Seeing that it was early Autumn, maybe the cinnamony goodness of the CCR would be appropriate. She’d see to that first thing.

As she made her way down the hill to Clairmont Village in the early morning mist, Erin tuned the radio in her little VW Beetle to NPR. Sometimes that was the quickest way to catch up on the happenings around the world. A tsunami in Indonesia. Very sad. Politics, turmoil, flu season starting. Is there ever any good news? She didn’t have a very long drive. The winding roads that got her off the hill only took about 15 minutes. Not very much time to cover everything.

As she pulled into the only parking garage in the village, a short 2 block walk to the shop, the last bit of news she caught was about a crime ring in Berkeley. A crime ring? In Berkeley? She thought. Drugs maybe. Or protestors? But a crime ring? Huh.

Without giving it too much of her attention, Erin closed the door of her Bug, locked it with the key, because, you know, crime rings, and headed toward Be My Bagel.