2
Sam Parker waved at her again.
The woman watched him for a long moment, then shrugged and turned for the door.
“First customer and not a tourist. For that you get an extra special treat,” he greeted her before the bell even stopped jangling. Not a local either. He’d only bought the bakery a month ago, but there was something in the way she moved that was different.
A tourist rubber-necked and wandered, and if they were up at this hour of the morning then they’d be wearing their runner’s togs. Seattle folks who didn’t know how to slow down for even one second.
A local would be moving with purpose and direction. This woman had been out strolling at sunrise for the sake of strolling.
“Smells good,” she’d stopped one step inside and sampled the air. Most went straight to the big displa
