Flash Fiction — Mitzie spends her days working for an arrogant baker and wonders if there’s more to life than just toiling in a bakery. One chilly winter day, the Spice Seller makes his annual visit and inspires Mitzie to change her life for the better.
The spice seller arrived before the holiday season.
Mitzie and Angelina were busy at the counter taking orders when they noticed him through the window. He was standing outside the bakery, staring at them, his wagon run-down and his mule half-starved. People walked by him, looking down disdainfully at his shabby clothes. It had been a harsh winter.
“See, I told you he’d be on time,” Angelina said smugly. She’d been at the bakery longer than Mitzie and liked to show off. “You never listen to me.”
“’Course he would be on time, otherwise Master Arthur would have had our heads for his supper,” Mitzie grumbled back. “Those spices he buys from him are the only reason this bakery is so popular.” It was true; Master Arthur was no great baker but the spices he procured from that seller elevated his goods and made everyone’s taste buds sing.
Angelina huffed and made a face at Mitzie, who ignored her. She was used to her taunts.
The morning rush had just ended, and the inside of the bakery was quiet for the moment. They could hear Master Arthur kneading bread in the back, grunting and throwing down dough like a wrathful demon smiting ruin upon innocents. Angelina took out a mirror and checked her honey-colored hair. Mitzie self-consciously smoothed down her own black curls.
“Go invite him in. I’ll manage the bakery,” Angelina whispered. Mitzie rolled her eyes; she knew the only reason Angelina had offered was because she didn’t want to leave the warmth of the bakery.
Mitzie grabbed her wool shawl from the rack and threw it snugly over her shoulders as she opened the door. The air outside was crisper than apples and as cold as deepest night.
“Hey there, lass,” the spice seller greeted her with a smile. Mitzie nodded and looked worriedly at the mule.
“Is he alright?” she asked. The mule piteously scraped his hoof on the snow and snorted.
“Oh aye, I’ll give him some warm feed at the inn. A night or two of rest will do him some good. You look like you could use some rest too.”
Mitzie blushed. “Come inside and wait for Master Arthur. He’s finishing up some rolls.”
The spice seller nodded and, after hitching his wagon to a nearby tree, he followed Mitzie back into the bakery.
“Do you like working here?”
Mitzie looked back at the spice seller. His eyes were as warm and brown as freshly baked cinnamon rolls and his smile as sweet as icing. He was younger than she had thought too, strands of light brown hair sweeping his unlined forehead.
“I’ve only been here less than a year, but Master Arthur is a…fair baker.” She noticed that she hadn’t answered the question. His smile deepened; he had noticed too.
The bakery was quiet as they went in and Angelina was nowhere to be found. A few customers were impatiently milling about, clutching loaves of bread or pies. Mitzie looked behind the counter and noticed Angelina flirting with Master Arthur in the kitchen.
“Oh, Master Arthur, you do know your way around dough. I always tell my mum that your rolls just melt in my mouth,” Angelina was saying to him, while subtly fluffing out her curls. Master Arthur puffed out his chest and kneaded the dough even harder, his sweaty, dark hair falling into his face. Mitzie pretended to gag and turned back to the spice seller.
“He’ll be just a moment. I’ll scrounge up some oats for your mule.”
The spice seller beamed with gratitude and Mitzie felt her chest tighten. She wondered what his name was, if he liked traveling from town to town, if he was lonely.
Mitzie was lonely.
After reassuring the customers that someone would be with them soon, she went to the cupboard for the oats, and then caught a glimpse of Master Arthur with his arms around Angelina.
“Oh Angelina, you are a wicked lass,” he chuckled throatily. “Not like that dumpy Mitzie.”
Angelina pulled away and pouted. “I still don’t understand why you hired her. She’s so boring!”
Master Arthur nuzzled Angelina’s slender neck. “Someone has to mind the bakery while we enjoy each other back here!”
Angelina hooted wildly.
Mitzie almost spilled the oats; how dare they speak of her like that! She had worked so hard ever since she started there, despite Master Arthur’s arrogance and Angelina’s ineptitude. Lately, she had noticed that Angelina would make trips to the kitchen quite often….
Mitzie brushed a few tears away with her hand. Those two weren’t worth her tears. She looked up and saw they were still entwined around each other. She grabbed her bag, and a couple of pound cakes she had made, and went back to the spice seller. She handed him one and their fingers touched; she was surprised by how warm they were. He smelled so different, sultry and tangy, and made her think of faraway places warmed by the sun.
“On second thought, why don’t we just go to that inn you mentioned earlier and let your mule rest while we get some lunch. I’m Mitzie, what’s your name?”
