Chapter Text
“Merci, have a lovely evening.”
The blonde woman smiled brightly in response and hummed a quick thank you before grabbing her order and making her way to the door. Technically, it was way past closing time but Alex never minded staying a bit later if the person was nice enough. He leaned over the counter, resting his chin in his hand as he watched the woman leave with a small smile.
Once she disappeared behind the corner, Alex made his way over to the front door to flip over the open sign, sighing as he turned back to the store. Like every other Saturday, he had a lot of cleaning up to do but regardless of how tired he was, Alex could never find it in him to feel annoyed. This was his little paradise after all.
There was no way he could feel unhappy here.
Madeleine Mercer had to have been the prettiest woman in the world.
Alex may have been a little biased—she was his maman after all— but he was sure most people would agree with him if they saw the way she moved around the kitchen. Effortless, like a butterfly fluttering through the air.
Her golden hair seemed to sparkle in the beams of sunlight pouring in through the small window and illuminating the kitchen with a warm light. If you were to grab the nearest storybook and flip it open, this picture would be right there in the center. She was wearing one of Alex’s favorite dresses under her frilly apron which was pristine as always. As messy as the kitchen would often get, Madeleine never had a spot on her which only strengthened Alex’s conviction that his maman must have been magical.
He watched with fascination as his mother danced around the kitchen. A bit of flour here and a splash of milk over there, the ingredients seemed to be floating around her as she worked through her well-rehearsed routine with a fond smile lighting up her face. The same smile she gave Alex when he once again started making noise from his seat at the table.
“Maman , I wanna help,” he whined, giving his mother the best puppy eyes he could muster. Madeleine rolled her eyes fondly but much to Alex’s surprise, she grabbed the bowl holding all the ingredients, and set it in front of Alex, along with her spatula. The little boy instantly lit up, making grabby hands towards the spatula, which made his mother chuckle. She leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead before giving Alex his instructions.
“Bien, mon amour . I need you to mix all of this for me while I work, alright? But you have to do it very slowly and carefully, can you do that for me?” Madeleine’s voice was soft and warm as she spoke, stroking her slim fingers through Alex’s blond hair. The boy nodded enthusiastically, determined to make his mamma proud.
Alex was rarely allowed to help with his mother’s baking. Even now that he was six years old, every time Madeleine put on her favourite apron and set off to whip up another one of her delicious miracles, Alex was instructed to just watch and learn.
“Not yet, Lexi. Wait for the right time,” she would respond whenever Alex asked, and while it made him a little sad, his mom would always make up for it with her loving smiles and the occasional cookie.
It’s what made those times she did assign Alex with a task all that more special. Every once in a while, Madeleine would seemingly break her own rules and let Alex help with very small things and he cherished every single one of those moments. Whether it was mixing up batter or lining a tray with parchment paper, Alex took his little jobs extremely seriously, making sure he did everything just right, which always made his mother smile.
Alex was still attentively mixing the slowly-forming batter when Madeleine returned to the table, so focused on his task his tongue was peaking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. Once the batter was mixed up to perfection, Madeleine rewarded her son with a kiss to his temple before taking the bowl away from him. Alex plopped himself back down on his chair and pulled his knees up to his chin as he watched his mother work her magic, happy to have helped.
After sweeping the floors and sorting out the kitchen as well as the tiny sitting area by the window in the front of the store, Alex made his way back behind the counter to clear out the remaining pastries, rolls, and quiches from their displays. Most of them ended up in a box that Alex would later drop off at his local community center on his way home, but he made sure to pick out a couple of pieces for his sweet elderly neighbor and his two best friends, who would probably kill him if he didn’t bring them some leftovers, even if they spent most of their lunch breaks at the bakery.
Once the pastries were packed up and the money in the register counted, Alex turned to go grab his stuff from the back but stopped for a second, eyes lingering on the framed piece of paper hanging on the wall right behind the counter—arguably the most valuable piece of décor in the store.
Alex smiled softly as he ran his fingers over the edges of the frame protecting the hand-written note from damage. He had to admit he was rather proud of himself for keeping the paper in such pristine condition. There was not a single spot on it.
Alex wasn’t sure what his mother meant by the right time and while he had a guess, he unfortunately never got a confirmation. Years passed and Alex grew more and more interested in the magic his mother performed in their little kitchen, though most days he was still not allowed to help.
Not yet, Lexi. Wait for the right time.
He was sure his mother had a plan, a reason for why she always shooed Alex away when he as much as reached for a utensil, and he was sure she was going to explain everything one day but life ultimately made that decision for her sooner than expected.
In the months leading up to his eleventh birthday, Alex noticed his mother grew weaker. She was still just as beautiful as ever, but her skin was paler than usual and her eyes didn’t sparkle the way they used to, though they remained kind. She still wore her pretty dresses and her favorite spotless apron over them most days, except Alex no longer had to ask if he could help his mother bake. There were things she just couldn’t do suddenly due to her fatigue, but baking was Madeleine Mercer’s everything and she wouldn’t give it up no matter what.
Still, Alex could always see the sadness in her eyes whenever he had to roll out the pastry for her or take over the project all together because she was too tired to continue.
He wanted to ask why, but always bit his tongue.
His mother clearly wanted things to go differently, but they couldn’t change fate. It didn’t take long before his little sister, Amélie, also started joining them in the kitchen, though she was usually there just to help with the cleaning or to distract Madeleine while Alex finished up the last batch of cannelés or macarons .
There were days when Alex doubted himself, worrying about whether helping his mother bake was actually helping her at all, but Madeleine always made sure to pull him into her arms after every baking session, press a kiss to the top of his head, and whisper loving words into his ear.
“Merci, mon amour . My wonderful little pâtissier , you are doing so good. I can’t wait for your birthday, I have a huge surprise planned for you,” Madeleine whispered one evening, smiling brightly at the boy in her arms, who planted a quick kiss on her cheek before burying his face in the crook of her neck again, desperate to hide from reality.
Sadly, life has a very strange, twisted sense of humor and Alex got the first taste of it the moment he woke up on the day of his birthday. Unlike Alex, his father, and Amélie, Madeleine Mercer remained asleep, never to wake up again.
Alex was certain that was not the surprise his mother had been planning, though he didn’t get a chance to dwell on it too much because everything was moving too fast and suddenly, he was standing at the cemetery dressed in all black, holding his sister’s hand as they watched a black casket slowly sink into the ground.
There were no pastries served at the reception.
Afterward, Alex would avoid the kitchen like the plague. The room suddenly felt too small, too cramped, too suffocating. The curtains remained drawn most days, so the sun was no longer shining in through the window and his mother was no longer dancing around the space to liven it up. The oven had not been turned on in months and the mere thought of baking made Alex’s heart ache. Besides, he couldn’t imagine ever trying to make anything without his mother by his side to guide him.
All that changed a year later.
It really was a cruel twist of fate, to let his maman die on his birthday, and Alex still wasn’t sure how to feel as he made his way back home from school. His train of thought was interrupted as soon as he walked in, though, by the faintest sound of his sister’s sobs coming from the living room. Without skipping a beat, Alex immediately made his way over to Amélie and wrapped her up in his arms. He didn’t need to ask what was wrong and Amélie didn’t need to explain. They both knew.
“Do you… d’you remember how maman would always bake us gougères whenever we were feeling sad?” Amélie sniffled after a moment, cuddling up closer to her brother who tightened his arms around her in response.
Alex nodded wordlessly as that familiar pain in his chest made itself known.
Amélie eventually lifted her head to look up at him, her bright blue eyes red and puffy from crying. She chewed on her lip nervously before finally asking: “C-could you make them for us, Lexi?”
Alex wanted to say no. In fact, he wanted to scream. His heart was breaking into a million pieces all over again and Alex wanted nothing more than to just lock himself in his room and hide from the world, the pain . But Alex was never good at running, and seeing his sister’s desperate eyes—the same shade of blue like the ones he knew he’d never see again—he couldn’t bring himself to say no. Not when he knew they were both feeling the same exact pain in their hearts.
That’s how Alex found himself standing in the middle of their small kitchen, wearing Madeleine’s frilly, spotless apron that was way too big for him. It was the only one he could find, and it made Amélie chuckle when he put it on, so he decided there was no turning back.
After a few minutes of searching, he emerged from one of the cabinets with a triumphant a-ha! and held up his mother’s old recipe book for Amélie to see. As he flipped the book open, determined to find the gougères recipe as quickly as possible, a small piece of paper flew out from between the pages and gracefully floated down onto the floor. Both siblings stared at it in confusion before Alex leaned down to pick it up, only to drop it again moments later upon reading the short note written on it.
A note in his mother’s perfect, elegant handwriting.
It’s time, mon amour.
♡
Amélie ducked down to pick up the note and read it herself and Alex used those couple of seconds to let those couple of words sink in. Once Amélie read the note, she set it onto the table carefully and simply offered Alex a supportive smile, which he hesitantly returned before going back to flipping through the book.
Neither of them said a word.
An hour later, Alex was setting the still burning hot tray of golden gougères onto the window sill to cool down. The sun came up from behind the clouds and its beams found their way through the open window into the small Mercer kitchen. Rays of sunshine filled the room, painting the space in the warmest shades of golden yellow and tangerine red. The scent of freshly baked pastries lingered in the air and in that moment, Alex knew that this was the thing he wanted to do for the rest of his life.
Carry on his mother’s legacy, and make her proud.