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“Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.”
-Leonardo Da Vinci
Kowalski Quality Baked Goods was one of the only bakeries in New York City that remained open on Christmas day. This was chiefly because Jacob did not celebrate Christmas, but New Yorkers were surprisingly in need of last-minute pastries on the holiday, and that meant excellent business. Jacob had a sneaking suspicion they were all forgotten gifts or potluck contributions, though there was no judgement as he rolled up bags of his dough creatures. Each customer was rewarded with a charming smile and an extra cookie for their patronage.
The bakery was packed. It was pleasantly warm, like the subdued heat of a cooling oven, cozy. That baking-on-Hanukkah-with-your-grandmother feeling, if he wanted to get sentimental about it. People milled about the tiny shop exclaiming in fascination and wonder about his creations. “So creative,” they’d gush. “I wonder where he gets the ideas?” They were all bundled up, hauling around children in fuzzy sweaters or bags of other purchases. Jacob people-watched even as he worked the register.
He carefully wrapped four cinnamon buns for a teenager in red and green. “Gee Mr. Kowalski, dontcha want to be home with your family? Especially with this weather.”
Jacob took a moment to follow the kid’s line of sight out of the near-wall length windows. Thick snow was falling fast, dusting cars and people in white flakes like crystallized sugar. The street was nearly covered already, the world all white, with only dots of movement through the storm. He supposed it wasn’t very surprising, considering how wet November had been.
Jacob smiled. “To be honest, I hadn’t really noticed,” he answered genuinely.
The kid’s brown eyes widened in disbelief as they both laughed. “Too busy in here?” Jacob nodded and finished wrapping his purchase.
“Thanks a bunch, Mista Kowalski,” he said as he paid. “Merry Christmas!”
“Happy holidays,” Jacob said a little pointedly, but still with a wide grin and sparkling eyes. The kid nodded and waved, and the little bell on the door jangled pleasantly when he exited. “Next!” the baker called, and his line moved up, chattering, shivering, praising.
A recent hit was a snake-like creature coated in sugar so crystalline it shined. In Jacob’s dreams it had been blue, but he never got the color right in the kitchen, so the white had to do. With the way people were buying it--especially now that he’d fashioned fondant santa hats for them all--it seemed the color was a non-issue. Glancing quickly at the display, he realized he was almost out, and signaled to an employee that he would need coverage at the counter soon so he could make more.
The bell chimed again, and Jacob wondered idly if he had hit capacity yet before looking up. The woman he saw immediately took his breath away, like she did every time, even though he could never figure out why she wanted to know him. Why she smiled like that at him. But smile she did, with bright white teeth and flawless skin, golden curls bouncing over rosy cheeks. She waggled her fingers in a little wave and bit her bottom lip, then tipped her head to tacitly ask for a more private interaction. Jacob watched her step out of the bakery, his pulse racing.
“H-hey Johnny, wouldja take over for a bit? I gotta… gotta see about a girl.”
“Attaboy, boss! Sure thing,” Johnny said with an easy-going smile as he took his place.
Jacob basically sprinted out of the shop and rounded the corner. Queenie, his beautiful, mysterious caller, had situated herself on a stack of empty boxes, sitting primly on the edge of the cardboard stacks. She seemed untouched by the great swaths of snow billowing about. Her long pink coat was unblemished, her hair dry, and hat held not a flake. Jacob shook his head, awestruck.
“Oh, hun, I forgot, you’ll catch cold,” she cooed when she saw him. Jacob was amazed whenever they talked; it was as if she could read his mind. That was helpful, too, since her mere presence usually left him speechless.
“Hiya, Queenie.” He wiped his hands on his apron, just in case. “What are you doing here on Christmas?”
She giggled. “You’re sweet, but Teenie and I are alright. We got some of our own holiday traditions, y’know? Stuff mom and dad taught us before they, y’know.” The small sadness was washed away instantly with another smile and a shrug. She hopped up and put her hands on his shoulders, looking positively overjoyed. Jacob figured his face was pretty stupid looking at the moment and tried to look more composed. It did not work.
Queenie gazed into his eyes and pressed her palm to his cheek. “I know it’s pretty selfish, but I wanted to give myself one last Christmas present.”
Jacob blinked slowly.
“No, not a cake, silly, but I’ll take one if you’re offering.” Her laughter bubbled out like champagne, sparkly. Her other palm rested on his other cheek so that her hands framed his face. And then slowly, almost fearfully--but how could she be, he wondered, how could this daring dame ever be nervous--she pressed her lips to his.
Jacob started, but once his wits were regained, he kissed back tentatively, still in disbelief about this whole relationship. And something in the back of his mind tickled, like a forgotten dream or a childhood memory, fuzzy yet familiar. He tried to hold onto it, but it slipped away like fog. Besides, kissing Queenie was much more important.
He dipped her like a Hollywood starlet and she gasped into another fit of laughter. Jacob was surprised to hear that musical peal colored with tears, so he righted them and rubbed his thumbs over her wet cheeks. Even crying, she was so perfect, like a china doll caught in the rain.
“Aw, I thought I was a better kisser than that,” Jacob teased, and she gave a watery giggle.
“Oh you are!” she insisted, and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief that Jacob could have sworn appeared out of thin air. They made eye contact briefly until she turned away, flushing as pink as her pink beret. “It’s just that we’ve… I just ain’t allowed…” She stared at the side of the bakery.
Jacob’s heart swelled with adoration and pity. Whatever had shook this gal up, he wanted to make it better, and he wouldn’t push her into anything. That’s how his Grandma has raised him. So he extended his hand, and she smiled almost knowingly.
“How ‘bout that cake? I got a rose one that reminds me of you,” he prompted.
Queenie beamed as she sniffed away the last of her tears. “I’d like that,” she answered.
“Yeah, me too,” Jacob said. They walked into the bakery arm-in-arm, and Jacob Kowalski thought he just might be the luckiest man in the world.
Beside him, he almost thought he heard Queenie whisper, “ Oh, you slay me. ”