Word Count: 2,875

No one was ever able to guess Arthur's job. Most people would take in the sharp cut of his suits, the slicked back hair, and their minds would jump towards some high paying career, like a lawyer. There had even been one memorable occasion where he had been cornered by a flock of girls who were convinced he was a fashion designer.

It was always the little details that went unnoticed, however. Like the dusting of flour that he hadn't been able to wash off from his cuffs yet. Or that he wasn't checking stocks on his phone, but a new recipe that he wanted to experiment with.

So whenever people caught sight of him entering Penrose Bakery, they imagined that he was just stopping in to grab something to eat before continuing on with his no doubt busy schedule.

They never realized that he actually owned the bakery.

Arthur was just about to finish the piping work on a cake when the door to the back room was thrown open with enough force that it banged against the wall. It was fortunate that his instinctual reaction had been to jerk the pastry bag back or else his hard work would have been ruined. He turned towards the doorway, not surprised in the least to see Ariadne there. "Ariadne, you're suppose to—"

"Enter the kitchen at a reasonable pace," Ariadne cut over him, "unless it's an emergency."

"And is it an emergency?" Arthur asked.

"Well, not exactly," Ariadne said, "but it's still important!"

Arthur set the pastry bag down on the table with a sigh. He was more annoyed by the work being left unfinished than her, though. He had long since grown use to her antics and, though he would never admit it, he was fond of them. "What is it this time?" he said.

"Do you remember that place that set up across the street? The diner?" Ariadne barreled on without waiting for an answer. "Today is its opening day!"

"I know," Arthur said. He had seen the banner announcing as much hung over the storefront when he had gone out to open up shop that morning. He hadn't been able to stare at it for long, though, without his eyes starting to hurt. The words scrawled across the long sheet of paper had been applied with a garish shade of orange. The huge quantity of balloons tied around it hadn't been much better, all being bright colors that turned even more glaring when hit directly by the sun. "Has it been doing well then?"

"Sure has," Ariadne replied. "People have been in and out of there all day. And a good number of them decided to head over here after."

Arthur's brow furrowed monetarily. He didn't think he had heard a rush, but then he had been lost in work for most of the day. "Do you need another set of hands out front?" he asked.

"Nope," Ariadne said, "Tessa's been helping me." Arthur didn't realize he was moving forward until she pointed in his direction with a stern look. "Oh, no you don't. She's been doing perfectly fine. There's no need for you to go all super protective dad."

"She's probably been eating all the samples," Arthur said. His gaze lingered on the hint at the corner of Ariadne's mouth. "And you too apparently."

Ariadne scrubbed furiously at her mouth until it was completely clean. "It's not our fault you make them so tasty!" she said. "Besides, we managed to get more into the box than our mouths. You should be proud."

Arthur shook his head with an amused huff. "Oh, of course." Then the rest of her words caught up with him. "Wait, why are you putting samples into a box? If we have a delivery order then it should be made fresh. I'm not too busy for it."

"It's not a delivery order," Ariadne said. Then she paused for a moment, pursing her lips. "Well, not exactly. I mean, it is being delivered, but it hasn't been called in so we can't really expect the person to pay for it. That's just not being fair."

Arthur raised a single brow. "Right," he said, slowly, "because that makes perfect sense."

Ariadne puffed out her cheeks, looking frustrated, although it was probably more aimed at herself than him. "It's for the people that run the diner," she said, "as a sort of 'welcome to the neighborhood' type of thing."

"You didn't bother doing that with the Indian restaurant that was there before," Arthur pointed out.

Ariadne scrunched up her nose, shivering like something unpleasant had slid down her spine. "That's because it was Nash," she said, "and we were all just waiting for him to leave."

"True," Arthur conceded. "But there's something more to this. I can tell." He knew he had been right when Ariadne's eyes darted away from his.

"It looks like a family bought it," she said. "They're living right above the place, like how we do with the bakery. It looks like it's just a single dad, though." Her gaze shifted back over to him. "With a daughter."

Arthur really should have seen this coming. "I am not going to force my daughter into making friends, Ari," he groaned.

"You won't be forcing her into anything!" Ariadne shot back. "You'll just be giving her the chance to make a real friend. Not those kids that fawn all over her at school because of her grandfather. She's been avoiding them since summer vacation started."

It was an argument that they had had countless times before. The problem hadn't really begun to form until Tessa got older, heading into her older years of junior high. It was then that it became obvious how difficult it was for her to connect with people her own age.

Their family had always been a small one. It had started out with him and Chelsea living with their daughter in the space above the bakery that her father had given them for a wedding present. There had been five blissful years spent turning the bakery into a successful business and watching his family thrive. It was within the second half of that fifth year, however, that Chelsea first showed signs of being sick and he had to explain to his daughter what words like "cancer" and "inoperable" meant.

Chelsea had held out for as long as she could, determined not to go down without a fight, but it was stage four cancer. Eventually, the treatments no longer had any effect and all that was left to do was sit and wait for the worst to happen. And after it did Arthur was left by himself with a five-year-old daughter.

It was then that Ariadne had joined their family. She had been one of the friends he had made in college and had remained close to him ever since. She had been in that long line of mourners at the service, all coming forward to shake his hand and offer condolences. But she had lunged herself into his arms instead, clutching him tight before letting go to scoop Tessa up into her arms. He would never forget how fierce her eyes had looked then, even when they were full of tears.

"I'm coming to live with you," she had said. And that had been that, really.

He had given her a job in the bakery as his assistant, which mostly meant that she handled the communications part of the business when he was too busy too. She had even been able to fill the hole that the lose of her mother had left in Tessa's life. And if some people made the mistake that they were a couple, well, Arthur hadn't been ready to get back into the field at that point anyway.

Arthur had never seen any problem with how close-knit their family was. It meant that he didn't have to be like all the other parents who would complain about how their children were rebelling or hiding things from them. Besides, she had a whole group of students that seemed to be flocking around her whenever he came to pick her up. She seemed to have plenty of friends at school, anyway.

He should have known better, looking back on it, but he hadn't seen it. Not until he had actually asked his daughter after the friends that she never seemed to see out of school. Tessa had just squirmed in her seat before informing her that they weren't really her friends just people she talked to in school.

"They wouldn't even bother with me," she had mumbled "if they didn't know about Grandpa."

And that had been what had done it for Arthur. He was a father and he was determined to be a good one. He was suppose to be there for his daughter, to solve any of the problems that occurred in her life. But this one had left him stumped and he had hated the feeling of not being able to do anything.

"I appreciate what your trying to do," Arthur said, "but I just don't think it's fair to her. You know how awkward she feels around strangers."

"Of course I do," Ariadne said, "that's why I gave her something to break the ice with." She took a deep breath. "Look, Arthur, just give this a chance, okay? The worst that can happen is that she doesn't hit it off with the other girl."

Arthur was about to give voice to all the much worse scenarios that were running through his head when the door to the back room was pushed open again. He knew who it had to be even before his daughter poked her head around the door.

Tessa smiled when her eyes landed on him. "Hey Dad," she said. "Did Ariadne tell you about what we've been doing?"

Ariadne spoke up before Arthur could respond. "Yes, I have. Are you all finished with it then?"

"Yep." Tessa held out a white box that was kept fastened shut by the string tied around it. "I just wanted to check in before I headed off to deliver it."

"Are you really okay with going over there all by yourself?" Arthur asked.

If Tessa was nervous at all then he couldn't detect it in the grin that she flashed him. "I'll be fine, Dad, really," she said. "It's starting to wind down over there and Ariadne said that people seem nice."

"Did she now?" Arthur shot a look at Ariadne who fixed him with her most innocent look. He resisted the urge to scowl at her, turning back towards his daughter instead. "Alright, just…be careful." He didn't doubt that Tessa could sense all the different meanings encased in those two words based on how her face softened for a moment.

"I will, Dad," she promised. "And I'll be back soon." Then she left, the door clicking shut behind her.

Arthur let himself deflate then, turning to face Ariadne, who looked far too smug. He shook his head as he reached out to pick up his pastry bag again. "You better be right about this," he muttered.

Eames took a step back from the grill, rubbing his hands across his apron in attempt to get rid of some of the grease. For the first time that day, he didn't have any orders to make up. The opening day had gone even better than he had expected. The stream of people coming into the diner had seemed never ending. At least not until now when there was finally a lull and he planned on using that time to relax for just a little bit.

So, of course, Yusuf chose that time to appear cut out space in the wall between kitchen and the front area.

Eames let out a sigh when he saw him. "Another order, Yusuf?" he asked. "I thought you told me it was safe to take a break."

"Well, it's not an order," Yusuf said, "so technically I was telling the truth." He jerked his thumb back behind him. "There's someone here to see you."

Eames' eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. "Me?" he echoed. He hadn't even been in the city for a week yet. Who could possibly want to see him?

"Yes, you," Yusuf said. "Although she didn't ask for you by name; just said she wanted to see the person who owned this place." He was shaking his head before Eames could even open his mouth to ask the question. "And, no, she isn't here to complain about the food. It's something much more pleasant than that."

"Is it now?" Interest officially piqued, Eames moved out of the kitchen to join Yusuf behind the counter. "So, what is it then?"

"Um, I'm pretty sure he's talking about me."

Eames turned towards the voice to find himself face to face with a girl on the other side of the counter. She was young, no more than eleven years old at the most, and quite a pretty little thing in a sweet sort of way. His eyes were drawn, however, to the box she was carrying. "Hello," he said, "can I help you?"

The girl offered him a small smile. "Yes," she said, "I'm Tessa Moss. My family owns the bakery across the street."

Eames had noticed the place across the street when they were moving in. It was a pleasant, if pristine, looking white building. The sign that hung over the window had proclaimed it to be Penrose Bakery in elegant red words. "I'm Eames." He reached across the counter to offer his hand out to her. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

If Tessa found it odd that he didn't give a first name she didn't remark on it. Instead she took one hand away from the box in order to shake his hand. She had a surprisingly firm grip for someone who looked so innocent. "Likewise, Mr. Eames," she said.

"May I ask what you've brought with you?" Eames asked as he took his hand back.

"Oh!" Tessa said. "It's for you, actually." She held out the box to him. "It's full of samples from the shop. We weren't sure what you all liked so we filled it with all sorts of things. Consider it a 'welcome to neighborhood' gift."

"Oh, you are a sweetheart," Eames said. He couldn't resist a grin at the faint blush that brought to the girl's cheeks. He swatted Yusuf's hands out of the way before the man could grab the box. "If you want you can sit down and share them with my girl while I fix you both something non-sugary to fill your bellies with. On the house, of course."

When Tessa seemed confused, Yusuf shot her a kindly look. "He's talking about his daughter," he said. "She's about a year older than you." He leaned over to tap the shoulder of a girl sitting nearby on what of the stools at the counter. "Hey, Candace, there's someone you need to meet."

Candace spun around on her stool, her dark curls bouncing across her shoulders. Eames noticed the hint of wariness in her eyes, even if no one else did. His daughter had never been very good with people, preferring to live in her own world most of the time. She was the exact opposite of him in that regard, but he wouldn't have her any other way.

Tessa seemed just as nervous, however. "Hi," she muttered. Then she caught sight of Candace's shirt and her whole demeanor seemed to change. "Is that a Slytherin shirt?"

Candace blinked for a moment before looking down at her shirt. "Um, yeah, it is," she replied.

"That's so cool!" Tessa blurted out. "I'm not really sure what house I'm in. Ariadne says I'm more Hufflepuff, but my dad insists I'm Ravenclaw. So he got me a Ravenclaw shirt for my birthday and she retaliated by knitting me a Hufflepuff scarf for Christmas."

Candace looked back up at the other girl with an awed expression. "You have an actual scarf?" she said. "That's so cool!"

"Really?" Tessa said.

"Definitely," Candace replied firmly.

Tessa lowered her gaze, but now before Eames saw the flush of pleasure there. "My dad actually runs the bakery across the street and I brought over some samples for you guys. Do you want to try some?"

Eames felt a jolt of surprise as he saw that his daughter was actually smiling.

"That sounds great." Candace patted the stool next to her. "We should eat as much as we can before my dad tries to make us eat something healthy." She stuck out her tongue at the last word.

Tessa giggled, plopping down on the stool before setting the box on the counter and starting to undo the string that held it closed.

Yusuf looked over at Eames with raised eyebrows. "I don't think I've ever seen her take that quickly to someone before," he said.

"Neither have I," Eames said. "I think it's a good sign, though." He had been worried that the trip overseas would make it even harder for his daughter to find friends.

He was glad to have been proven wrong.