Joe's home was in one of the few areas of Canterlot that I knew well; Canterlot Heights. I tried not to let on my surprise, but the donut king of Equestria picked up on it.
"I own a chain of successful donut shops across Equestria." He reminded me. With other ponies, I'd say they were bragging or trying to impress me. Donut Joe merely stated it as a fact.
While not as large as other Heights mansions, Joe's home had plenty of room. His front yard seemed more like a small orchard. The house was old red-brick and two storied. I estimated at least five bedrooms as well as plenty of spacious rooms downstairs.
As we exited the carriage, Joe tipped the driver and sent him off. Turning back to me, Joe noticed my staring. "What?"
"How do you not have your own driver?" I asked.
Joe shrugged. "I know the pony who runs a carriage business. He helps me get around for a good price, I send him a few dozen to keep his drivers happy. Now let me show you the place."
He opened the door magically and I was given a visual feast. The foyer and living room were decorated in beautiful dark-colored antique wood and furnishings. It had a clean and warm feeling; it was the kind of place you'd call home almost instinctively. The dining room was a touch brighter, but no less comfortable. Everything was taken care of to the smallest detail.
The kitchen, on the other hoof, seemed like a transplant from the bakery. A massive brick oven took up a sizable corner. Stainless steel, polished to a mirror shine, glimmered under the light. Racks on wheels stood ready to hold dozens of baked goods and the double-door refrigerator looked like the top of the line. From a nearby coat rack, Joe handed me a black cloth.
"What's this?" I asked.
"An apron." Joe replied as he put on one of his own. "If it weren't such a tradition, I'd use black in my shops. Doesn't show stains or burns as easily as white. Luckily, I know a guy who runs a laundry business and we have a good arrangement going?"
I slipped the article over my head and tied it off. Looking down, I saw words written on it in red thread. Taking a moment to mentally turn the letters around, I felt my face get warm. "'Kiss the Chef'?"
"Maybe next time." Joe quipped. "For now, we're going to have some fun."
"You didn't bring me all the way out here just to bake?" I asked, confused.
"'Just to bake'?" I cringed as he pointed out my words. He laughed. I'd thought I'd offended him, but I should've known it wasn't that easy. "No. We'll be creating edible joy. Happiness baked up nice and fluffy. Most ponies call them Cinnamon Rolls."
"I'll never touch another cinnamon roll in my life." I moaned from Joe's couch. I'd retreated to the living room with a stomach full of the devilishly delicious buns. For once, I didn't even care about the icing on my muzzle; I just licked my lips absently.
"You didn't have to eat so many. I didn't know a pony could handle three, let alone an entire dozen." He laughed.
"It was better than I expected." I admitted.
"You're the one who made them!" Joe reminded me.
"That's my point." I replied. My tone lacked a certain dark quality this time around. I guess I was too full of 'baked joy.'
Joe sighed and smiled. Leaning against his arm-chair, he regarded me. "We'll make a baker out of you yet."
“Or just make me fat.” I pointed out, tapping my barrel.
“Never trust a skinny baker,” Joe said in mock severity. “Although I have a gym membership to keep me from having to roll instead of walk. Got a good deal on it too.”
I snorted. “Let me guess, you know a guy?”
“How’d you know?”
During the day, Joe and I went to work together. Luna had given me some time off of Court to get my wits about me. So instead of going to Court, we stopped by the orphanage a few times, and even played a few games with the foals. I was almost getting used to the name Blueby. Cross finally figured out who I really was, but assured me he would keep it secret.
Of course, that didn’t stop some of the kids from mentioning it and it got minor coverage in some tabloid and gossip pages. My service arrangement with Joe was mostly ignored because Joe refused service to any reporter who asked to talk with me. Fearing lifetime donut bans, the smart ones went in search of other stories. The dumb ones made up wildly inaccurate reports that were treated as gossiping wild rumors.
At night, I woke up drenched in sweat, my heart still racing from the memory of the nightmare. Finally, one night I hitthe headboard with one hoof, cursing softly. Rolling out of bed, I shook myself and headed for the kitchen. After a few days here I'd practically had the kitchen memorized. Unfortunately, I forgot about the rack of baking pans and managed to dislodge a cast iron skillet. It hit the floor with an awful clatter before I could even think to catch it magically.
Bending over, I picked up the pan and replaced it. A voice behind me piped up. "Wake the dead, why don't you?"
I jumped, hastily grabbed at the skillet to defend myself. Instead I succeeded in knocking it towards the floor again. Joe caught it before it could make a second impact. I let out the breath I'd drawn in and resisted the urge to take the skillet and hit him with it. "You scared me!"
"And you have gotten up in the middle of the night every night so far." Joe retorted. "Are you okay?"
I frowned, shaking my head. "I'm fine. I just needed a glass of water."
"Every night?" Joe repeated.
"Yes." I said, ears pinning back with how foalish I sounded.
Joe sighed. "Okay, I could see how you'd get a sore throat from screaming."
"I didn't scream!" I yelled defensively. Joe responded only by raising his eyebrows. "Just now doesn't count."
"What are the nightmares about?" Joe asked bluntly.
"What's it to you?" I replied snobbishly. "And who said anything about nightmares?"
"If you really won't talk about it, fine." Joe relented, turning around. He disappeared into the darkness of the living room. The silence closed in around me and it wasn't long before the nightmare flashed in my mind.
"Joe?" I called out, stepping forward to run after him. Instead, I bumped into him. Apparently, he hadn't gone far. "Oh, haha. Were you spying on me?"
"No, of course not. I was just looking at my bookshelf." He replied, a little too earnestly.
"In the dark?" I asked, disbelievingly.
"You called me back." He said, changing the subject.
"I-I'm not in a good place right now. Can we talk about it...like...friends?" I turned my head away, ready for him to object to being friends.
"Absolutely. You want some leftover cinnamon rolls while we do?" He asked.
I nodded. "Only if they have that icing."
Joe shook his head. "Sweet tooth."
Telling Joe about my most recent disgrace brought out a lot of the strong emotions I'd worked to push down. To his credit, he listened and even seemed to sympathize. By the end, I'd leaned my head into his chest and took some deep breaths while he rubbed my back.
"Princess Luna. If there is anypony who can help you, it would be her." He stated simply.
"How can you say that?" I asked, my anger rising feebly.
"To put it in your terms, because it's in her best interest to try." He said. "She's your Head of House, now. If you can start to resolve your problems with the nobles and the sisters, she'll have a young, resourceful voice of influence. And I do think she cares about you."
I had my doubts, but it might be worth a shot. "I'll...think about it."