Chapter 1 #2
By the time the clock hit five-thirty, the display cases were piled high with croissants, turnovers, Danishes, biscuits, muffins, donuts, small cakes, and a few experimental pastries I wasn’t totally sure were legal.
I offered pre-made breakfast sandwiches but figured I could take special orders once I’d hired more help.
I wiped my forehead with the clean part of my apron. “Okay. I think we’re almost—”
My phone’s alarm chimed.
Six. Sharp.
My breath caught. “Oh no. I’m not ready.” I glanced around in a panic. Everything seemed to be in place, yet something was missing.
Cora peeked through the window of the door that led to the front dining room and gasped. “Missy… you have a line outside.”
“A line?” I felt a rush of joy.
“A long line.”
Max walked over to look then whistled. “I count at least thirty people.”
Cade came up behind me. “I told you they’d show up.” His voice was warm and soft at the edges. “This place looks amazing and smells like heaven.”
“Whatever isn’t ready, we’ll work on behind the scenes. No one will know you’re not at one-hundred-percent today. It’s like our wedding—guests didn’t realize the mistakes,” Cora said as she took my brother’s hand in hers. “We were the only ones who knew.”
She was right. I had enough sweets to last two days at this point. If I didn’t have it, it was easy to run to the back and make it quickly. So I swallowed my fears. My heart skipped a beat and then settled. It was now or never. “Okay,” I whispered. “Okay. We’re doing this.”
“Then open the door.” Cora nudged me playfully as she glidied toward the register like a sugar-scented ballerina general ready for war.
The front of my bakery had been ready for days thanks to Cade and his crew, who had done all the construction. Max and Cora had helped me arrange the rest.
Every table, chair, and display case was cleaned and waiting for customers.
Natural wood ceilings warmed the space, their honeyed tones making the whole shop feel like a hug.
One wall, my favorite, was the old painted brick I’d fought to keep.
Now it was lined with four booths upholstered in bright red cushions that practically begged people to slide in and stay awhile.
The tables were glossy white with tiny sparkles that caught the light whenever someone walked by, and the black-and-white-tiled floor gave everything a timeless, retro charm.
I’d even put classic food art on the empty walls to tease the taste buds.
Behind the register, a massive chalkboard stretched nearly the length of the wall, proudly listing pastries, prices, and my attempts at cute doodles.
A short high-top bar ran along the side, just big enough for six stools, perfect for customers who wanted to sip coffee while watching the world pass the front windows.
Speaking of which, my coffee and hot-chocolate bar sat right beneath that large window, filling the shop with the warm scents of roasted beans and melted cocoa.
Half a dozen tables and chairs filled the dining area, and outside, four more sets waited on the little front patio, surrounded by flower beds that would explode with color once spring finally remembered our town existed.
The place was ready. Everything was perfect. Even if I still had that nagging feeling that something was missing deep down in my gut.
I smoothed my hair, not that it mattered; I was ninety percent flour at this point. I removed my messy apron and stepped out front. My palms were sweating. My pulse hammered.
I flipped the sign.
OPEN.
A cheer rose from the crowd outside, which had me grinning. My heart nearly burst as I unlocked the front door.
The first customers flowed in, locals I’d met over the past few months since moving here and strangers with kind smiles.
A few people declared they’d been waiting since five that morning.
Cora handled the register like a pro, taking orders with grace and lightning-fast fingers.
I boxed pastries, smiled until my cheeks hurt, and tried not to cry when someone said, “We’ve been excited about this opening for weeks. ”
Behind me, Cade and Max kept the back running like a well-oiled machine, refilling trays, swapping out pans, and snatching new batches from the oven.
I caught glimpses of Cade through the doorway.
His sleeves were rolled up and his forearms flexed as he moved.
His shaggy dark hair kept falling over his brow as he moved around the kitchen.
Every time he noticed me watching, he flashed that slow friendly smile. What would I have done today without him?
When the rush eased a couple hours later, I stood behind the counter, dazed and extremely happy.
Cora leaned over. “I think this place is a huge success. I mean, I can’t tell you how many people promised they’d come by every morning.”
Max stepped out from the kitchen, brushing his hands on a towel. “I’m so proud of you.” He walked over and gave me a one-arm hug.
A few minutes later, Cade emerged from the kitchen with a half-eaten croissant sandwich in his hands. His eyes met mine quickly, and I realized that they were warm enough to melt chocolate.
“You crushed it,” he said softly and gave me a fist bump with his free hand, like he’d always done when I had impressed him.
“These are the best.” He waved the last bite of the sandwich.
“I’m probably going to get fat eating these every morning, but I’m willing to make the sacrifice if it means keeping this place open,” he joked.
“You’ve earned the sandwich and a dozen donuts,” I said, holding up an empty box. “Take your pick.” I waved to the wall of donuts.
“Free donuts?” His eyes grew wide. “Best day ever,” he whispered as he started picking out his favorites.