Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Weston
I took another bite. It was unlike anything I’d ever had.
“How have I lived thirty-two years without a cinnamon roll like this? Where did you get this from?” I reached inside the box and grabbed another.
“Whoa, slow down.” Samantha laughed.
It was great to see her, but I couldn’t figure out for the life of me why she showed up at my office with a box of pastries.
“I can’t.” I took a big bite.
“You absolutely can,” she said.
“No,” I replied without hesitation. “Now, where did you get these? I’m going to have my secretary bring them in every morning."
"Well, Wes, I’m afraid you can’t do that.”
“Why?” My brows furrowed as I took another bite.
“Because you’re evicting the poor man who makes them.” She fell back into one of the chairs across from my desk.
“Avila’s? These are from Avila’s?”
“Yes. Those cinnamon rolls are their signature pastry. Mr. Avila’s been making them longer than you’ve been alive.
People line up every morning down the street, waiting for him to open the doors so they can get their cinnamon roll fix.
I was in there once, and Mrs. Avila, may her soul rest in peace, made a grown man cry when she told him they were sold out. ”
“Why are you doing this?” I stared at her.
“Why are you?” Her brow arched. “That bakery has been there for forty-two years and is beloved by everyone in the community.”
“I know,” I said.
“Forty-two years, Wes.”
“I can do math, Samantha.”
“Can you, though? Because right now, you’re acting like a sociopath.”
I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my forehead. “This is business. It isn’t personal.”
“He has customers who have been going there for decades. He knows everyone’s name, including mine, and he gives free cookies to the kids who come in. He let me cry in the back when I found out about Gym Girl Brittany.”
“What?” My brows furrowed. “Why would you tell a random stranger about that?”
“I told you, and you’re a stranger. And besides, I’ve known Mr. Avila since I was a kid.
He gave me free cookies back in the day.
I went in there to drown my sorrows in pastries.
He’d noticed I’d been crying and asked what was wrong.
I lost it and told him. He grabbed a cinnamon roll, a blueberry muffin, a cherry turnover, a few donuts, and took me in the back. ”
“That’s a lot of pastries.”
“It was a difficult day,” she said, and I smiled. She leaned over my desk. “Mr. Avila matters, Wes.”
I stared into her beautiful eyes.
“He isn’t just a tenant. He’s part of the neighborhood.
He’s a legend in the community. Everybody knows him.
He sponsored Little League teams. He donated pastries to schools.
Hell, he even remembers birthdays. And now some giant real estate company wants to kick him out because a spreadsheet says his rent needs to increase three times the amount he’s already paying.
If Mr. Avila goes, those cinnamon rolls go, and your dream of having them in the office every morning is gone. Poof. Bye-bye, cinnamon rolls.”
I ran my hand down my face.
“I’ll take it under advisement,” I said.
“You won’t.”
“I will,” I sighed. “I promise.”
“The community is counting on you, Wes.” She stood from her chair, gripping the strap of her purse.
“It was good to see you again, Samantha.”
“You can call me Sam.” She walked out of my office.
I looked down at the second cinnamon roll, almost completely devoured.
“Rose,” I shouted from my office. “Get Finn in here.”
A few moments later, Finn walked in. “What’s up?”
“Taste this.” I handed him what was left of the second cinnamon roll.
He took a bite, and his eyes widened instantly.
“Wes, this is—”
“I know. I had the same reaction. Samantha Hollis brought me this box of pastries.”
“Why?”
“They’re from Avila’s.”
“Shit. The man we evicted?”
“Evicted? It’s already done?”
“Yeah. He was told about three hours ago, and the notice was put on the door. He has to be out within thirty days.”
“He gives children free cookies, and he sponsors Little League teams.”
“And?” Finn asked.
“He remembers people’s birthdays and consoles them when they’re upset.”
“Wes, what is wrong with you?”
“He’s just not part of the community. He is the community. I’m leaving for the day.” I stood up, grabbed my suitcoat and my briefcase, and walked out of my office.
When I reached the car, I had Ben drive me to Avila’s. I approached the door, and the only thing my eyes saw was the eviction notice plastered front and center for the entire community to see. I opened the door, stepped inside, and instantly, Mr. Avila tried to kick me out.
“I have thirty days, Mr. Castile. You are not welcome in my bakery. You may leave.”
I stared at the little old man as he stood behind the counter, sliding a tray of freshly baked cookies into the glass case. The thought of never eating one of his cinnamon rolls again upset me. They were the type of rolls that would get anyone through a bad day.
I reached over and ripped the eviction sign from the door.
“What are you doing?” Mr. Avila asked.
“I’m having a new lease drawn up. A five-year lease with rent that stays the same. But only on one condition,” I said.
“What’s your condition?” he asked.
“I want a dozen of those cinnamon rolls boxed up and sent to my office Monday through Friday.”
“You have yourself a deal, Mr. Castile.” He grinned. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” He stepped out from behind the counter and hugged me, totally catching me off guard.
“You’re welcome. You’re a pillar in this community, and you will remain as such,” I said. “Besides, you can thank a friend of yours.”
“A friend? Who?”
“Samantha Hollis.”
“Oh, Samantha is a beautiful person inside and out. She has the soul of an angel. And that daughter of hers, Zoey, is a real gem. I don’t understand, though.”
“She cares, Mr. Avila. And I believe I just found out the lengths she’d go to when she’s passionate about something. Do you, by chance, have any cinnamon rolls left?”
“I have three left in the back.”
“I’ll take them.” I smiled.