Chapter 32 Daisy
We’re up early the next morning, waking to surf before the sun rises. Then Miles is off to the studio to work on some boards with his dad, and I’m back in the bakery.
Yesterday was perfect, with all our family and friends there, getting to tour the bakery and taste everything I’ve been working on.
I was nervous but excited, and it feels even better to know that everyone loved it. Opening in just a few short days will be the final test, but Miles and I have been hard at work getting the word out to the community.
Even better, Lisa already has a few items on the bar menu, and they sell out daily.
And yesterday morning, before the excitement of the soft opening, I signed a contract with Orchid Bay to supply breakfast pastries to their little walk-up coffee shop in the lobby.
Like Lisa’s bar, it’s first come, first served, and when they’re gone, hopefully people will visit the bakery instead.
Sometimes I worry that people are just being nice, allowing me to have my items in their restaurant and hotel because we’re friends. But it’s Miles who reassures me, telling me that having close friends who support you is part of the business.
“Good morning!” Sloane’s voice calls, cheerful and sweet. “You better have a Boston Cream cupcake for me.”
She finds me in the back, in the little office Miles created for me to get paperwork done. It was a suggestion his dad made to keep work and home separate, or else it all blurs together. Something Tanner learned early in his small business career, and I’ll take any advice I can get.
“In the freezer,” I tell Sloane, and she smiles, turning on her heel to grab one. “I’ll be out in just a second. Finishing up entering an order.”
Ten minutes later, I’m joining Sloane in the kitchen. She’s come by to help me get some cupcakes made and frozen so I’m ready for the rush of the opening. Well, what I hope is a rush of people when I open.
I have two huge fears: one being that no one shows up, and the other being that I run out of goods. I’ve already started taking advance orders, and I have way more than I expected. And they’re not just from Lisa or Orchid Bay.
With Lisa, it’s a rotating menu, but with Orchid Bay, they’ve ordered the same thing daily: mostly scones, muffins and breads—things I plan to sell here at the bakery, but the main focus is cakes and cupcakes.
I have an order for six dozen cupcakes for a baby shower the day after I open. That’s one of the things Sloane and I will be working on today.
“So what’s the plan for today?” Sloane asks, her cupcake defrosting on one of the racks, a clean towel placed over it like I taught her.
“Plan is to crank out six dozen pink vanilla cupcakes for an order and get them in the freezer. I’ll frost those fresh the night before,” I tell her. “Then, we can get to work on the opening day menu items.”
“Boston Cream?” she asks, smirking.
They’re her favorite. All of my friends have their favorites.
Miles loves the pink vanilla, and Kai’s favorite is the coconut cake.
Sage and Nate both love the white chocolate strawberry.
Alana is lime chiffon, and Flynn’s is just simple chocolate.
Owen pretty much eats anything, totally going with the vibe of his whole go-with-the-flow personality.
“Of course, Boston Cream,” I say, laughing. She’s never going to let me have a day when it’s not on the rotating menu. I always have a few stashed away in the freezer for her, regardless.
“Last night went really well,” Sloane says, grabbing some of the items we need. She’s been helping me for a while, learning the machines and the recipes.
“Yeah, it did. I really wanted the band to play, but Miles wanted it to be about me.”
“I get that. He didn’t want the focus to be taken off of you, and that’s really sweet.”
We work and chat for several hours, music playing, lots of laughs and stories shared. It’s so great having her here, and I love that she has given up her time to help me.
She’s nearly done with school and will begin working for Orchid Bay as one of their graphic designers.
I love that she has a job lined up already—something she was worried about when she started her journey to get her degree.
She always feared she wouldn’t make it, that her past would stop her from being successful.
“I picked us up some sandwiches from Lisa’s,” Sloane says, walking over to the refrigerator to grab them. “Wanna take a break and have some lunch?”
“Yeah, sure. Thanks for grabbing lunch.”
Walking out to the front of the bakery, we sit down at one of the small tables, and Sloane takes everything out of the bags.
“Turkey or ham?” she asks, holding both up. I choose the turkey, leaving the ham for Sloane since I know it’s her favorite.
Just as she’s unwrapping her sandwich, a strange look comes over her face. Brows knitted together, she begins to chew on her bottom lip.
I’m sitting across from her, my back to the window, and when I look over my shoulder, I take in what she sees.
It’s Isaac.
He’s sitting in his truck, parked across the street from the bakery. His window is down, his arm resting on the door, a cigarette between his fingers, watching us.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
“Yeah, fuck is right,” Sloane responds, but her tone is harsh. Anger laces her words. “Want me to go out there and tell him to leave?”
He’s not violating the restraining order, and he knows that. It’s why he’s parked across the street and not in the little parking lot out front.
Telling him to leave will only make him linger longer. That’s what he wants. Confrontation. An argument. He wants me to go out there or for me to call Miles, and then a fight starts.
“No. Just ignore him. He’ll go away,” I tell Sloane, but she lets out a hard sigh, not liking my answer. “He wants us to get pissed.”
“I am pissed,” she spits out, folding her arms across her chest as she stares back at him, tossing up a middle finger a few seconds later.
“Seriously, Sloane, I know he’s a dick, but don’t engage with him. That’s what he wants.”
“That fucker is laughing,” Sloane says, her teeth clenched, and I close my eyes and let out a slow breath. “Laughing after I flipped him off. What a fucking piece of work.”
“Yeah, he is, but we can’t let him see he’s getting to us. He can’t come in here. Honestly, he can’t even cross the street.”
“I know, but ugh…” Sloane says, picking up her sandwich but never taking her eyes off of him. “He hasn’t tried to contact you, right?”
“No, nothing really since the restraining order. I mean, he drives by here. Does shit like this,” I reply, tossing a hand over my shoulder to where he’s parked. “But it’s all just for show. He wants me to know he’s still around, but he’s just an idiot. He’ll go away.”
And when I glance over my shoulder a few seconds later, he’s driving off.
“See, he left,” I tell Sloane, annoyed still but relieved. “It’s all just attention-seeking behavior, and if I don’t give him what he wants, he eventually leaves.”
“You should call the police,” she counters. “He’s bothering you. Intentionally sitting outside your business. He could cause harm to it by bothering customers.”
“But he hasn’t, so I’m not sure the police will do anything. He hasn’t violated the restraining order. Really, he’s just being annoying. The police have real problems to deal with. They don’t need to hear me whining about my immature ex who can’t seem to get over me.”
Sloane nods, but I can tell that she doesn’t agree, but I really don’t think there’s anything I can do unless he breaks the order.
Back in the kitchen, Sloane is pulling a batch of cupcakes out of the oven while I’m frosting some. We’ve been working, chatting about mindless shit, the music playing, and the time passes so quickly. Before we both realize it, it’s starting to get dark.
Sloane’s phone chimes, and she glances down where it lies on the counter. Smiling, I know it’s from Owen. He’s the only person who can make her smile like that.
“What’s going on with Owen?” I ask her, and her cheeks flush pink, embarrassed that I caught her smirking about whatever he sent.
“Oh, nothing. Just being his typical unicorn self,” she jokes. “He’s coming by with Miles in a bit. They’re going to stop and pick up dinner.”
And like clockwork, my phone chimes, and Sloane and I let out a laugh. “These boys. Always checking up on us,” I tease, but I love it.
Since getting back together with Miles, he’s been amazing. Attentive and helpful, sweet and sexy—everything I could ask for.
I left my phone on the table where Sloane and I were eating lunch, so I head through the kitchen and out there to grab it.
But when I get to the counter, I freeze.
Isaac is standing at the front door. Just standing there, staring at me through the double glass doors. A slick and smarmy smile on his face, and my heart begins to race, scared and frozen with fear.
He’s not supposed to be this close to me, even if we are separated by a locked door. My hands are shaking, my words trapped in my throat.
I need to yell for Sloane, tell her to call the police, but I can’t. And when I finally realize what I need to do, making my legs move to where my phone is sitting, it’s too late.
I watch as he lights a match, dropping it, and all I see is flames. My worst nightmare is unfolding right in front of my eyes.
Something I never thought would happen, but in the back of my mind, I knew he was capable of horrible things, and he’s finally done it.
He’s trying to burn the bakery down with Sloane and me in it.
Swiping my phone from the table, I dial 911 while I scream for Sloane to get out.
“Sloane! Run! Go!” I yell, but she’s confused when I run into the kitchen, my phone to my ear.
The operator comes on, and all I can do is shout the address down the phone. My thoughts are a mess, jumbled and confused, but I know I need the fire department, and Sloane and I need to get out.
“Hurry, there’s a fire!” I shout, the operator confused.
“Miss, calm down. Please repeat the address.”
“I can’t calm down!” Tears begin to stream down my face. My dream is about to be destroyed, and if Sloane and I don’t get out, we’re going to die in here.
I shove Sloane toward the back exit, but when we reach it, it’s engulfed in flames just like the front entrance.
“Daisy!” Sloane wails, clinging to me as the thick black smoke begins to pour in from under the door.
I’m still yelling the address to the operator, who finally seems to pick up on what I need and tells me she’s sending the fire department.
We race to the front of the bakery, but the deep orange flames surround the building, and as the smoke begins to billow into the space, stinging our eyes and making it hard to breathe, I know what I have to do.
Our exits are blocked, intentional and planned. Isaac is trying to kill me and burn the bakery to the ground. I feel helpless and sick, vomit rising up in my throat.
But I don’t have time to feel this way. We need to get out, and as much as I don’t want to do this, we need to break a window.
“Stand back!” I yell to Sloane, the sound of sirens filling the air, and as much as I want to breathe a sigh of relief, we aren’t there yet.
Picking up a chair, I throw it at the window, but nothing happens. It basically bounces off, and I can’t believe it.
Sloane and I are both screaming, the room growing hotter and hotter as the flames continue to grow, wrapping around the building, but still not covering the windows on the sides.
The sirens get louder, their red glow lighting the building as Sloane and I grow increasingly frantic. Gasping for air, but the room is filled with smoke, and my lungs feel like they’re on fire too.
There’s no way out, and the tears come quickly for both of us. It’s a horrible feeling, knowing rescue is coming, but will they make it in time?