Chapter 9
For the last two weeks, I’ve had a mild panic attack when approaching Whisk Me Away each morning. Since I walked in and found one of my kitchen walls covered in graffiti, I’d been terrified it would happen again. I was glad I wasn’t there when the break-in occurred, but it still unnerved me to know someone had been in my space—a space I was creating for myself, that was fast becoming my happy place. The last thing I needed was some punk ruining it for me.
I was taking back my little corner of the world and wouldn’t allow my fears to control my actions. The bakery was set to open in three weeks, and I needed to finish the decorations in order to start planning the menu. I wanted everything perfect before I opened those doors for the first time.
When I envisioned this bakery, I pictured it full of bright colors, delicious smells drifting from the kitchen, friends mingling over a cup of coffee, or book lovers tucked in a chair with a classic. The shelves Liam built on the back wall were precisely what I wanted, making me excited to hit the thrift store and find as many books as possible to fill them. I had them paint the shelves a blush pink that I couldn’t love more. Maybe I could convince Mia to accompany me this weekend when she wasn’t working.
As I pulled my car into the spot behind the bakery, I grabbed my bags before getting out and heading toward the door. A sigh of relief slipped past my lips when I took in the untouched back door.
The day of the incident, Brant spent most of that evening fixing the back door and then installing extra locks the next day. He also offered to help clean the graffiti off the walls so the painters could do my business name and logo. I had politely declined and then mentally kicked myself when it took me two days to clean most of it off on my own. I was still learning to allow help when offered, but it was so much more complicated when Brant was the one offering.
Every time he was around, I couldn’t help this draw I felt toward him like some invisible string was pulling us together. He had shown no interest in me that way, so in an effort to not make a fool of myself, I’ve been avoiding him spectacularly. The last thing we needed was to make it awkward when I was bound to run into him all over town for the rest of our lives.
Why was it that I always went for the emotionally unavailable guys? The guys who could say the right things, but when it came down to showing their feelings or making any sort of commitment, they hightail it the other direction. It wasn’t that I had awful experiences with guys. None of them were abusive or cheated. They just couldn’t give me what I was looking for. What most girls were looking for. Love, commitment, the white picket fence full of babies and dogs. Was that too much to ask? Maybe it was. Either way, I needed to keep my distance from Brant if I was going to lock these thoughts and feelings down.
I made my way through the back door, locking it behind me. I flipped on the lights as I went to the front and set down the bags filled with knick-knacks I’d been collecting. I had a bag of picture frames I couldn’t wait to get on the walls. I wanted the bakery to have a whimsical feel, and when I saw these frames with vintage-looking recipes for different baked goods, I couldn’t resist. Everything was coming together exactly how I always imagined. Yet, there was still that nagging presence of doubt.
What if I put in all this hard work and it failed? What if I couldn’t get the bakery off the ground and turn a profit? I shoved those fears as far down as I could. I wasn’t going to give life to those type of thoughts. Trust and have faith. I could do this.
I turned on a playlist of my favorite songs and spent the next few hours cleaning, placing decorations in what I thought would be their forever homes. Only to reorganizing said decorations a few more times before the ringing of my cell phone broke through my concentration. Frantically searching for it in the mess of bags, I found it on the top of the display case.
My mom’s face lit up the screen when I picked it up. A bolt of panic shot through me as I quickly slid the bar to answer her call.
“Hey, Mom. Are you okay?” My words came out rushed, almost like I’d just finished running a marathon.
“Hi, sweetie. I’m fine. I was just calling to see what your plans were for the rest of the day?” It wasn’t until I heard her voice that my heart began to slow its gallop. She sounded okay. She was going to be okay.
“Oh, um. Well, I was just at the shop putting up the decorations. I’m still having a difficult time making final decisions on the placements and may need another set of eyes in here. I should take a break before I start seeing doubles,” I huffed out a laugh. “I’ve been staring at these shelves and walls for too long.”
The sound of her laughter in return was good for my weary soul. I wanted to cherish that sound for as long as I lived. The sound that assured me Mom was here and happy.
“That’s probably a good idea. Sometimes, you need to step away and come back in order to see things clearly. Also, an extra set of eyes is never a bad thing,” she let out a small sigh. “I have treatment this afternoon, or I’d stop by and take a look for you.”
Treatment. I almost forgot I planned on sitting with Mom through her treatment today. The bakery could wait until tomorrow. I began packing up as I finished my call with Mom, assuring her I would be home soon. She insisted I didn’t need to come sit with her, but I cut her off and told her I would be there. Gilmore Girls and tea were in our future, so she’d better get ready.
I made quick work of tidying up the bakery and locking the door before hurrying to my car. The drive to Mom and Dad’s ranch wasn’t far, but it gave me time to overthink every little thing about my life in this season. There were so many things to be thankful for and so many things to bring to the Lord’s feet. One day at a time. We would all make it through, one day at a time.