Page 38 of Echoes of a Southern Song

Chapter Fourteen

Jinnie

––––––––

SOME DAYS JUST DON’T quit.

Today’s one of them—but in that weird, exhausted-but-satisfied kind of way. My feet ache, my back has a kink in it that probably requires twenty-two visits to a chiropractor, and I’m pretty sure I forgot to eat lunch. But still... I feel like I did something. Something important. Being the manager for a week was not a job I thought I wanted, but it’s kind of fun. I like doing something different.

I actually enjoyed myself today.

Not something I say often these days. Not with the weight of the trial hanging over everything like a dark cloud waiting to storm.

But work? Work felt like a little patch of sunlight.

With the manager out this week, it’s been chaos. Full tilt, frosting-on-the-ceiling kind of chaos. But I didn’t drop anything, didn’t forget anything, didn’t burn anything, and I only tripped once—and that was over my own shoelace, so it doesn’t count.

And honestly? I kind of loved being in charge. Answering questions, handling orders, updating the specials board, scheduling posts for social media... all of it. Especially the social media. There’s something weirdly satisfying about getting the angle just right on a tray of croissants. And when the lighting hits a muffin just so? Chef’s kiss.

I hear the door open and my first thought is ‘not another customer’ but I quickly dismiss it. I only have another twenty minutes. I can make it.

I step up front and see an older couple. “We made it!” the woman exclaims. “We saw a picture of the croissants online and got a craving. We drove thirty minutes to get here. Whoever posted those photos knows what they’re doing. I could practically smell those croissants. It made my mouth water.”

My heart skips a beat, and I feel that familiar flicker of pride. “That’s so kind of you,” I say, my customer-service smile turning genuine. “I’m glad you made the trip. What can I get for you?”

The woman claps her hands together like she’s just won the lottery. “Oh, everything looks so delicious! Harold, what do you think?”

Harold, a tall man with a neatly trimmed white mustache, leans over the counter to peer into the display case. His eyes twinkle as he points to a lavender buttercream cupcake. “That one. Looks like something that’ll hit the spot.”

“Let’s start with four of those cupcakes. And... oh, what’s that?” She points to another tray.

“Those are our raspberry thumbprints,” I say, pulling out a fresh tray from the case. “They’re buttery, with just the right amount of tartness from the jam.”

“Perfect,” the woman says as she claps her hands together. “We’ll take two of those as well. And... oh, Harold, look at the scones! We have to try one.”

Harold chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re going to clean them out if we’re not careful.”

I laugh along with them. It’s customers like this that make it all worth it. “Take your time,” I assure them. “I’ve got plenty more in the back if you decide you need a dozen.”

I listen as they talk about what they’re going to give to their granddaughter and their neighbors. They are like kids in a candy store with money to blow. I box everything up, stacking the pink boxes on the glass case.

“You know, dear, you have such a lovely smile,” the woman says. “It’s nice to see someone who genuinely enjoys what they do.”

Her words catch me off guard, and for a moment, I don’t know how to respond. It’s such a simple thing to say, but it feels like she sees me. Really sees me.

“Thank you,” I say. “That means a lot.”

After running their credit card for a ridiculous amount of money, they carry out the stacks of boxes with promises to return.

I look at the cases and laugh. Tomorrow was going to be just a little busier as we restock the cases.

I lock up and remove my apron. Those customers were exactly what I needed to finish the day with.

I get in my car and lean my head back against the seat, letting the engine hum while I sit for a second and breathe. I’m so tired I know I could fall asleep right here. I wonder what Jack is doing right now.

I miss him.

Then, as usual, my thoughts circle right back to the trial.