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I couldn't blame her there after the shit I witnessed on the playground.
“I would be a good big sister,” she said.
“I know you would, princess.”
“I’d help a lot.”
“Trust me. I don’t doubt that for a second. Now, why don’t you eat your dinner, and we’ll talk more about this later, okay?” I asked, not sure exactly what I was promising.
CHAPTER 2
HEATHER
Why does this have to be so damn hard?
I must have looked like a complete moron on the street as I stood frozen in place, in front of the doors to my bakery.
The greatest memories I had of Whitefish were in this same bakery I had purchased a few years back.
‘Aunt Eunice’s Doughy Rolls’ was the name back in the day. It got a laugh from the community and everyone flocked into those doors to get a taste of Aunt Eunice’s freshly-baked treats. I told myself one day I’d own a bakery like hers. My dream was to put smiles on people’s faces like she had put a smile on mine.
What I didn’t know was that I’d purchase it from her daughter soon after the old woman passed.
It came at a great time. My best friend, Nikki, had experienced a miscarriage that took her to her knees. And she needed her best friend to stick around town. I had a vision of one day getting out of Whitefish with her and never looking back. We had dreams of hitting the road together and starting our lives again somewhere big. Bright. Like California or Florida. Possibly Texas. But life always had a way of altering plans.
Nikki needed me for emotional support when her miscarriage tore her and her boyfriend apart, and a few weeks later the woman we all knew as Aunt Eunice passed away.
So, I bought the bakery and operated it under its original name.
A few years into the business, Nikki returned the favor to me when she was there for one of the toughest times of my life. I went through a bitter break-up with a man I truly thought was the one. It broke my heart and sent me into a drowning spiral of tears for what felt like forever. He was the first man I’d ever seen any sort of a future with, and just like that he dropped me. I turned to Nikki for support on many late nights when I couldn’t sleep, and she had the most brilliant suggestion. She proposed I do something to solidify my own independence. To remind myself of the strength I possessed as a businesswoman and the ruler of my own world.
So two years into owning my bakery, I renamed it ‘Heather’s Bake Shop’. Not as original as the founding title, but it was something I was damn proud of.
I was determined to prove that I didn’t need anyone’s money or reputation or support to run the bakery on my own.
Parents were never a source of support for me growing up. My parents were horrible at caring after themselves and even worse at taking care of another human being.
It was always up to me to make my way in the world.
I didn’t have a pretty past, but I was thankful for all the struggles I’d faced. They’d one day help me become the woman I’d always wanted to be: independent, strong and driven.
With my bakery, I could make my own reputation and make my own money to keep this place afloat without someone patting me on the back or picking me up anytime I fell.
That was always the plan. But plans don’t always go as planned in Heather’s world.
Turning on the lights of my bakery, I dropped my purse onto the counter. I had to get everything ready for the morning rush. I walked over to the refrigeration unit and started pulling out everything I needed. Eggs. Milk. Chilled butter that needed to sit on the counter. A bit of shredded cheese. Then, I moved on to the flour. The sugar. The powdered sugar. The vanilla extract.
I rolled my eyes as I stacked everything in the middle of the table.
The idea of a morning rush was a joke.
I was also in competition with another family bakery that had opened down the road shortly after me. That building was well-lit from the street and opened by a man and a woman who’d siphoned their retirement into the place, so they had the money upfront as well as the debt they’d dragged themselves into. And they really did it right. Painted signs on the windows advertised what they made. A beautiful hand-carved wooden door made people feel at home and led into an interior ambiance where people could sit down and eat.
No one could sit down at my bakery and eat anything. I barely had an operating budget, much less the means to decorate or buy furnishing.
I’d always favored assuming the best of others, but there were days where I couldn’t help by feel they’d sabotaged me on purpose. I’d have a sign made at the local shop after pinching pennies, but then they’d have a similar but bigger sign made up advertising the same thing. If my cinnamon rolls were buy-one-get-one, then their cinnamon rolls were fifty percent off, no matter what. If my cupcakes were a dollar off, then theirs were a dollar and a half off.
It really grated on my nerves.
