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He was there, at Bubbe’s Bakery, alone as he ever was. Adam was living with his girlfriend, Talia, in the little apartment above her café, and while Noah was happy for him, a small piece of him felt like Adam’s absence was nothing more than a mark of the inevitable ending of the bakery.
Adam had insisted he wasn’t going to give up his time at Bubbe’s, but working with his girlfriend proved to be a bigger monopoly on his time than he’d anticipated. Noah had assured him it was fine, that he’d make do, and he would. He had to. Bubbe’s was a few missed payments away from folding, and he didn’t see a solution. They had been in the red for over a year, and he knew as well as any accountant that there was no coming back from that.
Nothing short of a miracle, and he’d stopped believing in those the day he set his first stones on Bubbe’s grave and realized any covenant he made with Hashem would probably be ignored. He was in too deep now to give up, of course, and Adam was too important to take the risk. But it was habit, not real faith.
With a sigh, Noah set the dough into the walk-in for the slow rise, then hung his apron up and moved to the sink to wash up. He looked a mess, but Adam was having his official grand opening over at the fire station where the fire chief had set up a little makeshift petting zoo for the kids in order to raise money for the local cat café and shelter.
It was going to be cute, and Noah would have enjoyed the idea more if it wasn’t crushing him with social anxiety. But he was trying more—for Adam, for the things his brother was doing and the steps he was taking to bridge the gap between them. Noah felt worse about it for the secrets he was keeping. The fact that Bubbe hadn’t left the bakery to them both, that Noah alone shouldered the burden of ownership and finances. That it had been on the verge of collapse since Noah was dragged back from college and forced to take her place, to play parent to an angry fourteen-year-old who had just lost the last parental figure he’d ever had.
He managed to keep them afloat for a while, and Adam’s refusal to do anything with his culinary schooling besides work at Bubbe’s had helped but not enough. The loan was a stopgap. It was a way for Noah to provide for Adam before it all came crashing down.
The foundation was already ruined, and the walls were starting to tremble.
He knew that disaster too well.
He could only pray at this point that he wouldn’t lose his only family along with the scraps of their childhood home that were left now that Bubbe was gone.
As summer crept closer, the nights were easier to bear, and he enjoyed the breeze on his skin after being trapped in the kitchen all day. As much as Savannah felt like a prison some days, he did love it there. He loved that he could spin in a full circle and never get tired of looking at the cobblestones of old streets. He loved that the summer air was fragrant, and the winter was rich with smoke from fireplaces. As much as this place held grief, it also held joy.
It held Adam’s first steps and his first words. It held Bubbe’s smiles, and off-key Shabbat blessings, and the smells of home. He knew that the bakery wasn’t long for the world, but he wasn’t ready to roll over and give it all up. Not yet.
The walk to the fire station wasn’t far, and he heard the soft murmur of voices as he got closer. Someone was playing music on a loudspeaker that didn’t carry far, and he could already smell fresh baked goods on the breeze. He caught the swift tang of barn scent, which told him Fitz had already set up, and Noah felt a little better because he’d made friends with Fitz over the last few months and had enjoyed his company.
He was a friendly and massive man with burn scars all over his arm and face, which added to his rugged charm. If Noah hadn’t been such an anxious mess, he probably would have fallen for the man’s flirting. But it was what it was.
Crossing over the grass courtyard, Noah stepped onto the pavement and rounded the corner to the massive parking lot at the fire station. The bay doors were wide open, kids hanging on and around the front of each truck, and off to the side was the makeshift paddock that held the goats, the duck, and a handful of cats who didn’t seem at all interested in escaping the eager hands, giving them all love.
To the right of that were two food trucks—No Cilantro and the Lofty Latke—the little food truck Adam had set up since he and Talia had started to expand the café. It was the first time Noah had seen it in action. He’d missed the soft opening, which had been on a Friday night, and then Adam shut it down to work out the final kinks before the debut.
From his spot near the edge of the party, he saw Adam behind the small window—smiling bigger than he had in years. His girlfriend, Talia Cahn, was behind him, long hair pulled into a bun, wearing a t-shirt withLatkeemblazoned across the front. She touched the small of Adam’s back, making his brother soften just a fraction.
“Hey!” Noah turned to see the newest neighborhood resident, Will, approaching with a to-go cup clenched in his large fist. Will and his two lovers had caused a little bit of a stir when they’d breezed into Savannah a few years prior. Savannah had always been a more open and accepting small town, and the trio was probably safer from judgment there than anywhere else.
But they were new and different, and it had taken Will a while to wear what he had with Noah down into something like a friendship. Noah didn’t mind now. He liked the trio’s little farm and the way Will always seemed to know what to say when Noah felt like he was teetering too close to the edge of a cliff.
Will offered a smile when Noah looked at him, the turn of his lips tugging at his freshly trimmed beard. He was every bit a mountain man in his faded jeans and flannel shirt, and Noah loved that about him. “You’re late, you know. You missed all the drama.” Will nodded toward what Noah now realized was a pile of glass swept into the corner near the Latke’s back tire.
“Was someone hurt?” Noah asked, eyes going wide.
Will laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Nah. Just Chase attempting to make a bigger deal than he was capable.” Will pulled out his phone and showed Noah the forty-second video of Talia’s head server, Chase, trying and failing to break a champagne bottle against the side of the truck.
“I hope he didn’t scratch the paint,” were the first words that tumbled from Noah’s lips when the bottle finally broke and everyone cheered, and he groaned at himself. He was such a damned killjoy. It was better that he’d missed it all.
Will didn’t seem bothered, though. His smile softened, and he threw his arm around Noah’s neck after tucking his phone away. “Adam seems like he’s enjoying the new ride.”
Noah rolled his eyes, but he also couldn’t help his smile. “I think so.”
“You’re not hurting for help are you? With him gone?” Will dropped his arm and shrugged. “I could always come in and lend a hand.”
Noah raised a brow. “Getting bored of retirement already?”
Will pulled a face, but his eyes kept his smile. “A man can only take so much goat milking and egg collecting before he starts to feel a bit nutty. But I mean that honestly, mate. If you need a hand…”
“I have Paxton,” Noah said, but he scowled as his one employee’s name fell past his lips, and he rolled his eyes. Paxton wasn’t bad per se, just a bit useless. “It’s working well enough.”
In truth, he could have used the extra hands. He had no money for anything. He was barely keeping the lights on as it was. It was worth it, but for how long?
Will looked dubious, but he clapped Noah’s shoulder again, not paying attention to the way the touch made Noah flinch. “Just let me know, yeah?”
