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“He sent a few emails, just to show us pictures of the progress of the bakery,” her mom said. “We started talking. He’s a good man, and he loves you very much.”
Now that the bakery was full of customers, the kids abandoned their dough project and began chasing each other. It was beautiful chaos.
“One thing I want you to know is that we made a mistake not letting you make your pastries,” her mom said.
“Okay, who are you and what have you done with my parents?”
Her mom batted a hand. “Oh, stop.”
“We’ve been so busy, so focused on keeping our business sustainable for the family, that we didn’t see what madeyouspecial, and now—” Her dad gestured around the bakery. “We do. You could never have anything like this at Renzo’s, and we don’t want to hold you back.”
“So, we’ve made some changes.” Her mom looped her arm through her dad’s. “Your dad’s stepping down as general manager.”
What?
“What’s the point of Enzo going to business school if I’m just going to keep doing things the way they’ve always been done?” her dad asked.
“So, he’ll become the CEO,” her mom said proudly. “And he’s free to make the changes he thinks are best.”
Her brother had so many ideas that no one was willing to implement. “What about you guys?”
“Well, we’ve bought the building you were looking at, so Marco can open a café—”
“That’ll sell Renzo’s baked goods,” her dad said.
“Are you serious?” Her brother had always dreamed of owning a bar and bistro.
“Hey, you’re not the only one who gets to follow her heart,” her mom said.
“And what’s your heart, Mom?”
Her mom looked startled. “Oh, I don’t know. No one’s ever asked me that.”
“Maybe now, you’ll have the time to find out.”
“I do know one thing,” her mom said. “We’ve worked so hard all our lives that we’ve missed out on getting to know our children as individuals. We’ll have grandchildren soon, and we don’t want to make the same mistake. So, maybe that’s where I’ll find my heart.”
“We’ll still work,” her dad said. “We’ll just hand more responsibility to others.”
“Which gives us time to visit you,” her mom said.
A crash had dishware rattling, and the room quieted for a moment. Kinny had slammed into the antique whitewashed armoire that showcased local products and packaged baked goods. Grace bolted, but another parent got there first, picking her up and smoothing her dress.
“Are you okay?” the woman asked. “Where’s your mommy?”
Grace hated when people asked that question—it hurt little girls like Kinny who didn’t have moms.
But the little girl—with her hair a mess from playing, a streak of dried dough on her cheek—looked around the room, her gaze landing on Grace. She pointed. “Right there.”
She could hear her mom’s sharp intake of breath, she could feel the heat in the room from the crush of customers, and she could smell the butter and sugar that permeated her lovely space, but her entire being was focused on getting to that little girl who’d stolen her heart.
Hurrying over, she dropped to her knees and enfolded her in her arms. “I love you, Kinny. I love you so much.”
Little arms wrapped around her neck, the cast a bulky weight.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” she asked. “Did you get hurt?”
“Yes. I hit my head.”
