His eyes dart to the serving counter. “Got any eclairs?”
“Not today,” I smile. Dad might not be a baker, but he did bestow upon me an unhealthy love of sugar. “I’ll bring you a new recipe I was working on. Sit tight.”
He walks toward the only table I have right now then settles into the seat with a groan. I’m grateful he took my advice, for once. I’ve been telling him he needs to slow down for years, but he worries too much to ever take a break. Years of physical labor as a construction worker have taken a toll on his body. He is older. And each time I look at those wrinkles, a small worry finds me. Will I lose him too soon also?
I hand him a gluten-free cupcake, and he takes it without a second look. Only after he’s chewed and swallowed does he seem to realize something is different.
He coughs. “I think you left some sugar out, hon.”
“No, just the flour,” I chuckle. “I need to be able to accommodate allergies.”
He frowns at the cupcake. “That’s uh, nice of you, dear, it’s great.” He takes another bite.
I chuckle and go back to the counter, returning a moment later with a cinnamon roll.
He kindly finishes the cupcake before taking the gluten-filled dessert.
“So, have you thought any more about the security cameras?” Dad asks.
I freeze. “Uh.” Ever since I opened he’s been begging me to get some installed. There are some at the front entrance, but none inside or out back. I clear my throat. “I’m still thinking.”
“Honey, what if someone breaks in?”
Judging by that question he clearly hasn’t seen the broken display case or he would already be assuming the worst.
“I could have the feed sent to my phone as well as yours,” he continues.
“No. Dad. That’s not necessary.” I know I need cameras, for lots of reasons, and I know he’s just trying to help, but after all I’ve accomplished, it hurts when he looks at me and still sees a helpless girl.
“Of course it is. What if you collapsed in here and no one knew?”
He’s bringing up things that may never happen. Because he’s stuck in the past and his own failure to protect my mother.
“I’ll let you know,” I sigh. I’ll have to give in eventually. It’s simply not smart to run a business without safety precautions, but I need it to be my decision. How do I help him see that I am capable of protecting myself?
Cassie and Grady leave thirty minutes later. Until we are open for real, I only need them part-time.
It’s almost closing time, and I can finally open the package Dad brought. All the small knives are in the dishwasher, so I grab a long serrated one, take it out to the hallway, and start cutting through the tape.
From the moment I decided to open a bakery, I wanted to honor my mom. I went for a light and airy theme, with touches of yellow and pink, her favorite colors. Then I found this photo of my mom, in our old kitchen, grinning as she put the finishing touches on my seventh birthday cake. Her smile alone could sell an entire bakery's worth of goods. I instantly knew I wanted it in my shop.
I just didn’t realize it was going to be so big. I hope I have enough space on the wall.
I cut through the final piece of tape just as the door chimes.
Ugh. So close.
“Sorry, we’re closed,” I say, walking out to the front.
“Whoa,” Sean throws his hands in the air. “I come in peace.”
I drop the knife on the counter. “Why are you here?”
“I got your replacement case.” He sticks his hands in his pockets and lifts a shoulder.
Is he shy? Is this Sean shy? It’s adorable.
Wait… “Already?”
