Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Meh, I didn’t see that happening. Neither did anyone else. We didn’t discuss who’d take the helm next, but let’s be real, I sucked in the kitchen and my mother knew it.
Yet she’d still asked me to stop by the bakery every day since I’d come home, insisting she could use my help. I couldn’t tell if this was passive-aggressive guilt treatment or if she was just worried about me.
Definitely the latter.
“Annie, you beautiful dragon! I’m here to save the day.”
The eighty-year-old white-haired woman with advanced osteoporosis barked a laugh as she looked up from a giant vat of dough. “Well, if it isn’t Prince Charming. Get over here and give me a hug.”
I obeyed, careful not to squeeze too hard for fear of cracking her bones.
Annie Mellon, or Crabby Annie as she was secretly known by most of the population of Elmwood, was an interesting combo of tiny and frail, yet boisterous, brassy, and ready to give hell at a moment’s notice. She’d worked for my family her whole life and had helped run operations until my mom took over. I used to hang out at the bakery after rink time when I was a kid, begging Annie to let me help stir something or taste something, and ideally reward me with a treat.
“How are you, Annie?”
“I’ve been off work for a month. My arthritis is killing me, my doctor told me to cut back on the smokes, I gashed my thumb on that fucking new industrial bread slicing machine, but otherwise…” She shrugged and the effort lifted her shoulders to her ears. “No complaints. I heard a rumor you were in town, and that’s more interesting by half. What the hell are you doing here?”
I pulled the bag of flour from the shelf, slit it open, and poured it into a bin the way I’d been taught as a kid. “Oh, you know…got tired of the grind and needed an Elmwood fix.”
“Bullshit.”
I snort-laughed. “Fine. I got cut from my team and fired my agent when he told me I was too old and that I should be happy the organization agreed to pay out the rest of my contract. So until I can find a new home, I’m here.”
“Ah, that happened to Daryl, God rest his soul.” She made the sign of the cross and pointed to heaven, adding, “Minus the contract. He was a softy, so I wasn’t as surprised as he was when the ax fell. It tore his confidence to shreds.”
“That’s not helping, Annie,” my mother sang from the front of the shop.
“I’m talking about Daryl, God rest his soul,” Annie yelled. She pursed her pink-stained lips and regarded me safely. “I don’t remember you being sensitive.”
“I’m not,” I assured her. “And I know it’ll be fine…eventually. Did Mom tell you I’m helping out at the rink? I’m coaching Mighty Mites and helping out with the older players too. Maybe it’ll keep me out of trouble.”
“Oh, hooey. Go get in trouble too,” she snorted. “Nothing and no one lasts forever, Court. Have some fucking fun while your bones still allow. And don’t let a setback get you down. You know who you are. No one can take that from you. When you dig deep and put in the work, you end up right where you’re supposed to be.”
Wow. Okay, I’d needed that. I’d forgotten Annie’s funny habit of dropping wisdom in between f-bombs.
I inclined my head and smiled. “Thanks. Do you need anything else while I’m here?”
She pointed at the tray of maple cookies cooling on a rack on the narrow stainless steel table in the middle of the room. “Yeah. I need you to eat a fucking cookie. You’re too skinny.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I rolled my eyes, chuckling when she swatted my arm. I dutifully wrapped two cookies in a napkin, and kissed Annie’s cheek. “See ya, gorgeous.”
She shuffled to the sink, humming loudly in dismissal. I headed into the shop, waving a quick good-bye to my mom, who was busy with a customer. Perfect.
Yellow and orange leaves drifted on a cool breeze like colorful giant snowflakes out front. The ground was covered in autumnal shades and every shop on Main Street was decked out with pumpkins, gourds, and cute turkey decorations. In a couple of weeks, there’d be wreaths on every window, garland on the lampposts and on the pillars of Town Hall.
I’d lived in plenty of other cities that went all out for the holidays, but nothing quite like Elmwood. I paused on the sidewalk with my cookies in hand and let warm sentimental feelings wash over me in a welcoming wave. I’d been home for over a week, yet this was the first time I’d allowed myself to just…relax and appreciate this hiatus for what it was—a mini break from reality.
With cookies.
I patted my pocket and pushed open the door to Rise and Grind.