RE: Premises known as 1423 Maple Street, Unit A (Sugar Rush Bakery)
The effective date is December 26th. The day after Christmas.
The words swim.Eviction. Final Notice. December 26th.They don’t make sense. They can’t. This is myhome. My bakery. My dream.
The air rushes out of my lungs in a single whoosh. It feels like being punched. Like the floor has just vanished beneath my feet. I grip the edge of the counter, knuckles white, the legal papers crumpling slightly in my other hand. The cheerful Christmas music from the radio is mocking me now.You will get a sentimental feeling…
No. No, no,no.
My eyes scramble over the dense legalese. Phrases jump out, cold and sharp as icicles: “failure to comply with previous notices”, “breach of lease terms”, “vacate the premises by 12:00 PM on the effective date”, “failure to vacate will result in legal action and forcible removal.”
Forcible removal…
A high-pitched ringing starts in my ears, drowning out the radio, the mixer, the murmur of customers.
Failed. I’ve failed.
The cold knot that started in my stomach explodes, spreading icy tendrils through my veins, freezing my limbs,locking my lungs. Panic claws its way up my throat. My vision tunnels, darkening at the edges, focusing only on the words:December 26th.
“Hols? You okay?” Charlie’s voice sounds distant, muffled by the roaring in my ears. I feel her hand on my arm, but it barely registers. “What’s that?”
I can’t speak. My throat is closed tight, strangled by the sob trapped there. I try to shove the papers towards her, but my hand is shaking so violently the pages flutter to the floor. My mouth opens, but only a broken gasp escapes.
Charlie bends, scooping up the pages. Her eyes scan the top one. I watch her face as the color drains from her cheeks. Her usual defiant spark vanishes, replaced by a dawning horror that mirrors my own. “Oh, god. Hols. No.” Her voice is a whisper. “Final eviction? December 26th? But… but Denton… he said…”
He said he’d handle it.
The world tilts. This is Taviani’s final, brutal twist of the knife. Destroying not just my business, but my favorite time of year.
“Breathe, Hols. Just breathe.” Charlie’s hands are on my shoulders now, trying to steady me. “We’ll… we’ll figure something out. We’ll fight this. We’ll call a lawyer. We’ll?—”
“Lawyer?” The word rasps out. The cost… the time… the idea of fighting Tony’s legal machine. “With what money, Charlie?” My voice is a shattered whisper. “He’s won. The asshole has won.”
The hope I’d clung to, the belief that community spirit and Denton’s help could save us… it evaporates, leaving nothing but the cold, hard truth. It’s over. We’re done.
Charlie wraps her arms around me. “No, he hasn’t. Not yet. We’ll call Denton. He’ll know what to do.” She’s fumbling in her apron pocket, pulling out her phone.
Charlie presses my phone into my shaking hand. “Call him, babe.”
Denton’s name is at the top of my recent calls. I stab at it, and it starts ringing.Pick up. Please, please pick up.
One ring. Two. The mixer whirs on. The Christmas music plays.Have a holly jolly Christmas…
“Holly?” His voice comes through the line, deep and familiar. The sound of it cracks something else open inside me.
“D-Denton.” My voice is a wreck, choked and barely recognizable. I can’t form words. A sob catches in my throat again, strangling me. All I can manage is a ragged gasp, the name of the place that’s being ripped away from me. “The… the bakery.”
A beat of silence. Then, sharp and immediate, cutting through the static of my panic: “I’m on my way.”
The line goes dead. Just like that. No questions. No hesitation.I’m on my way.
I sink onto the nearest stool, my legs unable to hold me. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold the shattered pieces together, staring blankly at the notice laying on the counter.December 26th. The date screams at me.
But beneath the crushing weight of failure, beneath the icy dread, a tiny, desperate flicker ignites. He’s coming. Denton is coming.
I cling to that flicker, that fragile ember of hope, as the minutes stretch. The bakery bustles around me – Charlie quietly explaining to customers that we need to close early, her voice strained but steady.
I don’t move. I just stare at the hateful piece of paper, the legal jargon blurring into a gray smear. Every second feels like an eternity.Please. Please let him fix this.
