Her phone buzzed. Her heart leaped?—
But it was just Sarah. Cancelling her shift.
That's fine,Hannah typed back.I'm not sure if we'll open today anyway.
Sarah didn't respond.
The morning sun streamed through the windows, catching dust motes in the air. Usually by now, the bakery would be full of warmth and life—the hum of the ovens, the rich scent of coffee, the chatter of regulars sharing gossip over fresh pastries.
Instead, there was just silence.
Movement caught her eye. Through the front windows, she watched Tommy Mercer—a kid she'd known since he was in diapers—cross to the other side of the street.
She could lock the doors. Stay hidden. Let the town make up its mind before she faced the damage.
But no. This was her bakery.
Her grandmother's legacy.
They didn't get to take that away from her. With a deep breath, she marched to the door. Her hand hesitated for only a second before she flipped the sign to 'OPEN.'
The morning rush hour peaked outside. Customers who should have been lining up for their usual orders hurried past. A few people pointed, whispered behind their hands. Someone had their phone out, probably taking pictures.
In the kitchen, everything still sat exactly as she'd left it yesterday—bowls of rising dough, perfectly proofed, now ruined. A tray of golden croissants, grown stale on the cooling rack. The oldies station still playing, cheerful and mocking in the empty space.
She reached for her apron on autopilot, then remembered it was clutched in her hand, taken from a plastic evidence bag like something shameful.
The kitchen phone rang, shrill in the silence, making her jump.
She grabbed it, heart pounding?—
"Sugar & Spice, this is?—"
"Yeah, we need to cancel our wedding cake order."
Hannah tightened her grip on the receiver. She knew that voice.
Charlotte Miller.
Bride-to-be, one of her sweetest customers, someone who had gushed over lemon-raspberry cake samples just last week. Someone who had once said,"I wouldn't trust anyone but you to make my wedding cake, Hannah."
Now her voice was clipped. Cold. Distant.
"We'll get our deposit back, right?"
Hannah forced herself to breathe.
"Of course, Charlotte." Her voice barely wavered. Almost steady. "I'll process the refund today."
A beat of silence.
"Great. Thanks."
A pause.
Then the dagger.
"Nothing personal, you understand. Just... given the circumstances..."
