Epilogue
Dixie
The August heat wrapped around Bitter Root like a blanket, turning the sidewalks into griddles and sending everyone scrambling for shade by noon. But inside Dough & Arrow, the air conditioning hummed and the ovens filled the kitchen with warmth that felt earned rather than oppressive.
I pulled a tray of cinnamon rolls from the oven, golden brown and glossy with butter. The smell alone was enough to make my mouth water — brown sugar and spice and a little bit of heaven.
"Beautiful," Ruby said, peering over my shoulder. "You're getting better than us, and that's saying a lot."
"She's being modest," Pearl added from her spot at the decorating station, where she was piping delicate roses onto a two-tier anniversary cake. "Ruby hasn't made cinnamon rolls that pretty in years."
"I heard that."
"You were meant to."
I bit back a smile. Half a year of working with the Garrett sisters, and their bickering had become as familiar as my own heartbeat. They argued about everything — the right temperature for proofing dough, the proper shade of pink for wedding roses, whether Frank Sinatra or Dean Martin made better baking music. But underneath the squabbling was fifty years of partnership and a love for this bakery that showed in every perfectly crimped pie crust.
They'd taken me in when I was a server with a dream and no credentials. Now I was their official apprentice, learning recipes they'd guarded for decades, working toward ownership of a business that had been the heart of Bitter Root since before I was born.
Some days I still couldn't believe it was real.
"The Harrison order needs to go out by two," Ruby reminded me, nodding toward the pickup counter. "And Laverne called again about her niece's baby shower cake. She wants pink and blue because they're not finding out the gender, but she also wants it to be 'surprising' somehow."
"She wants a cake that reveals the gender they don't know?"
"That's what I said. Pearl told her we'd figure something out."
"Pearl is an optimist."
"Pearl is standing right here," Pearl called without looking up from her roses, "and Pearl thinks you two should stop gossiping and start glazing those cinnamon rolls before they get cold."
I grabbed the bowl of cream cheese glaze and got to work. Through the front window, I could see Main Street baking in the summer sun — tourists wandering between shops, locals ducking into Bitter Beans for iced coffee, the lunch crowd starting to trickle toward The Hungry Heifer.
I didn't work there anymore. Doris had hugged me when I gave my notice, told me she'd always known I was meant forbigger things. Now I stopped by as a customer, ordering pie and leaving tips that made the servers' eyes go wide.
It felt wonderful. Being on this side of things. Building a future instead of just surviving.
The bell over the door chimed, and I looked up to see Laverne Tidwell sweeping in with her signature red hair teased to impressive heights.
"Dixie Lane!" She descended on me like a sequined tornado. "I was just telling May — I said, 'May, that girl is proof that love finds you when you least expect it.' And who introduced them? Who made sure Hunter's mystery date got the attention she deserved?"
"You did, Mama." May appeared behind her, phone already out. "I quoted you in the anniversary article."
"Anniversary article?"
"For Bitter Tea." May beamed. "The romance of the decade — and Mama's the one who broke the story. She's been reminding everyone in town for months now."
"I'm a matchmaker," Laverne announced, pressing a hand to her chest. "I have an eye for these things. The moment I saw you two at that rehearsal dinner, I knew. Didn't I know, May?"
"You knew, Mama."
"I told everyone at Fringe Benefits — I said, 'Mark my words, that's a love story in the making.' And was I right?"
"You were right, Laverne," I said, because agreeing was always easier than arguing.
"Of course I was." She patted my cheek. "'From Uber to Altar: A Bitter Root Love Story.' May's doing a retrospective. It's going to be huge."
"We're not engaged," I said automatically.
