My phone vibrates with a text from Winnie.
Winnie: Heard about the fire. Are you okay?
Just seeing her name on my screen loosens the knots inside.
Me: I’m fine. Long night.
Winnie: Do you need anything?
Me: Just you.
I send it before I can overthink it, and her response comes immediately.
Winnie: I’m here. Whenever you need me.
“You’re smiling at your phone,” Scotty observes. “That’s new.”
I grumble at him.
“Is that Winnie?”
“Maybe.”
“Definitely.” He chortles. “Man, you’ve got it bad.”
I do. And it terrifiesme.
The next weekis a rush of preparation. The bakery’s grand opening is on Saturday and every waking moment is consumed by last-minute details, including hanging the menu board and other signage, preparing the coffee station, and managing the point of sale program.
But Winnie marks every moment of it.
She stops by the bakery with the final permit, which should be a moment to celebrate. Instead, she stays to help arrange tables. She texts me photos of display case trays she found online. She shows up with a hug before work because she knows I’ve been here since dawn.
“You don’t have to do this,” I tell her.
“I know.” She hands me a coffee because the company providing our brewing units forgot to pack the filter baskets, which are now on back order. “But I want to.”
“Why?”
She looks at me like the answer should be obvious. “Because this matters to you, so it matters to me.”
And just like that, I’m falling harder.
We hustle in the coming days, baking well into the night, and are back early the next day for the grand opening. On the upside, the guys and I are adapted to working late shifts, so the odd hours aren’t anything new. Though we’ve taken Scotty and Hayes off baking duty. The Lumberjack overcooks everything. Handsome leaves everything underdone.
Saturday morning arrives with unseasonably warm weather and a clear sky. Yet my nerves are like charcoal briquettes.
“You look like you’re about to blow a gasket.” Scotty assembles the custom pastry box sticker dispenser.
James adjusts the ‘Crush Cakes’ banner above the door.
“Feel like it too.”
“It’s a bakery opening, not a five-alarm fire.”
“Iknow that.”
“Then why are you reorganizing the napkin dispensers for the third time?”
