“Pretty sure. I left him a voicemail this morning, but I haven’t heard back from him.”
Her eyebrows went up in appreciation. “You have his number? Good for you.”
I sighed. “I used the number for the Sweet Shoppe, so don’t be too impressed. We never got any farther than some basic flirting, that’s all.”
The thing about best friends is that sometimes they know us better than we know ourselves.
Like when we’re not willing to admit the truth. Good best friends let that slide. Great best friends call you on your own denial.
“Riiiiiiight,” Ella said, pursing her lips. “Basic flirting. That’s what it was. Yep.” She leaned over the counter. “I think if I hadn’t opened that freezer door when I did, something in there was going to melt from all the heat being generated.”
I gave her a side-eye glare. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing something useful?” I asked. “Mopping and scrubbing the kitchen, for example.”
I got a huff of dismissal in response. “That place is spotless, and you know it. Let’s get opened, okay?”
Chores done and fresh goodies on display, I walked to the front door, flipped over the OPEN sign, and braced myself for whatever awaited.
To my immense relief, I found a bunch of customers already waiting outside. Their faces lit up as they saw me, and they began to file in eagerly.
“Morning, Ivy! We missed you!” Mrs. Thompson called out, her smile as warm as the morning sun.
“Your cinnamon rolls are just the thing I needed today,” Mr. Hargrove added, his eyes twinkling with delight.
And just like that, as if nothing had changed, the bakery was packed, and it wasn’t just my usual customers. New faces mingled with the familiar ones—perhaps drawn in by the buzz of the wedding the night before or the gorgeous new arch over the street, or maybe they were simply craving the comfort of homemade treats. The display cases were a riot of color and sweetness, filled with cupcakes, cookies, mini pies, cinnamon rolls, sweet breads, and, of course, the coffee bar that always brought in extra foot traffic.
I felt a rush of joy and relief wash over me. The sight of my bakery filled to the brim, the hum of conversation, the clinking of plates and cups—it was everything I loved about this place. It wasn’t just a business… it was a community hub, a little slice of holiday magic where people came to share a moment of happiness. I glanced up at the pictures of my grandmother and great-grandmother on the wall, and felt a deep sense of pride at what they’d accomplished.
At what weallhad accomplished.
Connor’s Sweet Shoppe might have sparked my worries, but today, the bakery was a testament to the love and support of my customers. Whether it was because of the wedding cake or simply because they had missed me, they had come back, and that filled me with a profound sense of gratitude.
“Looks like business is booming,” Ella said with a grin as she handed a customer their order.
“Yeah,” I replied, a smile spreading across my face. “Thank goodness.”
I moved behind the counter, chatting with customers, taking orders, and serving up my beloved pastries and coffees. The bakery buzzed with life, and as I worked, I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of happiness and fulfillment. This was my place, my passion, and seeing it thrive once more was the best feeling in the world.
As the day wound down and the last customer left, I began the familiar routine of closing up the bakery. I flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED and started cleaning up the counter, putting away the very few leftover pastries, and wiping down the surfaces until they gleamed. The bakery was quiet now, a stark contrast to the bustling activity of the day, and I couldn’t help but feel a small pang of disappointment. Despite the busy day and the numerous customers, I hadn’t seen Connor once, and I had to wonder why. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’d peekedout of the bakery’s front window several times, trying to catch a glimpse of him at The Sweet Shoppe. His absence felt like a missing piece in an otherwise perfect day.
Even if he hadn’t wanted to kiss me, but I tried not to think too much about that.
I locked up the bakery and headed to my car, ready to make my way to my family’s house for our traditional Sunday night dinner. As I drove through the quaint streets of Jingle Junction, the twinkling holiday lights and festive decorations reminded me of the magic of this place, and I started to feel a little better.
27
When I arrived at Bell House, the warmth and familiarity of home instantly lifted my spirits. The charming, two-story Victorian’s wraparound porch, always adorned with Christmas lights and a large wreath on the door, had been home from day one and was more welcoming to me today than it had ever been. I could already smell the delicious aroma of a home-cooked meal wafting through the air as I walked up the stairs and stepped inside.
The sounds of laughter and conversation greeted me as I entered. My family was already gathered, and the house felt alive with the love and warmth that only family could provide. I made my way to the dining room, where the table was laden with a feast fit for a holiday celebration.
Dad stood at the head of the table, carving a succulent roast. Fran, meanwhile, bustled around, making sure everyone had a drink and a full plate. My siblings Nick, Eve, Joy, and Star were already seated, their faces glowing with happiness.
“Hey, Ivy!” Nick called out, waving me over. “We were just talking about your amazing cake from the wedding. It was a hit!”
“Yeah, it was beautiful,” Eve added, smiling warmly at me. “You really outdid yourself. I’ll bet you’ll get lots of business from people seeing that one.”
“Thanks, guys,” I said, taking my seat between Joy and Fran. “It was a lot of work, but I’m glad everyone enjoyed it.” I looked around, wondering about my other step-sibling. “Hey, where’s Holly and Max? Aren’t they coming tonight?”
“You didn’t hear?” Fran gushed as I settled in. “They got engaged!”
