As much as she had wanted the rom-com to distract her from her own life, it only reflected just how lonely she actually was, leaving her feeling empty despite a stomach full of apple pie. With only a fork full of pie left and the end of the movie playing mindlessly in the background, she closed her eyes and fell asleep, dreaming of what her life might be like if it were a rom-com. Yet, what lay ahead was far from a Hallmark happy ending.
Chapter Two
Horoscopes and Pie Crumbs
The next morning, Nora woke up slumped over on the couch, her head resting in the empty pie tin among the crumbs, as her phone’s alarm blared. She fumbled to pick it up from the couch and stopped the noisy alarm, then tossed the phone back down, resting her head back against the sofa.
After sitting there a long while, still half asleep, she finally stood up and wandered into the kitchen. She turned on the coffee pot and settled down at the table, switching her phone back on. It was her morning ritual to check her email, scroll through Instagram for a few minutes, and then read her daily horoscope while she waited for her coffee to brew.
She found six new emails, three announcing online sales,two bills, and lastly, a message from her doctor’s office reminding her she needed to schedule her yearly physical. It was hard for her to admit, but even after two years, she still hoped there might be an email from Sam. Spurred on by the Hallmark movie she had watched last night, the hope was fleeting, not based in reality at all. Trying to push away the unwanted thoughts of him she tapped on her horoscope app and delved into her daily prediction, hoping it might tell her she would be winning the lottery today.
“Capricorn, things may not go as planned today but keep heart that the universe is always moving you in the right direction. Stay your course and new opportunities will arise,” she read aloud. “Well, that seems like a nice way to say you’re about to have a shit day. Perfect!” she muttered to herself as she got up and poured a cup of coffee.
She felt like her sign did not fit her personality at all. Capricorns were supposed to be strong-willed and fiercely driven by their career goals, and here she was at twenty-nine, still grappling with the question of what career path to pursue. The idea of becoming a therapist had crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed it, realizing she didn’t have her own life sorted out enough to offer advice to others. Nursing had been appealing once, inspired by her grandmother’s legacy, but her mother had steered her toward business instead, hoping it would help her one day when she took over the bakery. So, that’s what she had majored in, even though it hadn’t sparked the least bit of passion in her. Nothing had ever felt like quite the right fit for her.
The clock on the stove read eight thirty.Shit, she had less than a half hour to get ready and hit the road. She took her coffee into her bedroom and peeled off yesterday’s clothes. Moving aside her notebooks, she rooted through the stacks of clothes sitting on top of her dresser and opted for a pair of her favorite jeans, acream-colored thermal shirt, and an oversized evergreen cable-knit sweater that hung loose on her petite frame.
The night spent sleeping on the couch had left her feeling extra groggy. She had puttered around, and now there was no time for a shower. Instead, she quickly washed her face, applied a quick bit of mascara overtop her blue eyes, and ran her fingers through her long auburn hair. As her fingers traveled halfway down her long wavy locks, they encountered the last bite of apple pie she hadn’t finished before falling asleep the night before.
“Crap,” she cursed as she attempted to rinse out the crystallized sugar from her hair in the sink.
After spending about five minutes picking out pieces of pie crust and bits of apple, she quickly inspected herself in the mirror. Despite her attempts at cleaning herself up, she still looked like she had pulled an all-nighter.
Dashing into the kitchen she pulled on her boots and jacket, then grabbed her coffee, keys, and bag from the table and headed out the door in a rush.
It had snowed most of the night, leaving the world looking like something straight out of a Christmas card. Nora loved the first heavy snowfall of the year; it was always so magical how the world transformed from a mix of grays and browns to a beautiful fantasy world of shimmery white.A snow globe day, she could hear her grandmother say in the back of her mind as she always had on mornings like these, and it brought a smile to her face.
She brushed the snow off the railing that led from the house down the walkway to the parking area. To her surprise, not only had her small walkway been shoveled and her driveway plowed but her car had been cleared off as well.
“Thank you, Dad!” she said as she jumped in and started her car. She had almost forgotten that it had snowed last night, and ifhe hadn’t helped her out, she would have been more than just a few minutes late. Even though the gesture was sweet and much appreciated on a morning like this, Nora couldn’t help but feel like it was just another thing that made her feel less like an adult. Her father still cleaned off her car and shoveled her driveway. These were tasks she would have taken care of herself if she were living on her own. She tried to push away the angst and be grateful for the help, but as she pulled out of the driveway, her stomach stayed knotted up.
It didn’t take long before Mother Nature distracted her from her thoughts though. The drive to the bakery was magical on mornings like this. The snow had coated every inch of the trees and shrubs, painting the world in a glittery white. The evergreen boughs weighed down with snow almost touched the ground, and the morning sun lit the crystals in the air like tiny specks of magic. The roads had been plowed but still sported a thin layer of snow, and the only visible pavement was from the tire tracks from the morning traffic.
“Under a snowy vale, there lies a hush so deep, in winter’s grip, the world’s asleep,” she muttered to herself as she drove.
Nora enjoyed creating poems or songs as a kind of outlet she often turned to when alone. It had been a suggestion from a friend after her grandmother’s death, a way to process her feelings. It seemed like a good fit as she had always enjoyed writing and had kept journals since she was a child. She had taken the suggestion and to this day still practiced it as a way to deal with emotions. However, inspiration often struck at the most inconvenient moments, like when she was driving in her car, so she would mutter them aloud, releasing them into the universe, trusting they would return to her when she had a pen and paper in hand.
It was nine on the dot when she pulled into her parking spot.When she entered the bakery, her mother tossed her an apron and motioned for her to wash her hands and get to work. Nora poked her head around the corner and looked into the front of the shop. The bakery was packed with people, and it looked like they had already sold out of the cinnamon rolls and scones she had pre-made the night before.
“Why’s it so busy?” she asked her father as she took off her jacket and tied the apron around her waist.
“Unexpected holiday tour bus. I guess this place made it on the list of most quaint hometown bakeries to visit during the holidays on some online blog,” her father told her as he loaded the oven with a tray of ginger cookies.
Nora always loved the smell of the bakery this time of year. The cinnamon, ginger, and allspice mixed with the sweet undertones of sugar and dough made it feel like the holidays. She began mixing up another batch of cinnamon rolls when her mother came back to grab a tray of scones to refill the cases out front.
“Mom, do you want me to take over out there?” Nora asked, seeing the stress creasing her mother’s face.
“No, I’m fine. Just help your father,” she yelled back as she walked out of the room.
Nora looked over at her father. “I don’t get why she doesn’t want my help. She could take a break and let me help once in a while.”
“You know your mother, and ‘break’ is not a word in her vocabulary,” her father said, trying to ease the tension. He was the peacemaker in the family and Nora’s biggest supporter.
Her mother and she had never been particularly close in the past. It wasn’t that they had a bad relationship or even a strained one; they simply didn’t have much in common. They were like oil and water, always coexisting but never quite getting closeenough to understand one another. Nora was a daydreamer like her father, always with her head in the clouds overthinking while her mother’s feet were planted firmly on the ground.
“You know, you could always just go out there and help,” her father said, giving her a wink.
Nora gave him a nod and a smile as she untied her apron and headed toward the front of the shop. Just as she was about to enter, she heard a familiar voice, and it stopped her in her tracks. It was her high school science teacher, Mrs. Conroy. Nora rested herself against the wall next to the door to eavesdrop. She knew if she stepped out, she would be stuck there talking to her for an hour.
