That morning, she’d called Josephine Major to accept the role, and by that afternoon, she had an enormous three-ring binder in her possession and the keys to the community center tucked into her purse.
It seemed strange that Josephine had been so insistent on passing the torch to Faith, considering there were many other capable volunteers in town that might appreciate the opportunity to step up.
Either way, Faith was equally as excited as she was apprehensive. This would be a challenge, but one she was eager to face head on.
In between batches of sweets, she read through the lengthy sections of Josephine’s notes, trying to wrap her head around exactly what was expected of her while her cakes baked in one oven and meringue kisses solidified in the other.
There was a committee meeting scheduled for that Thursday, a meeting Josephine had originally been slated to run. Now that responsibility fell to Faith. When was the last time she’dconducted a meeting or held a gathering? She wasn’t shy by any means, nor did public speaking frighten her in the way that it had rattled Mitch. It was endearing that he’d been intimidated by a classroom of elementary school students, and equally unfortunate that those very children might have exposed him to something.
Faith figured she might have some game-day nerves when the meeting finally rolled around, but for now she focused on the talking points Josephine had meticulously laid out and the preparations ahead.
More than anything, she was excited to host the meeting at a bakery of her own. She loved when every seat was filled, every table abuzz with discussions. She knew almost everyone on the roster, so the whole getting to know you awkwardness wouldn’t be a factor. No need for icebreakers. They’d be able to get right down to business.
“I hope this will make you proud,” Faith murmured to herself, flipping through the pages as she envisioned her father peering over her shoulder the way he would when she was a young girl. Since she was homeschooled and their house was what a realtor would classify as quaint, her mother set up Faith’s school station at the kitchen table, the only one available. Often, Faith would still be hunched over the big, scarred oak table when her father would return home from the bakery. He always smelled of sugar and cinnamon, and he would quietly stand at her back to review her day’s work.
She had wanted him to be proud of her straight A record back then, and even now she felt a nostalgic longing for his praise. He was never stingy with it, always cheering on her successes and consoling her in times of failure. She missed him more and more by the day and wondered if that grief would ever subside. She often felt like it was there to stay forever.
Around two that the afternoon, Faith moved her binder aside to focus on her bakery. Inevitably, there was always a rush right when the school bells rang. Moms with little ones were the first to arrive, followed by the crush of teenagers that were dismissed a half hour later from the high school just up the road.
While morning customers typically helped Faith sell out of her pastries—the cinnamon rolls, the scones, the muffins, and croissants—the afternoon clientele enjoyed more sugary snacks. Cupcakes were hands-down the favorite among the toddler and elementary aged crowd, while the high school students tended to purchase things that were what Faith considered grab-and-go. Cookies, brownies, and bars flew off the shelves. She knew several of the older kids came by her bakery before heading to Bitter Cold to hunker down and study, and she thought nothing was better fuel for an afternoon of productivity than a little sweet-treat pick-me-up.
And today, the trio that kicked off the rush held a very special place in her heart.
“Faith!” Cadee and Connor squealed the instant Faith’s mom pulled on the handle to open the door for the children. They were all bundled up in their matching winter gear, Cadee in purple and Connor in green like always. The twins rushed into the bakery like a whirlwind, sending the ends of their scarves whipping out behind them like the tails on a kite.
“Kiddos!” Bounding around the counter, Faith crouched down just in time to catch her beloved siblings in her open arms. “I was hoping I’d get to see you two today.” She deposited a kiss on her sister’s sweet crown of blonde waves, then bopped noses with her little brother, his preferred display of affection. She struggled to her feet; Cadee’s arms were still wrapped around her neck like a monkey dangling from a tree. “Hey, Mom.” Faith turned her cheek toward her mom for a kiss.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
Margot Porter was a beautiful woman with an elegance Faith had not inherited and tried hard not to be jealous of. She knew deep down the true source of her mother’s beauty was her kindness, her love, and her resilience. She had overcome so much in her life, and never once faltered or complained, only persevered. She was clothed in grace and carried herself with quiet strength, two things Faith lacked. Faith was far from graceful, and no one ever accused her of being quiet, but she hoped some of her mother’s tenacity and determination had managed to funnel down into her branch of the family’s tree.
Cadee finally loosened her grip and slid down Faith’s side, her bright purple tennis shoes lighting up when the soles met the ground. Oh, to have such flashy, stylish shoes. Faith sometimes wished they were around when she was a kid. She would have loved those.
Darting back behind the counter, she popped open the pastry case. She knew her siblings orders by heart. Strawberries and cream cupcake with rainbow sprinkles for Cadee, and the peanut butter cupcake with Nutella frosting and chocolate sprinkles for Connor. Same thing every time.
Faith carefully nestled the cupcakes into their individual boxes, knowing the twins would have to resist their temptation until they got home to indulge. Then, instead of securing the flaps with one of her bakery’s stickers like she did for her other customers, she stretched over the counter onto her tiptoes to hand them directly to Connor and Cadee. They always loved to wear the stickers on their clothing, calling them their “bakery badges.”
Cadee peeled the backing off and pressed the sticker to her puffy jacket while Connor smacked it onto the tail end of his green and yellow striped scarf. “Thank you, sissy,” Cadee and Connor trilled in unison.
Despite being just four years old, they already had the basics of politeness and courtesy down pat. But Faith wasn’t surprised. Manners were always a big deal in the Porter household.
“You’re so welcome, sweet siblings of mine.” Even though her mom would protest, Faith slipped two M&M cookies into the same bag that she’d stacked the packaged cupcakes in. Her mom would say the extra sugar wasn’t necessary, but the woman had once married a baker, after all. All of her concerns about sweets were purely for show.
“Mom, what can I get you today?” Faith propped her elbows onto the counter to remain closer to eye level with her brother and sister, even though she’d directed the question at her mother.
“Are you really not going to address the elephant in the room?” Margot asked as if Faith had some mind reading power she wasn’t aware of.
“Elephant?” Connor’s exclamation reached decibels only the pups down at the animal shelter could hear. “There’s anelephantin here?” The boy spiraled around so frantically he did a full one-eighty, searching out the place for the elusive zoo creature.
“It’s a figure of speech,” Faith attempted to explain, but it obviously didn’t translate because Cadee blinked up with a blank look on her face, all while Connor continued scouring the room for the misplaced pachyderm.
“It’s just something adults say when something very big and very obvious is being ignored,” Margot Porter explained to her little ones while her eyes remained trained on Faith. “Are we really not going to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” Faith didn’t have the foggiest clue what her mother could be referring to. She doubted she’d heard of Faith’s recent role as chairperson for the soiree already, and other than that, Faith had woefully little going on in her life.
“Were you just going to keep the fact that Anthony is back in town to yourself? Not only back butliving with you. Don’t you think that’s something a mother should know?”
Faith wasn’t a child. She didn’t owe her mother any explanation. But they did have the sort of relationship where she would typically share this information. Truthfully, she’d just been too busy with the bakery—and now the soiree—to even give it a second thought.
