Juliette
“Good morning,”I say as I quickly pop into the bakery.
It’s my day off, and I’m meeting Adriana, a friend from The City Ballet, for a walk in the park. But first, I wanted to stop in to ensure everything was going smoothly.
Often, I worry about Mom and Alice’s niece, Daphne, who steps up to help on my days off. Like me, she’s not classically trained and has skills I haven’t mastered yet, so I’m excited she’s working for us.
Mom, on the other hand, doesn’t love the idea. She sees her as a replacement, but Daphne is an asset and a phenomenal baker. I just need Mom to change her view.
“How’s everything going, Alice?”
She looks up, and her face is full of worry. “What’s wrong?” My stomach plummets.
“Your mom’s not having a good morning, Jules, and she won’t take help from anyone.”
My heart breaks a little. “What’s she making?”
“Earlier, she made cupcakes, which you know she hates, so it set her in a mood. Now she’s piping out the macarons, but squeezing the bag is giving her a lot of trouble.”
Oh, do I ever.
My mother is mostly reasonable. However, there is one thing she loathes most in the world, and she makes it known any chance she gets—baking desserts that aren’t gourmet.
For example…cupcakes.
But, considering we’re on the path to not one but two popular private schools in New York City, it made sense for the business. All the kids love the addition, doubling our clientele.
“Okay, thanks for letting me know, Alice.”
I walk in the back to French jazz blasting loudly through the speakers and observe Mom without her hearing me enter. I glance at Daphne, and she gives me a sad smile, then returns to work.
Mom’s face is pinched as her hands shake violently. I can only imagine the pain she’s in. She still has some good days, but what I’m witnessing now only reminds me that the bad now outweighs the good, and her time in the back baking with us is dwindling.
The second I see a tear stream down her face, I quietly rush to her and take the piping bag out of her hands. After placing it on the counter, I turn and wordlessly pull her in my arms, hugging her tightly until I feel her breathing calm.
No words are exchanged; if she wants to talk about it, she will.
When I step back, she looks down, and I know something else is up. “What’s wrong, Mom?”
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “The building management called for a meeting. They want you to call them back.”
This is what has her so worried?
“No, Mom, don’t worry. I called them for the meeting.” When she looks at me confused, I continue, “Our main goal is to stay here, but we both know we need a miracle. I’m trying to figure something out. Before we start making any decisions, I want to ensure I exhaust all my options with management first.”
She pulls me in for another hug. “My love,” she whispers. “Strong and smart, just like your father.”
I step back and beam. “That’s the best compliment you could ever give me.”
She smiles warmly, then pushes me toward the exit. “Now, off you go. It’s your day off. Daphne can help me with the rest.”
I duck under her arm, quickly sticking my finger in the leftover cupcake batter, and moan in delight. God, that’s freaking delicious.
“Is that chocolate with orange blossom?” I try and stick my finger in again, but Mom swats my hand. “Hey,” I protest. “That was going in the garbage anyway.”
“Stop contaminating my kitchen, and of course it is. It’s one of your favorites.” She kisses my cheek and pushes me toward the door.
“Call me if you need anything at all.” I pause at the door, “And go ice your hands, please.”
