“It’s Faith. Faith Savannah Shepherd.” She swallows, watching me carefully. “I decided to use my middle name when I moved to Whispers. I wanted to start fresh, to leave the past me behind, and it felt right. I’ve always felt more like a Savannah than a Faith anyway.” She shrugs, and I smile, shaking my head.
“Faith. Savannah. It doesn’t matter, because you will always be my sweetness…”
Smiling, she hums, cuddling against me.
“And you will always be my Grumpy Griff.”
I huff a laugh and pull her close, feeling lighter than I have in years.
37
Savannah
My feet are sore, my hips tight, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“So, we’re out of cupcakes, but we still have some gingerbread left, so that should cover us for the after-school rush.” Melissa walks out to the kitchen, the two of us a little tired after a busy day.
“Great, what about the pastries?” I finish feeding Tommy and fix myself before putting him over my shoulder and tapping his back.
“We have a few left. They’ll go after school too, though. It’s crazy; no matter how much you make, we’re never left with much at closing.” She grins, walking to the coffee maker and putting on a pot.
“I know. It’s great, but so hard to judge what quantities to make.” I frown, thinking about it. I want to be efficient with my time and my ingredients. I could look at freezing more things, but I prefer to have my items sold fresh, straight from the oven that morning. But I already get up at four and I'm here early every day. There’s not too many more hours I could put in to bake things for the shelves.
“I think you could make double and still not have enough. But that’s good. It keeps people wanting more. Gives them the scarcity mindset. That’s why there’s always people here first thing in the morning. They want to be able to grab what they need.”
I stand, placing Tommy down in his bassinet for a moment as I stretch out.
“I guess you’re right.” I ponder over her words. She’s smart, such an asset to me and the business.
“Have you noticed any requests lately? Anything people are asking for that I could add to the daily production?”
Melissa grabs two cups automatically, making me a coffee, not needing to ask. She knows me well by now. She’s like the friend I never knew I needed. Her husband works all day, and I can tell this job gives her a new lease on life. She’s so energetic and genuinely happy to be here in the bakery, which makes my job so much easier.
“Nothing too specific. The older guys always come in wanting a pot pie for dinner on their nights they have to cook.” She huffs a laugh and shakes her head. I’ve come to know Bob from the hardware store and Tim from the toy store well. Clearly, their wives are happy to have them produce a pie for dinner every Thursday night. It’s cute.
“Maybe I need to change the filling. Keep them from having the same things each week.” I grin as she passes me the cup, and we both look up at hearing the front door open.
“Oh, I’ll go,” she tells me, then puts down her cup and walks out the front. I do the same. I’ve been back in the kitchen all day. I miss interacting with people, especially the locals who have been so welcoming.
“Ahh, Savannah?” Melissa’s voice sounds unsure, and I step through the door and look up with a smile, ready to greet our customer, but it falls from my face quickly.
“What are you doing here?” I look at my mother, seeing Eden right by her side. She’s come back with reinforcements. It took her a while. I’m surprised she waited that long.
“You know why we’re here.” My mother’s voice sounds cold and detached. No warmth, no love. Melissa looks between us, a frown on her face. I haven’t had the time or the energy to explain to her about my family. She’s unprepared for this.
“I’m afraid I don’t? Did you need some pastries?” I fold my hands over my chest and try to stand tall.
“We’re here for Joseph,” Eden says, and my eyebrows pinch in confusion.
“Joseph? Who’s Joseph?” Are they meant to be meeting someone?
“The baby. Eden has decided to name him Joseph.”
“Decided to name…?” Melissa trails off, understandably bewildered. But my eyes remain on my mother and my sister. Watching their every move.
“My baby isn’t here,” I emphasize while praying that Tommy stays quiet in his bassinet.
My mother huffs. “Of course he is, we saw you walk in with him this morning. Stop with the lying.”
