But she doesn’t inexplicably wake up and immediately answer all my questions and allay all my fears.
I look up to the ceiling. “I got my miracle seven years ago today. Is it too much to ask for another one for her?”
There’s no response—from heaven or Farmor. Because two miraclesistwo too many, I’m afraid. She stays completely still and silent. And I’m left to my questions, fears, and regrets.
Mom switches places with me around lunchtime. I hope that work will distract me, but the afternoon at the bakery drags. I haven’t seen Hunter after our brief interaction before his run. Lou comes to get the office treats instead of him shortly after I get there. I try to hide my disappointment when she walks in, but I’m sure she notices.
“You’re not allowed home until five thirty,” she announces as she checks out.
“You want me to show up to my party covered in flour, wearing jeans and aMade in Sweden—Just Like Our BunsT-shirt?” I scowl.
“No, I want you to come to your party wearing this.” She lifts the duffel bag she’s carrying and sets it on the bakery counter. “And you can use the bathroom here to freshen up.”
“Do I even want to know what’s in this bag?” I’m scared to look.
“You’ll love it, I promise. I have to go—I have a ton of work to get done since I’m leaving early to decorate and stuff. See you tonight!” She leans across the counter to grab me in a hug.
When I only halfheartedly return it, she puts her hands on my shoulders and pushes me back to look into my face.“I know this party isn’t your favorite thing. But I promise I’m trying to make it something you’ll enjoy,” she says.
“Thank you, Lou.” I summon a smile, knowing she’s really trying her hardest.
Once she’s gone, I busy myself as much as possible at the bakery, cooking and cleaning and organizing, anything to keep from being still too long and letting myself think too much about those months in the hospital when I didn’t know if I would live or die.
Later that afternoon, when Rebecca asks if I want to leave to go get ready for my party, I tell her no, that I’m not allowed home until five thirty, so I let her go instead while I stay to clean up and close for the day. I lock the door and turn up the music, blasting songs to help drown out all the thoughts in my head as I mop and wipe down counters and wash pots and pans.
Once everything is so clean our customers could eat off the floor, I open the duffel bag Lou brought me. Thankfully, she didn’t pack me some sort of slinky dress or sky-high heels. Instead, there is a flowy blouse, my favorite “going out” jeans, and some strappy sandals that are nice but not impossible to walk in, as well as a makeup bag with some of the essentials in it and a straightener for my hair.
I head into the bathroom to change, touch up my makeup, and, after finger combing and trying to remove any stray bits of dough or flour from my hair, restraighten it.
Finally, at five fifteen, I can’t think of anything else to do, and I let myself out of the bakery and head to my car. I’ll be a few minutes early, but she promised it wasn’t a big party, and it isn’t a surprise, so I can’t imagine it will be that big of a deal.
A wolf whistle across the parking lot startles me. I whirl to see Hunter leaning against the driver’s door of his car a dozen stalls down by the loan office, feet crossed at the ankles. He looks like a BMW ad, with his sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, his thick brown hair falling in waves back from his beautiful face, and his tie loosened. He’s ridiculously sexy.
I put one hand on my hip and cock my head. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to catcall a woman?”
“I didn’tcatcallanyone. I merely whistled at a gorgeous girl.”
“I think that’s the definition ofcatcalling.” I’m unable to keep from grinning.
“My bad.”
We watch each other, neither of us moving, and slowly, my smile fades. I admit, “I missed seeing you today.”
I can’t read his expression from this far away, but he seems a little forlorn. “Sorry. You know I would have loved to come over, but it’s been kind of a bad day, and I was totally swamped at work.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I don’t know why we’re having this conversation across the parking lot, practically having to yell to be heard. I want to go to him, but he hasn’t made a move, so I don’t dare.
“You heading home now?” he asks.
I nod. “It’s party time, I guess.”
“Oh, right. Lou told me I better be there by five thirty, or she’ll dump food coloring in my next load of laundry. We better head over if you care about the original color of my clothing at all.”
That surprises a laugh out of me. “She can be so dramatic. It’s notthatbig of a deal.”
“Well, I’d hate to find out if she’s serious or not. I’ll see you there?”
We both get in our cars, and he ends up right behind me as we drive home. I keep looking in my rearview mirror to steal glances at him. His jaw is set, sunglasses shielding his eyes from sight. When we pull into the neighborhood, there are already a bunch of cars in our usual spots: my mom’s, Cameron’s, Talia’s, and one I don’t recognize. We have to park a block away.
