"Every morning, it’s part of the fun."
I watch her work. Measuring flour and sugar. Mixing dough with practiced efficiency. She's done this thousands of times but there's still care in every movement.
"You love this," I say.
"What?"
"The shop. Making donuts. All of it."
She looks up. "Yeah. I do."
"It shows."
Something soft crosses her face. "Thanks."
I start on the fryer while she preps the dough. We fall into rhythm. She calls out what's ready, I fry it. Transfer to cooling racks. Start the next batch.
The work is meditative. Physical. Exactly what I need after yesterday's emotional intensity.
By six, the display case is half full and the shop smells like sugar and hot oil. Callie unlocks the front door. Flips the sign to open.
The first customer walks in at six-oh-five.
I work the register while Callie handles the kitchen. More customers filter in. Morning regulars who know what they wantbefore they reach the counter. I take orders and box donuts and make change.
"You're new," a woman says as I hand her a bag.
"Just helping out."
"Well, you're doing great. Tell Callie I said hi."
"Will do."
The rush continues until seven-thirty. Then it slows. Just a few stragglers. I'm wiping down the counter when the door chimes.
Luke.
He stops when he sees me behind the register. "Well, this is new."
"Callie needed help."
"Uh-huh." He grins. "And you just happened to be available."
"Something like that."
He orders coffee and two glazed donuts. I pour the coffee and box the donuts. He pays. Takes his order to a corner table.
Callie emerges from the kitchen. Sees Luke. Her expression shifts to something careful.
"Hey," she says.
"Hey. Came for breakfast, hope that's okay."
"Of course it's okay. It's your sister's shop."
"Yeah, but..." He glances between us. "Things are different now. Didn't want to intrude."
"You're not intruding," I tell him.
