Page 67 of Spicy or Sweet
“Can I ask you something?” I whispered to Rora so no one would overhear us yesterday, standing outside the burning bakery.
“Of course.”
“When you found out you were pregnant, and you knew you’d have to cut back on traveling—even though it’s what you’ve always wanted to do—were you…”
“Relieved? God, yes. Chasing your dreams isn’t a life sentence, Noelle. If you don’t like how it feels when you’re living it, you can change the dream.”
“But baking is all I’ve ever dreamed of.”
“So bake. My dreams changed when I met Henry, when I got pregnant. I still want to travel, but I want to do it with them. You can still bake without owning a bakery you’re not happy in.”
She made it sound so simple. But maybe it is. It’s hard to imagine who I could be without the dream I’ve been clinging to for the best part of thirty years, but wouldn’t it be fun to find out?
The thought of my life burning to the ground, of being forced to start from scratch, should be devastating. But I’ve spent so long toiling over my feelings for the bakery—the resentment, the guilt, the disappointment. Something about breathing in the smoke and watching the source of those feelings burn made everything so much clearer.
I look up as Shay drops a blanket around my shoulders and sits in the spot beside me.
“How did you get here before me when I drove?”
“Long legs,” I reply, passing her a cup from The Frosty Bean. I was ready before her this morning, so I decided to walk and pick up coffee on the way. Living in Wintermore, it’s easy to take the fresh mountain air for granted, but I’ve found myself wanting to spend more time outside since the fire.
“They’re good legs,” Shay says before sipping the peppermint mocha and sighing. She hums at the taste. “It’s like Christmas in a cup.” She squints up at the gray sky. “It’s starting to look like it, too. I swear it feels like if you blink, you miss fall here.”
“I was just thinking that. We probably have a week at most before the first wave of tourists rolls in.”
“Already? God. It sneaks up on me every year.”
“I used to count down the days,” I tell her, smiling. “As stressful as running the toy store at Christmas was, I thrived. I woke up every day excited to go to work. Don’t get me wrong, I was pissed as all hell at Felix because I wanted my bakery, but I was still happy.”
“Do you think you’ll go back now?”
Shay looks surprised when I shake my head.
“I don’t have a place there anymore. I’m sure I’ll help for a few days just before Christmas; everyone chips in then, but Felix has everything under control. Or Abigail does, and he’s just doing as he’s told.” It hurts less than I thought it would, realizing I’m not needed at The Enchanted Workshop right now. There’sno Enchanted Bakery to need me anymore. For the first time in a long time, I’m technically not needed. I know I’ll grow tired of it, but it feels nice for now.
“How are you feeling about the bakery?” Shay asks. “Do you think you’re going to reopen?”
“I feel… relieved. And I feel guilty for feeling relieved, because I appreciate how much support everyone has given me, and I know people are losing their jobs, but I’m not happy. So, no, I’m not reopening.” Saying it feels better than the first gulp of fresh air after getting out of the smoke. It’s like the weight of the world just falls off my shoulders with three words: “I’m not reopening.”
I know there’s more to it than just saying the words—I still own the building, and I have to figure out what I’m going to do with the charred remains of the bakery, but that’s a job for once we know what caused the fire, and once I know what my insurance is going to cover.
“I’m proud of you,” Shay says, winding her arms around me and kissing my temple. “You don’t have to feel guilty, but I know that’s easier said than done. You made something amazing with The Enchanted Bakery, but if you’re not happy, then it’s time to move on. Do you know what you might want to do next?”
“I want to bake,” I confirm. That’s the one thing I don’t have to wonder about. “I wouldn’t even mind running the kitchen side of a bakery, I just don’t want to do it all, you know? The café side, the admin, the people-ing. I don’t know, I guess I’ll keep an eye on jobs in Jackson. The commute isn’t ideal, but I’ll figure it out.”
Shay hums, and, when I look her over, she looks nervous.
“What?” I ask.
“I have a suggestion. And you can say no—there’s no pressure either way.”
“Alright.”
She takes a deep breath. “I really liked working together on the movie. And, as far as I can tell, you did too.”
“I did.”
“Exactly. You want to bake more, and I want to interact with people more. We know we work well together, so… Why don’t we work together?”
