Page 1 of Holiday at Home
1
Violet
Flames leap from the pastry oven and lick up the kitchen walls. The fire alarm screams to life, shrill, blaring, insistent. My heart thunders against my ribs. Fire multiplies exponentially, a flickering, snapping dragon devouring my bakery.
I stand in shock, watching the flames creep closer, closer, closer…
“Vi?”
My twin sister Nora calls my name, watching me with concern.
“Everything okay?” she asks. “You got real quiet all of a sudden.”
I blink back to life and take in my surroundings.
No flames. No fire. Not even a hint of smoke.
Just my imagination running away with me.
Again.
I run a hand through my auburn hair, blowing breath past my lips. “Yeah. Oh yeah, I’m fine. Just, um…”
“Imagining the absolute worst that could happen today?” Nora drops one hand on her six-year-old son’s head, ruffling his dark hair. Nash leans into his mom and rubs his tired little eyes. Baker’s hours aren’t for the faint of heart.
I shake off the remnants of the intrusive thoughts, then nod and shrug. “Pretty much.”
My twin’s knowing smile is exactly what I needed. It’s why, when she offered to fly in with her husband and son to support me for the grand reopening, I didn’t put up much of a fight. My anxiety can get on top of me—now more than ever before—and Nora’s grounding energy is guaranteed to root me in reality rather than doom loops.
“Look at this place, Vi. You took everything Sterling’s Bakery used to be and put your own personal spin on it. It’s a fitting tribute to Mom and Dad, but it’s alsoyoursnow. You’re so, so gonna rock this, and Nash and I will be here, cheering you on the whole way. I’m sure they are, too.”
I bring in a deep breath, close my eyes, and hope she’s right.
The gingerbread cookies are gingered. Icing drips off the cinnamon rolls. The sugar cookies are decorated in brightly colored icing. A Christmas tree stands in one corner of the seating area and lights twinkle in the front window of Sterling’s—the bakery my parents opened when they were newly married. The place I’ve worked my entire life. The business I always knew I’d inherit one day.
Just… not this day.
Not for many, many, many more days.
I straighten a snowman figurine on the counter and tug on his tiny bow tie. “Are you sure? Do you think Mom and Dad would be okay with what I’ve done?”
Elizabeth, the one baker I could afford to keep on, peeks her head out of the kitchen, her thick, gray hair slung over a shoulder in a long braid. “Your mama and daddy would bethrilled to see what you’ve done with their place. They are certainly proud of you.”
Sterling’s has been a staple in Stillwater Bay from the moment it opened. Customers would line up each morning to grab their favorite treat before it sold out. And it wasn’t just the pastry that brought people in. Mom and Dad knew each person who walked through the door and talked to them like the friends they were. Between Mom’s baking skills, Dad’s business acumen, and a special gift for connecting with people, they turned Sterling’s into the heartbeat of our small town.
Nora and I basically grew up here, helping in age-appropriate ways as the years passed. The assumption was that we’d inherit the place and run it ourselves, but Nora married Robbie right out of high school and, when he joined the Navy, off they went, leaving me here to work with Mom and Dad.
Mom always had this place decorated to the nines the weekend after Thanksgiving, Christmas music and all. Even though I’m not exactly drenched in holiday spirit this year, I did my best to honor that tradition.
I drew a line at the music, though, which is weird. I adore Christmas music.
Just…
…not this year.
“What if no one comes?” I ask. “What if two months of being closed was too long, and everybody forgot about us? What if—with the Christmas tree-lighting celebration in Town Square today—everyone’s over there, and no one’s here?”
A silly question, because I chose to reopen on the first of December specifically to coincide with the tree-lighting ceremony, but since when does anxiety listen to reason?
