Page 14 of Against the Autumn Pines
Grandpa and I had been cooking together since I was old enough to step up on a step stool myself and knew fire was hot. He’d taught me everything he knew, but I felt as if this was important to him.
He nodded. “I’d love that, doll. Let’s start with her cinnamon roll recipe. It was perfect. One of her favorites.”
I’d wokenup sore as fuck and had never felt better about it. I genuinely didn’t even recognize myself in the mirror this morning. The woman looking back was fiery and spirited in a way I’d never felt before. Running through the woods and fucking a stranger had genuinely made me feel more free than anything ever had before.
I’d gotten home last night and rinsed off in the shower before sitting down and taking a long bubble bath, so while I was sore this morning, I was thankful I’d soaked before hopping into bed last night.
My coffee had just finished brewing when my phone started vibrating. I glanced down, confused to see it was my accountant calling me. I picked it up, clicking it on speaker phone while I dished CC out his food.
“Hello?”
“Good morning, is this Ms. Brady speaking?” a feminine voice asked through the phone.
“It is, yes. Is everything okay?” I couldn’t imagine why my accountant would be calling me this early in the morning. We really only chatted when I needed to get my tax paperwork together, or when I wanted to upgrade something in Buns of Delight, and I needed to ensure the funds were good.
“Yes, I just spoke with Pam. She works in the fraudulent charges department of your bank, and I was calling because they’ve noticed some odd charges on your account that they wanted to confirm with us before moving forward.” My heart rate sped up as the world started spinning slightly off kilter. My first worry was that this damn sex app had hacked my card and stolen my money, only they didn’thavemy card info. Then she started rambling off about how someone was trying to open up a new credit card in my name, and they’d shut that down, so they were applying for a loan now?
By the end of the call, all my accounts were frozen while theydid a deep dive into what was going on. I hung up the phone, trying not to panic or worry. I wasn’t sure what half the shit she said meant. It almost sounded as if she was saying someone was trying tostealmy identity, and I just didn’t understand one bit how that had happened or was happening at this moment.
I forced myself through the motions of getting ready for the day, guzzling more coffee than was probably healthy at this point, but fuck it.
Two hours into my morning—making fresh bread, bagels, the works—my phone started ringing again. Only this time it was one of my delivery guys. I let out a deep breath and tried to sound like my normal chipper self.
“Good morning, Matt, what’s up?” I asked.
“Hey Ember, I’m sorry to call so early, but I figured with the bakery and all that you’d be used to the early calls,” Matt said, his voice sounding a bit off from his normal cheery tone.
“It’s fine, Matt, don’t worry about it. Is everything okay?” I tried not to sound impatient, but it had already been a fucking morning, and my tolerance was feeling a bit low.
“Yeah…well, no actually. I, uh, went to charge you for this afternoon’s delivery, and it didn’t go through. So I was just wondering if there were any issues or…” his voice trailed off, and I leaned against the counter, setting my phone down and letting out a deep and slow breath.
“Yeah, Matt, I’m sorry. The bank called me earlier, and they were having some issues with my accounts, so it’s locked down. I just didn’t think about it affecting my business account too.” I stared at the floor beneath my feet. The dark wood I’d spent hours staining to match the natural wood of the walls, to complement the exposed brick of the building. The blood, sweat, and tears I’d put into this place.This felt like someone was trying to attack it from the inside out. As if someone were trying to attackme.
I looked around at the dimly lit space. My potted plants and hanging ivy along the ceiling banisters. The fairy lights I’d spent hours hanging just right. The mismatched chairs and tables that I thought added a bit of whimsical vibes to the place. Matt’s voice brought me back to the call I was on, and I tried to shake away the uneasy feeling in my gut.
“Ahh fucking banks. I’m sorry Ember. Look, I’ll still bring by your delivery this afternoon. We’ve been working together long enough that I know you’re good for it. Just let me know when it’s fixed up and I’ll run the invoice.” I found myself nodding as I blinked back tears that were determined to form in my eyes.
“Thank you, Matt. I’ll see you later,” I said through thick emotions. We hung up after saying our goodbyes, and I lowered myself to the ground and allowed myself two solid minutes to cry.
Two minutes, and then I had a bakery to open and a business to run.
The day had flownby in a whirlwind. Matt, good on his word, had delivered my basic ingredients for the week. I ordered flour, sugar, coffee beans, and so on from him, while I purchased other stuff—peppers, berries, cream cheese, and so on—as locally as possible at the farmers’ markets. Customers liked knowing things were local and in season when they were eating it. The whole farm-to-table aspect made me more appealing.
I was doing my best during my slow momentsthroughout the day to call my bank and find out what the fuck was going on.
My personal account being frozen? Infuriating but manageable for a bit.
My business account? I think the fuck not.
The last person at the bank mentioned calling the police and filing a report of identity theft. I didn’t think it held much merit until I had two back-to-back calls from debt collection agencies, and another call from my accountant telling me someone had taken out multiple large loans with my identity.
How we’d all managed to miss that was beyond me, but that was an issue for another time. I was digging through some of my banking paperwork, trying to find a new number to call, when two of my favorite customers walked in.
Aspen and Ivy were two of the sweetest women I’d ever met. They were loyal customers, always good for a laugh and a smile. Truly, if I had time for friends, they would easily be two of them. But as they approached the counter, I tried to put on my best fake smile because that was what I did best—faked it.
Stress? Never met her.
Lack of sleep? She wasn’t welcome here.
