“I can’t wait to start a family with you,” I whisper as we lie cuddled in each other’s arms.
“How about right now?” he asks, rolling back on top of me and making me giggle. After two seconds, I’m no longer giggling. I’m lost in him all over again.
I don’t know where our future will lead us, but I know we’re doing it together. As long as we have each other, we’ll always find a way.
Copyright 2020 by Alexis Winter - All rights reserved.
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One
Violet
It’s still dark as I let myself into the Bean and Bun, a bakery I own here in Grand Lake, Colorado. Even though it’s early summer, the nights and early mornings are still cold. The sky above me is pitch black. Only the big moon and the millions of tiny stars to light my way. A shiver runs through me as I twist the key, unlocking the door.
I step inside the small space. It’s warm and comforting and still smells of sweetness from the day before. I swear, if I could magically bottle this scent, it would sell out in a heartbeat. I lock the door behind me and head to the back to get started.
In the kitchen, I flip the light on, and it’s so bright that it momentarily blinds me. I have to blink several times before my vision comes into focus. I set my things down and grab my apron. I tie it around my waist and then start gathering all the needed supplies. I turn the ovens and fryers on, letting them preheat. Turning the radio on and washing my hands, I get started.
This part of the day is more like a race. I don’t have time to stop and mess around. I don’t have time for mistakes. I’ve been doing this for a couple of years now and have the routine down pat. I start with the things that take longer, such as cinnamon rolls, and work my way to the easier things, such as donuts. While one bakes or fries, I take the other out of the displace case and iced them.
It takes over two hours to refill the display cases, but that doesn’t mean that I’m done. No, I have to make backups to replace what are sold out of the cases. At this point, I know exactly how many of everything to make—not considering a sudden rush—so most of the time, the day’s waste isn’t much, if anything. There are times, however, that I find myself struggling to make more of something. After I’ve stocked up, I get to the orders that have been placed for special pickups, things such as birthday cakes, cupcakes for office parties, and pre-packaged donuts for the local police force.
Before I know it, it’s six a.m. Time to open the doors. I head back out and unlock the door, turning on the open sign. Then, I move behind the register to get it going for the day. As usual, my employee, Jane, is running late. She comes rushing through the door like she sprinted the whole way.
“I’m so sorry! I overslept…again.”
I smile. “It sounds like you need to get a louder alarm clock,” I reply, tapping my code into the register.
Her brows draw together. “I’ve tried everything under the sun. It’s like I just tune everything out. Someone could probably get murdered in the apartment above me and I wouldn’t know what was going on.”
I laugh at her joke. “You’re fine, Jane. I expect it at this point.”
She ties her apron around her waist dejectedly. “I know. You just have so much on your plate already with baking everything. I feel like I’m letting you down.”
I turn to face her, putting my hands on the tops of her shoulders. “You’re fine. You do way more around here then you give yourself credit for.”
One side of her mouth lifts up into a smile. “Thanks. I don’t know what I did to deserve a boss like you, but I sure am lucky I found you. You wouldn’t imagine how many jobs I’ve been fired from because of this weird sleep problem of mine.”
I giggle. “I can only imagine.”
I release her and turn around to fill a bucket full of soapy water, then go to wipe down all the tables. This is something that gets done every night, but I’m a freak about having my place spotless.
As I’m wiping down a table, the door opens and in walks Sheriff Moore. “Mornin’, Sheriff.” I greet him with a smile.
“Good mornin’, Violet. How are the donuts today?” he asks, walking up to the counter where Jane is already setting down his typical order.
“Better than yesterday, if I do say so myself,” I say, a little smugly.
He chuckles. “I couldn’t imagine that, but I’ll take your word for it.” He pays for his donuts and turns for the door. “Have a good day.”
“You too. Stay safe,” I reply.
With a town this small, I know each person that comes in and what their order will be. I greet them all with a smile and exchange pleasant chit-chat. There’s nothing ever surprising here, and I enjoy that aspect. I guess many people wouldn’t like the monotony of a place like this, but it comforts me in a way I can’t explain. Growing up like I did, I didn’t always have the most stable life. I was raised in a single-parent household. My father held in strong and raised me as best he could—as well as any drug addict could, I guess. But my life was anything but stable. He was always losing jobs because he couldn’t pass a drug test. We moved around a lot and were homeless on more than one occasion. He loved me, though, and I was always his top priority, even above his drug use. I’d seen him go through withdrawals many times because he chose to buy me dinner instead of getting himself another fix. So, to be blatantly honest, I’ve been taking care of myself for longer than any other person my age. I saw the way I was raised, and I swore that I’d never let my life turn out like that. In fact, I still dream of finding Mr. Right and raising a family the correct way, not anything like the way I was raised. I want to do it right. But again, in a town this small, Mr. Right is hard to come by.
The door opens again, and Jane is taking out the trash, so I take my place behind the register. A little girl with long dark curls runs up to the display case, her dark eyes wide with excitement. She’s already licking her lips and reminds me so much of myself at her age. I’d say she’s probably only five or six.
A tall man walks up behind her. He smiles, seeing her delight. He’s sporting a thick stubble across his jaw. He’s wearing a baseball cap, dark curls peak out around his ears and the base of his neck. His black t-shirt is tight around his biceps and stretches across his chest nicely. I wonder how come I’ve never seen this man before. He for sure would’ve captured my attention. He must just be passing through.
“What can I get you?” I ask, walking to the back of the case.
The man replies without looking at me. “I’ll have a glazed donut and a cup of coffee.” He looks down at the girl. “What do you want, sweetie?”