Jessie stretched from the tips of her fingers all the way through her body to the ends of her toes. Her eyes crusted shut, she had to work her eyelashes free to open them, but on the whole, she felt more rested than she had in months. It then occurred to her the room was a lot brighter for five a.m. than usual. She untangled the covers around her and rolled toward her alarm clock.
Eight o'clock.
Three hours late for prep.
This was an oh-shit moment if there ever was one. Sundays were the busiest days for The Flour Pot. Every minute she was late put her that much farther away from paying the mortgage. She jumped out of bed, her head pounding like a drunk waking up after a three-day bender.
Jessie realized she was still wearing her bar clothes. She couldn't run the bakery stinking of sweat and beer. She quickly calculated she needed one minute to shower, one to dry and dress, another minute to brush her teeth. Twenty minutes to commute.
She was in the middle of calculating how to adjust her baking schedule when she walked into the bathroom. Pink heart Post It notes littered the bathroom mirror. A soft smile lit up her face as she recognized her daughter's large, looping script.
I love you, Mom!
You're the best!
Sleep in. Betty and I got The Flour Pot covered.
Treat yourself to a spa day.
An arrow pointed from the last note to a basket next to the tub. Jessie recognized the pink shred in the bottom as leftovers from Steph's last birthday. On top of the shred, her baby had placed bath salts, a face mask, shaving cream, a razor, and a deep conditioning hair treatment.
Jessie said a silent prayer of gratitude for the blessing that was her daughter. Such a thoughtful child. Even as a toddler, Steph would sense Jessie's mood and crawl into her lap when she needed human contact the most. Jessie tried hard to return the support, but Steph so seldom appeared to need emotional support. It was part of the reason Jessie felt it was so important to provide Steph with the security of growing up in her childhood home.
Jessie prepared for a hot shower, putting the bath salts, face mask, and hair treatment aside. She paused right before stepping in and grabbed the hair treatment.
"Merry Christmas to me."
* * * *
Clean, freshly dressed in something that did more than barely cover her ass, and with silky smooth hair that smelled like coconut, Jessie left her room with a bit of spring in her step. Life was always better after sleep and a shower.
As she passed Liam's room, she noticed the door was ajar. No point in putting off the inevitable, Jessie tapped on the door. She knew last night she would agree to let Jakara stay. She just needed time to wrap her head around it.
When silence greeted her knock, she tried again, a little louder this time. No answer. Before assuming Liam was gone, Jessie opened the door to check. The last thing she expected to see was long, curly, black hair fanned across her son's pillow and feminine limbs tangled in his sheets. The girl's warm brown skin and burgundy nail polish stood out in stark contrast to the boy's white sheets.
Liam was absent.
With a sigh, Jessie quietly closed the door. While her son's forcing Jakara's presence into the house left a bitter taste in her mouth, the end result would have been the same. She had better uses for her energy.
She left a note on the kitchen table, welcoming Jakara and inviting her to help herself to whatever was in the kitchen.
Little Red Corvette played on the radio as she drove to the bakery. Oversized sunglasses protected her eyes from the glaring sunlight. This was a good day. The first day of the rest of her life. A fresh start. Every day, Jessie tried to face the day as a fresh start. Only some days, it was easier than others. As trite as it sounded, it worked for her.
Before she realized it, she was at the stoplight across from The Flour Pot with its big picture window. Sunflowers and Shasta daisies decorated the sign above the door. Rocking chairs flanked the entryway, and she could see Steph cleaning tables inside. Steph's brunette hair was longer than hers, but many people said they could have been twins. While she was flattered by the comparison, she knew her daughter was her own person. Jessie's figure was rounder than her daughter's, and her eyes were green, whereas her daughter's eyes were more of a hazel. And Steph was so much more intelligent than she was that it was scary.
She was parked and standing in the bakery, inhaling the rich fragrances five minutes later. Chocolate, lemon, blueberry were most prominent, but vanilla and lavender were in the mix as well.
"Hi, sweetie. We cut back on the morning variety, but sales have been brisk. Now that you are here, we can be fully stocked for the after-church rush." The Mrs. Santa lookalike looked up at her over rimless glasses but kept working on the batch of frosting in front of her.
Jessie loved the way her brilliant blue eyes twinkled. So did the customers. Betty had been a fixture at The Flour Pot for as long as she could remember. The woman must be at least seventy by now, but as long as she kept showing up for work, Jessie would find a way to pay her.
Jessie grabbed an apron from the stack by the door. She tied it on as she walked over to the old woman and hugged her from behind before dropping a kiss on Betty's cheek. Betty kept working on the butter rum frosting.
"Where do you want me?" Jessie asked.
"We have six orders of glitter cakes scheduled for pickup, and we need two dozen for walk-ins. The cupcakes are baked and frosted. Just need dipped and topped."
Glitter cakes were a favorite with the under twelve crowd. Chocolate and strawberry or cherry and vanilla swirled cupcakes were frosted with buttercream then sprinkled with edible glitter. Each cake was topped with candy princess figurines, crowns, or magic wands, but Jessie's favorite was the candied glass slippers. The clear hard candy had silver and cerulean blue glitter sparsely embedded within.
"I'm on it. It is the least I can do to repay you and Steph for letting me sleep in."
There was no way to work with the glitter without wearing it. Soon Jessie had glitter down her front and up to her elbows. A trickle of sweat tickling her hairline led to her brushing it away with the inside of an elbow before she considered the glitter transfer.
"Mom! Mom! Mom!" Steph came running up to her calling to her in a hushed voice that carried a hint of excitement. "There's a man her to see you."
"Really? A new customer?" Jessie asked as she peeled off the disposable food prep gloves.
"An. Oh. My. God. Hot customer. Who asked for you by name."
"Are you sure its not a salesman trying to sell us ad space or doilies or something?"
"Pretty sure. You've got to see him."
"I will. Let me grab my order pad."
Steph appraised Jessie from head to toe and shook her head. "There is no way you can go out there like this."
She started knocking glitter off her mom.
"Ow, ow, ow. That hurts," Jessie said as she tried to escape Steph's attack.
"You've got glitter all over you."
"I'll take off my apron and put on a chef's coat to cover it up. It will be fine. Just stop swatting at me."
As she buttoned the jacket, she glanced out the passthrough window, trying to get a look at who was so good looking as to work her normally levelheaded daughter into such a frenzy. All she could see was the shoulder and arm of a man wearing a charcoal gray blazer. Whoever he was, his business was welcomed.
She noticed Betty also looking out toward the dining area. Her view must have been better than Jessie's because Betty's mouth was hanging open, and for once, she had stopped what she was doing.
Now Jessie was really curious. One man who could turn the head of a grandmother and a teenager had to be something special.
As she walked by Betty, the older woman muttered, "I'd bang that."
Her comment stopped Jessie in her tracks. "Betty!" Never had she heard Betty say anything nearly as provocative.
"What?" Betty said. "I'm old, not dead." With a wave of her hand, she dismissed Jessie and returned to her mixing. "Go, go. Make us some money."
Jessie lifted her jaw from the floor and gave herself a mental shake. She thought about what this revealed about Betty and smiled. Only last night, she had been lamenting on her impending fall into the category of shriveled up old crone. Knowing that Betty still had those kinds of thoughts at her age gave Jessie hope that she may still have some good years ahead of her.