Page 4 of Room One Hundred and Twenty

Nodding, I know there’s no point in having this conversation. It’ll only lead to Charity blaming herself and I won’t have that.

“Text me if anything changes and I’ll come right back,” she assures without missing a beat, “we’re in this together.”

“You should start applying elsewhere,” I groan, “I don’t know how many more weeks we can take of this. I’m going to be honest with you here, but I might have to start job hunting too if I want to keep this place running.”

Clicking her tongue, she slaps my shoulder this time. “None of that, seriously. Even on a sinking ship, a crew must stick with its captain.”

Well, that gets a laugh out of me. “Say that to all the past employees who jumped ship. I don’t think they got the memo.”

Seriously though. All three of those traitors left because they didn’t want to be associated with this place. Despite knowing what happened that day, no one tried to stand in my corner.

No one but Charity.

“Enjoy your afternoon. Go take a nice walk along the coast. Keep an eye out for hiring signs. You know, the usual.” Deflating a little more, I work overtime to keep a smile on my face.

“As long as I’m not kicked out of my mother’s basement, you’ve got me,” she assures as she makes her way toward the front.

Wishing her a goodbye, I’m left to run the bakery by myself. With plenty of items to sell, there’s nothing to do but take in the view past the display window while counting down the minutes before I close the shop. Should I wrap things up early?

There are a good three hours left. Every minute I remain open without selling anything is simply money lost. I don’t want to think about how many ingredients will go to waste if I close ahead of time.

Facing a losing battle here, I decide waiting one more hour can’t hurt. Popping a sign against the window can’t either. Even if selling everything in the display half off isn’t going to make much of a profit, it’s better than not earning anything at all.

* * *

Kicking my shoes off, I consider throwing my body against the couch and calling it a night. All it would take is ten minutes of a random movie to knock me out.

Instead, I stroll to the kitchen and pull out a bottle of wine. I’ll forget about my day entirely if I drink the bottle dry. For now, a glass will help ease my headache.

This is my routine. Every time I leave the bakery, I’m left sulking in my apartment. By now, I should be used to this. Despite this, there’s the sting of defeat weighing heavily in my gut that will be soon joined with a mouthful of burning liquid.

Getting comfortable at the dining table, I inhale half the glass before I let myself even think about everything that has gone wrong today. Even if I didn’t profit as much as I could, selling most of those discounted goods has to be considered a small win.

Grinding my palm against my temple, I assure myself everything will be fine. There’s always a light at the end of the tunnel. All I have to do is keep my head afloat until this mess is over with. Even though I’ve repeated these same words over and over and over, Iwillbe okay. I have to be. What else will I do?

Quit and give up? After working all those jobs to fund the bakery, and the years I sacrificed to learn how to run a business, there’s no way in hell I can throw in the towel.

Sniffing, I scoff under my breath at the rush of emotions. Attending these pity parties is starting to become a pain. I need to change things up and figure out a way to fix everything.

Though, if someone wanted to hand me the solution to all of my problems, I would not mind in the slightest.

Phone buzzing next to my glass, I check the notification. It’s a random email directed to the bakery’s account. The subject line catches my attention.

A Business Opportunity.

Snorting at the timing of the email, I debate on clicking it. It’ll be a waste of time, I’m sure of it. Especially when most of the messages I receive are from trolls.

Picking my glass up once more, I take in a mouthful. Once I swallow it down, my mind is made.

I need a good laugh right about now. Whatever this is about, I’m sure it’ll tickle my insides. Clicking the email, I refill my glass and sit back as I scroll.

I have an offer, Miss Tanner. One you’ll find might sound too good to be true. Despite how this will sound, I assure you, it is authentic.

Great start to an email. Totally believable. Someone wants to get a kick out of getting a reply. Should I block the sender before I see how good this offer sounds? No, not yet.

The business I help run is located in Seattle. We could use a bakery like yours to help liven some spirits here.

Seattle. My stomach drops at the mention of the city. The place I grew up in, funny enough. Only a few hours away from this small town, I never once considered returning.

---