Page 11 of Playoffs & Promises

I've managed to fill a shopping basket of books by the time Sofie returns from lunch and I'm ready to check out. As Sofie rings up the books, we chit-chat, and I'm sure she has no idea who I am.

"Hannah highly recommended your store," I tell her, angling towards the book club opening.

"Oh, how is she?" Sofie asks.

"Loving Tennessee, although she misses book club."

"Well, it's not the same on video. I look forward to when she'll be here in person again."

"Same, I miss my little sister."

Sofie stops scanning and looks up at me. "You're Lou?"

"The one and only?"

She laughs. "Well, it's great to finally meet you."

"Likewise. It would be even better if you'd let me join book club."

"I was wondering why you had a copy of Resisting the Fireman in here."

"A man can't read romance?" I ask her.

She quickly shakes her head. "Oh no, I'm the last person to judge a book by its cover. Or a person by their book. I simply mean Ann texted me that there was a guy asking about book club and I was wondering when you'd get around to asking."

"So how about it?" I wait patiently while she stares intently.

"Why do you really want to join?" She asks. "You don't strike me as the type to enjoy chatting about innermost feelings."

"Maria."

Perking up, her eyes light up. "Really?"

"Stop whatever you're thinking. It's not like that."

Smiling, Sofie finishes ringing up the books. "Well I for one can't wait to see what it's like then, in book club."

I pay for my books, and Sofie writes down a couple more along with the time and date of the next meeting. She says I have to read them before we meet so I'll be up to date with the conversation. I listen to the book all the way home. I can't wait to see the look on Maria's face when I show up to book club.

Four

MARIA

La Petite bakery is my sanctuary, even at five in the morning when the lights are barely on, the ovens are preheating, and I'm entering a few receipts into spreadsheets that I didn't get to yesterday. I finish entering the last of the numbers, and pause to look up at the cork board above my desk. Originally I used it to keep track of notes to myself, but somewhere along the way it turned into more of a vision board. There's a neon pink sticky note from Lia with a reminder to breathe, a handwritten recipe from my grandmother that inspired me to bake my first cookie, and the first dollar from my first sale. Then there are the dreams, a house with a white picket fence, a dog snuggled up in a pile of fluffy purple blankets on a couch, and a printed-out review from the Online Glacier Bay Newspaper announcing the top places to eat in Glacier Bay.

Partially hidden by the article is a crumpled piece of paper I've tried to throw away at least a hundred times. When I first opened the bakery, customers asked me where my awards were. Where my accolades and reviews were to prove my baking was good enough for them. One lady even said her pie was better because she’d won a blue ribbon, and I never had. I entered the competition to get a ribbon, and wound up with that scorecard on my office wall instead.

"Please tell me you aren't looking at that paper again."

My cousin Isabella stands outside my office, tying her apron around her waist. I completely missed her entrance as I relived the day of the fall festival.

"Not anymore." I leave my office and grab my own apron so I won't get as much flour on my pink shirt that reads I bake because punching people is frowned upon with a cute cartoon drawing of a cupcake. My parents had gifted me the shirt for Christmas and I'd immediately added it to my collection.

Isabella retrieves the chocolate chip cookie dough I made yesterday from the fridge. Meanwhile, I start on the bread portion of the menu so the dough will have time to rise. Pulling out the bowls and things I need to make the fresh loaves I offer. Bread isn't the biggest seller at the bakery, but I have loyal customers who buy it regularly so I won't take it off the menu.

"You need to throw that review away," Isabella tells me. "Put up the good reviews you have."

I sigh as I measure out the ingredients into my bowl. "It's not just any review Isa. It's the scorecard from that day. I don’t have a blue ribbon for the bakery because of it."

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