Page 4 of Just One Moment

quinn

OCTOBER

“Hey,Siri, how are you today?”

“Hey,Ican’t complain.Thanksfor asking,” the automated voice from my phone responds.

“Wellgood for you.”

Theweight of my arm increases with each pass around the ceramic mixing bowl.I’mcertain it’s going to fall off if the clumps of flour don’t disappear soon.SometimesmyKitchenAiddoesn’t give me the consistencyIwant, soIhave to revert to the old-fashioned way.Blistersbe damned,Iwill get a lump-free cake batter.

“Hey,Siri, what’s the weather like today?”

Myphone dings, prompting the voice of my robotic friend again. “Expectclear skies, with daytime highs of seventy-one degrees and lows of forty-nine degreesFahrenheit.”

“Fallis definitely here,”Isingsong, though it’s a little breathless.

WhenIglance down, the greenish-yellow batter looks well combined.Iplace the bowl back on the worktop with a bigsigh, reach up to the ceiling, and stretch out my aching muscles.

Whoneeds a workout when you attempt to beat at one hundred and fifty strokes per minute?

Punintended.

Beforethe screen on my phone locks,Isee that it’s almost seven a.m.Icame into the bakery early today, eager to try out some fall-themed recipes.Wheninspiration hits,Igrab it by the horns, no matter how bad my bed head is.Whichis whyI’vebeen here since five.

Thereare currently several sponge cakes lined up in front of me: spiced apple and pecan, maple butternut, and cranberry-orange.Allflavors of fall, and the spicy, buttery goodness that comes with it.ThebatterI’vejust finished is for pistachio and cardamom muffins, whichI’mplanning to pair with a cream cheese frosting.And, of course, there will be something pumpkin spiced,I’mnot a monster.

OnceItransfer the batter to the muffin tins,Ipop it in the preheated oven and move the finished cakes to the large refrigerator behind me.Islap my hands together—the excess flour clouding in front of me—and switch my raggedy, denim apron for one of the newly branded onesIhad made for the bakery.

They’repeach with the bakery’s name embroidered on the front.JustBrewIt.Mybakery.I’ma sucker for a good pun, so when the name came to me on the long drive to my new home, it was meant to be.

It’sbeen ten months sinceIopened the doors, and the need to squeal every timeI’mreminded thatI’mmy own boss hasn’t lessened.

Howdoes one decide to open up a bakery slash coffee shop in coastalNewEngland?Easy.Afew too many margaritas, a dart, and a map.Aweek later,I’dpacked up my van, and it was goodbye,Golden,Colorado, and hello,SuttonBay,Maine.Tradingsnowy mountain ranges for crisp, salty air.It’sthe first time sinceIwas eighteen thatI’velived near the ocean.

Oh!Seasalt and rocky road cookies.Theidea suddenly pops into my head, andIjot it down on the pad stuck to the cork board beforeIforget.

Thequaint little fishing town is hidden away next to the state’s beautiful natural habitats,AcadiaNationalPark, and since moving here,Itotally understand why tourists flock to this corner of the world every year.ThemomentIparked my orangeVWvan up along the beach,Iwas furious at my past self for having never been toNewEngland.

WhileIhad the funds to rent a small commercial space and open up my very own bakery,Ihadn’t expected for it to happen so soon.I’mcertain fate had a part to play in where that dart landed.Withinmy first hour in town,I’dcome across this very building, and by the end of the week,I’dsecured a three-year lease agreement.Heypresto,JustBrewItwas born.

Atapping noise from the front of the bakery gets my attention.Ipeek my head around the partition wall, separating the kitchen and seating area, and seeJowaving through the window, her blonde hair shining in the early morning sun.Paddingover to the door,Iunlock it and let her in.Withouther needing to ask,I’malready making my way over to the coffee machine and starting up her usual order.

JohannaThomaswas born and raised inSuttonBaybut lived inTennesseewith her sister until earlier this year.Maybefate had a part to play in her return, too, because she ended up getting her second chance with her childhood friend,Patrick.Shemoved out of the apartment above the bakery and intoPatrick’shouse last month, but she still pops in most mornings for her daily fix of caffeine.

Shemakes grabby hands toward the fresh coffee pouring out of the machine. “Ohgod,Ineed that so bad today.Lottiehad us both up before the ass crack of dawn.She’shad a thingabout being late for school ever since she started kindergarten.”

Chuckling,Ipour the double shot of espresso over the iceI’vealready scooped into a plastic take-out cup, add a pump of syrup, and top it off with coconut milk.LottieisPatrick’syoung daughter, and despite not being with her mom,Carrie, they make a really good co-parenting team.Lottieis obsessed withJo, as is she with the five-year-old.Iwouldn’t be surprised if they started popping out their own little gremlins soon.

“Hereya go.”Ihand over the cup and she presses her nose to the lid with a deep inhale. “Youneed help.”Ilaugh.

“Iknow,Iknow.Patrickdared me not to drink any iced drinks once the temperatures drop below forty.That’s, like, next week,Quinn!”

Ishake my head and start flipping the chairs over from the tops of the tables.Thesmall space has six two-seater tables, allowing people to sit in with their coffees or pastries if they wish.Mosttake their orders to go, but it’s always nice to meet someone new and hear about their life story or what their plans are for the day.

“Wherehas this year disappeared to?”

“It’sreally gotten away from us,” she answers.Awistful smile pulls at her lips, andIknow she’s thinking about the last few months and how much has changed betweenPatrickand her.I’mhappy for them.They’reobviously soul mates andI’ma big enough girl to sayI’mjealous.Heck,ItellJoI’mjealous of her all the time.

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