Page 4 of Baking With A Ghost

With a sad smile, she spins the wedding ring on her finger.

"I'm sorry. How long have you been running your bed and breakfast alone?"

"Oh, close to twenty-five years now. We were barely fifty, when he just never made it home that night." She forces a smile. "But I didn't join you to bring you down and talk about my late husband. What brings you to the town of Hope?"

Sipping my coffee, I find myself compelled to lay out to Mary what indeed had brought me here. No excuses. No made up stories. Just the realness of my life. All the ugly.

"I needed a fresh start. My boyfriend, the one I thought loved me, turned out to not be who he said he was. But of course that happened after I was already under his thumb. He broke my spirit so hard, I lost myself completely. I didn't think I'd ever get the bakery I dreamed of. He had me believing I was worthless for so long."

Mary's soft hand pats mine. "But you're here now and you're chasing that dream, aren't you?"

"I am. I had hoped it would be with a person who loved me for me. Much like you and Ed, I wanted to work alongside my partner and build a life together we both loved." I shake my head, embarrassed with my admission to a perfect stranger, but Mary seems to understand and she’s easy to talk to. "One day, maybe I can have both the bakery and a loving partner at my side."

"Love does seem to make everything a little more flavourful on the bland days, doesn't it? Ed was looking forward to being home and running this place with me. We had it all planned, but sometimes the best laid plans have a wrinkle you just can't do anything about. So you take those plans and start a new one. You're still young and quite handsome, if you don't mind me saying so. I think you'll find what you want in due time, John."

I dip my head at her words. "Thank you, I hope you're right. But one thing at a time." I finish my coffee and stand when I notice the time. "I need to get to the mill and meet the delivery van, which hopefully arrives as scheduled today."

"If it doesn't, you know you have a room here until it does."

With a quick thank you for the hospitality, I dash to my room for my laptop before leaving. Driving to my new home and business, my pulse quickens when the river and giant paddlewheel come into view. It's no longer just a wish. The first step to having my bakery has been made.

Now the real work begins.

John

The Mystery

Iknewstartingabusiness would be a lot of work, but I wasn't prepared for how hard it would be to handle everything on my own.

Every. Single. Day.

I'd never admit it to my best friend, when she asks, but I'm tired and more than a little lonely. After watching an infomercial about all the homeless animals around the world, I searched nearby shelters and immediately went and adopted a cat for company.

Snowball, a giant, black, fuzzy ball of mischief, weaves her way around my legs as I head back to my kitchen. She may have been a spur of the moment decision, but she's been great company for me, even when she almost has me fall to my death every day. "Today isn't the day to be underfoot, Snowball. I have too much to do today and you need to behave."

I slide her dish over with my foot, to remind her she's already been fed, and rifle through my mail. A pretty lilac coloured envelope, standing out from all the stark white business mail, has me pause. My name is written in cursive that I don't recognize. There's no address or post mark either, just my name. It must have been dropped here by the person who wrote it.

I've not had time to really meet anyone here yet, except Mary at the bed and breakfast. I'm not even officially open for business. How would someone know I live here and what my name is so fast?

This worn down mill house, in a tiny town in rural Ontario aptly named Hope, is where I've invested all my savings, along with all my future dreams. It's my new start to life and I hope the town lives up to its name.

Once my furniture arrived, I quickly made the loft space mine and got settled in. As soon as I had finalized the purchase, I had contractors start the remodel of the open area below the loft. A suitable working industrial kitchen and storefront was almost finished and thankfully they were able to begin their work before I arrived. I had sketched my dream bakery set up when I was still in high school and while the projected cost had increased greatly, I was almost there.

My dream of being a baker was about to come true. I had no idea if I would sink or swim in this venture, I just knew when I saw the listing I had to come here. Everything about it felt right.

The building, the town, the entire vibe. It all just clicked togetherin a way I couldn't explain more than that – it just felt right.

Sipping my coffee, I slide the single sheet of lined paper from the lilac envelope and read the note.

If you want to know about the ghost who lives here, meet me at the coffee house tonight at 8 P.M.

"What in the actual fuck?"

I drop the letter with irritation and shake my head as it flutters to the ground. No name attached, no description, just a line telling me of a fucking ghost. That's some way to welcome the new guy in town with ghost stories. I thought I was in for a quiet life, but maybe not if there's ghost stories afoot.

MEOW

"I know buddy. We'll be okay, it's just a bad joke."

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