Page 8 of You Cake My Breath Away

“Uh, okay.” My forehead creases at her abrupt change in subject and the way she’s hustling me off the phone.

“Hey Til,” she says before hanging up.

“Yeah?”

“Do something special for yourself today.”

Even though she can’t see me, I roll my eyes. What’s the point of doing something special when the one person you want to spend your birthday with isn’t here anymore?

“Sure,” I reply. “I’ll see you later, Seester.”

Rain starts up again, pelting the windshield as I wait for the light to change, contemplating Shantel’s words. Her heart is in the right place, but I’m not sure I’m ready yet. How does one know they’re ready to move on after something tragic happens? If there’s an answer to that question, I have yet to find it.

Rosie’s comment about dragging my ass comes back to mind. I’m not sure how she even knew owning a bakery was a dream of mine, but if I could do something for myself, give myself one gift, it would be the bakery Jessie and I dreamed up under the stars.

That thought follows me the entire way to Nora’s driveway. Snatching the old loan paperwork from my glovebox, I Google what it would take to get a business loan. I’m not as business savvy as Jessie was, but I’m sure it shouldn’t be too difficult.

Chapter five

Tilly

I’m all blues and no clues as I leave the bank, stuffing the thick stack of paperwork into my floral crossbody purse. My head spins with everything necessary to acquire a simple small-business loan, and there’s a small chance the fluttering inside my stomach isn’t excitement but nausea. When Jessie was alive, we calculated start-up, equipment, and overhead costs for my dream bakery location. I had my business plan all in order, my dreams so close I could taste the sweet icing of success, but we could never find a good location.

A soft chiming emanates from my purse. I shuffle through it to grab my phone and slice my finger along the loan paperwork, cursing at the sting. This day keeps getting better. Without glancing at the caller, I answer.

“Hello?” I cringe at the brashness in my voice.

“Hey sweetpea,” my mother-in-law says.

My shoulders curve in, immediately embarrassed by the tone I answered with. I clear my throat, trying to shake away the tension riding my vocal cords. “Hey Nora.”

“Are you home?” she asks.

A frown tugs at the corners of my mouth. “Just left the bank downtown.”

“I hope everything’s okay.”

I inhale, hoping disappointment doesn’t seep into my voice. “It’s fine. I talked to someone about getting a loan to start a new bakery location.”

Her sharp gasp melds my feet to the cement. “No,” she breathes.

“No? What do you meanno?”

The phone crackles in my ear like she’s holding it against her chest. Her animated voice muffles as she argues with someone in the background.

“We can talk about it at dinner tonight,” she says. “Would you mind picking up my pottery since you’re already downtown?”

“Didn’t Shantel pick it up the other day after she left my house?”

“She had a meeting she couldn’t be late for, and if the bowl isn’t picked up today, I’ll have to wait until next month when the owner is back from vacation,” Nora says, coughing into the speaker.

I sigh into the phone, inwardly cursing my sister-in law. Nora doesn’t ask me for much. She could have cut ties after Jessie passed, but she and Shantel have been my rock and support system through everything. This is the least I can do, even if I’d rather go home and wallow in my misery with a pint of ice cream.

“You know what,” she interrupts my negative thoughts, “don’t worry about the bowl. I can ask Archer to pick it up.”

Archer’s name twists the knots in my stomach even tighter.

“No,” I reply too harshly. “I’m already down here.”

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