Page 39 of This Moment

She nodded. “It’s so easy. Just confectioners’ sugar, unsweetened cocoa powder, cardamon, cinnamon, and a hint of…”

She waited to see if I could taste it. I grinned. “Nutmeg.”

Pointing to me, she said, “Yes!”

“Do you use whole milk?”

“I use some powdered milk and add half and half in it.”

“No wonder it’s so good! Do you know what else would make it good? A bit of peppermint, like around Christmas time.”

Opal’s eyes lit with happiness. “I love that idea, Cadie. You are good with flavors. We should think about this during Christmas at the bakery.”

Holding both hands around the warm mug, I smiled. I hated that I wasn’t being honest with Opal. A part of me felt like I was lying to my mother. Opal had hired me nearly on the spot. The only thing she had asked me to do was go into the kitchen and make her something. Anything, but it had to show her I could bake. So I made my grandmother’s banana nut bread, and an oatmeal cinnamon cookie with butterscotch chips and pecans. Opal took one bite of the bread, turned to me, and asked, “Can you start right now?”

I asked for an apron and that was that. I was hired. She asked for references, and I gave her the two fake references that were routed to the guy Randy, my lawyer back in Boston, had set me up with, and he gave me outstanding references. It sucked being deceitful, but I had no choice. It was either a lie to Opal and everyone around me, or a risk of them beingin danger if Michael or his father ever found me. I’d take the lie every single time.

“You know, you can trust me, right?”

My heart felt like it dropped to my stomach, and I prayed I hadn’t made any kind of reaction to her statement. I focused on keeping my voice calm and steady. “Of course, I know that.”

She reached for my arm. “Were you in an abusive relationship? Is that why you don’t like to talk about your past?”

I wasn’t about to add a lie on top of a hundred other lies. I placed my hand over Opal’s. “No, I wasn’t. I will admit that the last guy I dated turned out to be someone else entirely, but I wasn’t in an abusive relationship.”

A look of relief washed over her face, and she closed her eyes. “Thank goodness. I hated the idea of someone being cruel to you.”

I told Opal the closest version of the truth that I could. “I came to Moose Village for a fresh start. To put my past behind me and hopefully build a new life. I don’t talk about it because…well…honestly, it doesn’t give me peace. I chose to focus on the future, and instead find that peace I’ve been searching for.”

The corner of her mouth tipped up. “You should come to sunrise yoga with me tomorrow!”

“Um,” I cleared my throat. “Sunrise yoga? In March? I wasn’t aware that you did yoga, and won’t we freeze?”

She chuckled. “It’s held in a little studio down by the lake. There are huge glass windows, so it feels like you’re outside. And I haven’t been in years. Not with the bakery and all. I’m always there before the sun comes up.”

“Who would get things going tomorrow if we’re both at yoga?” I asked.

Opal’s smile instantly faded. “That’s right. I think I should close the bakery one day a week. I’ve been working nearly seven days a week for too many years now.”

My bakery was closed on Tuesdays. I wasn’t sure why I had picked Tuesdays, but that was the day I decided I needed off. Not a Friday or a Saturday, a Tuesday. Lauryn had sworn up and down I had picked Tuesdays because I wanted to play bingo at the senior center on Monday night and would need to sleep in the next day. Part of that was true, but I hadn’t even known about bingo night when I had opened my bakery in Boston and decided if the Lord took a day of rest, I was too.

“You should do it. Being open seven days a week is stressful if you are the one working all seven.”

She waved her hand to brush me off. “Oh, I take time off here and there. You see that.”

I laughed. “What? Like the hour you took off to run to the bank? Or when you hung out with friends the other day? Or the time you left two hours earlier and returned anyway when it was closing time?”

It was dark, but I was positive she had a blush.

Opal heaved a breath, saying, “I worked so hard to get that bakery to where it is. I don’t want to ever take it for granted. I guess my fear is if I take time off, something could go wrong.”

Turning in my chair, I set the mug on the small table. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I think the bakery is your identity. You’ve worked for years to make it what it is, and you’re afraid you’ll lose a part of yourself if you step back.”

Opal took a drink, set her cup down beside mine, and looked at me. “Why do I get the feeling you’ve experienced this feeling before?”

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