Page 25 of Back to You
I swallow, the first flicker of doubt creeping in. I’ve been gone for so long. Why would Ruth sell it to me? I don’t have a business degree. I don’t know what she’s looking for. But I want this. Boy, do I want this.
I take one last look around, flick the lights off, and step back into the morning air. I have a conversation to prepare for. One I never thought I’d be having. But one I need to have.
I had been marching straight toward Ruth’s house, ready to demand she give me a chance, when I realized…The sun was barely up, and as much as I want to fight for this, I also don’t want to start our conversation with her mad at me for waking her up at dawn.
So, I did what any sensible, patient adult would do. I turned right back around and walked home.
Waiting is hell. Minutes feel like hours. I’ve scrubbed the house from top to bottom. Baked cookies. Rearranged the spice cabinet.
And now, I’m sitting on my couch, notebook in hand, writing a speech to Ruth on why I’m the best person to take over the bakery—a movie playing in the background that I’m definitely not paying attention to.
My knee bounces. My heart races.
Why is time moving so damn slowly? Father Time, you wanna help an anxious girl out right now? If my heart rate keepsclimbing like this, I’m going to give myself a heart attack before I even get to Ruth’s doorstep.
Sighing loudly, I grab my phone and check the time. 10:05 AM. She should be awake by now… right? She’s probably had her coffee. This is fine. It’s time. Right?
I take a deep breath. Right.
I march straight toward Ruth’s bright yellow door, ready to beg her to give me a chance. It’s eccentric, just like her, I love it.
She peeks her head out, gripping her robe tightly, probably prepared to send whoever’s knocking at this hour on their way. Then she sees me, and her face shifts—shock, recognition, concern.
“Mariana?? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
I open my mouth, nothing comes out. I look at Ruth. Look at my feet. Look at Ruth again.
“Uh, yea— I mean, yes. Everything is great. I just wanted to talk to you about something. Can I come in please? Unless this is a bad time, then I can totally go back home and come back at a time that’s better for you. Yep, maybe that’s what I’ll do. It’s early, I didn’t mean to bother you. Sorry, Ruth!”
I’m panicking. My feet are already moving away from the door. Ruth sighs, then catches my arm before I can make a full escape.
“Mari, I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re not bothering me at all. Please. I’ve been up for hours—early bird and all that.” She grins, wiggling her eyebrows. “I just made a fresh pot of Café Bustelo, your favorite.”
Before I can respond, she wraps me in a warm hug, in an instance it melts years of distance away. For a moment, I’m fiveyears old again, my face pressed against her familiar embrace, the scent of citrus and flowers clinging to her like a second skin.
She pulls back, smiling, and steps aside. “Come in, Mari.”
I do, and the second I cross the threshold, it’s like stepping straight into the past. Nothing has changed.
The same cozy furniture, the same lace curtains softly filtering the morning light. And by the door, the same candy dish. My candy dish. The one I used to steal from when she babysat me, stuffing sweets into my pockets. I reach for one now, fingers closing around a little strawberry candy, my movements pure muscle memory. Some things never change.
As I follow her into the kitchen, my nerves start to creep back in. I can do this. I can do this. Ruth pours two cups of coffee. “Cream and sugar?”
I nod, fidgeting with my fingers. “Yeah, just one.”
She hands me my cup, and then sits across from me at the table. Her sharp eyes scan my face. “Alright, Mari. Talk to me. What’s on your mind?”
I take a huge gulp of coffee, buying myself time. “Mmm.”
She raises a brow, her eyes roaming over me, taking in my posture. “I don’t remember you ever being this nervous around me.”
“No, no, I’m totally comfortable! It’s not you! I’ve just had… a weird couple of days. A weird couple of months, really. Well, the past year has been weird.” I stand up and start pacing. Ruth’s eyes follow me like a cat tracking a laser pointer. Here goes nothing.
“So, yeah,” I start, my words tumbling out faster than I can catch them. “You know I’ve always loved The Rolling Pin ever since I was a kid. I spent half my childhood pressed up against that front counter, watching you work your magic, waiting for you to sneak me a warm pastry when my mom wasn’t looking."I let out a breath, forcing myself to slow down, but the nervous energy bubbling inside me won’t let up.
“And working there as a teenager was the best. It never even felt like work. It was fun, it was exciting, and it was…” I throw my hands up, searching for the right words. “It was home. That place was home for me.”
Ruth watches me, eyes twinkling with patience, but I can’t stop now. The dam has burst.
