Page 24 of The Second Chance Year

Thankfully, everyone seems too distracted by my mess in the dining room to notice me darting across the kitchen. I’m halfway to the door when I pass by my prep table and spot the doughnuts I’d been working on earlier. Someone packed them up neatly in a box. On a whim, I grab it and head out the door.

Outside on Bedford Avenue, the evening air cools my flushed skin, and by the time I’ve walked a half dozen blocks to Higher Grounds, I feel slightly less heated. Zoe has the café open late tonight, and the warm glow in the window beckons me.

Along with Zoe, José Luis is on duty tonight. Since business is slow, he sits in his usual spot behind the counter with a sketchbook propped on his leg.

“Hey, Sadie.” Zoe gives me a grin as I walk in. “Good to see you.”

I plunk the pastry box on the counter. “These are for you.”

She raises her eyebrows and flips open the lid. “Ooooh.” Out of the box, she pulls a tender brioche doughnut stuffed with the lightest, fluffiest coffee cream you could imagine. “This looks amazing.”

José Luis hops off his stool to peer over her shoulder. “Yum.”

Even Mrs. Kaminski seems to be slightly impressed. I put a napkin in front of her and place a doughnut on top.

“For me?” She blinks at the doughnut, and in the next second, she’s devouring it. Powdered sugar drops on her navy cardigan.

“I’ll do it,” I tell Zoe. “If you want me to bake for you, I can come in twice a week. I’ll stock the freezer with pastries—croissants, muffins, scones. All you’ll have to do is pull them out and bake them. And then I’ll make a couple of new desserts each week—cakes and tarts, things that are a bit more labor intensive that you’ll want to serve fresh.”

“You’re hired,” Mrs. Kaminski mutters with coffee cream on her chin.

“What she said,” Zoe says with a laugh. “If you agree to what we can pay, of course.”

I nod. Whatever Zoe can pay me is going straight into my Someday Bakery fund. If I could eventually work for myself, I wouldn’t have to put up with anyone else’s bullshit. Or roving hands.

“Welcome to the team.” Zoe holds out her hand to shake on it, and her smile is infectious. “When can you start?”

Mrs. Kaminski climbs off her chair, brushing crumbs from her palms. “Sadie the Cat Lady,” she says, pointing to me. “Wait here.” Then she turns her shaking, mottled finger to José Luis. “You, young man. Come with me.”

José Luis looks to Zoe for guidance, but she just shrugs. “You heard the woman.”

He rounds the counter and follows Mrs. Kaminski as she slowly shuffles to the front door, leaning heavily on her cane. Once they’ve disappeared outside, I turn to Zoe.

“Where do you think they’re going?”

“No idea. That woman is eccentric.”

I hang out at the counter, chatting with Zoe about baking supplies and the bulk cost of flour. A couple of minutes later, a cool breeze blows into the café as the door swings open.Mrs. Kaminski lumbers back in with José Luis balancing a cardboard box in his hands. The box appears to be moving, and I swear I hear something thumping around in there.

Once Mrs. Kaminski is safely inside, José Luis closes the door and sets the box on a table. “I’m not sure what’s going on here,” he confides, backing away. The box is definitely moving. And thumping. And then it lets out a high-pitched yowl.

“Whatis in that box?” Zoe demands, approaching it slowly. At that moment, a tiny, furry little black arm pops out the top of the box where the two flaps are folded together. Zoe lets out a startled shriek and jumps backward.

“Oh, stop being so dramatic.” Mrs. Kaminski rolls her eyes. “It’s a cat. For Sadie the Cat Lady.”

“It’s awhat? Forwho?” I ask, eyes wide.

“It’s a cat. I found it in the alley.” She pokes at the box with her cane. “They won’t let me keep a cat in my building, so I brought it for you.”

I stand there, dumbfounded. “I can’t take home a…” My voice trails off, because of course I can take home a cat. I told Zoe that my cat died and implied I was devastated. What would it look like if I refused this one?

But… I can’tactuallyhave a cat. Can I? I shake my head. I have enough trouble taking care of myself. How am I going to take responsibility for another creature?

The box rustles again, and through the flaps in the lid, a little black head pops out. The cat looks around and then lets out a tiny, plaintivemeow.

“Oh my God, that thing is so freaking cute.” José Luis presses his palms to his cheeks. “I’mdying.”

I have to admit the cat really is freaking cute.But I cannottake it home.I seize on the opportunity José Luis presented. “It seems like José Luis has really fallen in love. Maybe he should take the little guy.”

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