After bagging up the cinnamon bagels, I grabbed some napkins and handed it to one of my favorite customers.

"Here you go, Mrs. Qualls," I smiled cheerfully. "I put some honey and that strawberry cream cheese you like down in the bag for you."

"Oh, thank you, Ms. Katy," the elderly woman smiled back and took the bag a little shakingly. "You always know how to brighten my day."

I waved her off while closing the cash register. "It's no problem at all ma'am. Seeing you and your grandsons every morning makes my day, too."

That made her chuckle. "Well, they certainly love seeing you, that's for sure. Tyler was especially upset this morning when he realized he had to go back to school and couldn't see you today. But I promised them both I would ask for some of your cocoa cappuccino cookies to make up for it," she smiled sweetly as her eyes scanned the display cases for the dessert. When they didn't find that they were looking for her small lips curled down and she asked, "Oh my, are you already sold out of them?"

My smile wavered only slightly although I wanted to wear the same expression as Mrs. Qualls. I can't have people knowing that something was wrong, so with the most chipper voice I could muster I answered, "No ma'am. We just had a little shipment issue the other day so we need some more ingredients before making them again. They will be back shortly!"

I hope, I mentally added.

"Ah, I see," her kind smile returned back full force. "Well, when they do I'll be first in line to buy a dozen! Tyler and James can't seem to get enough of them," she chuckled while sliding her purse back over her shoulder.

My laughter came out a little shaky. "Right, well we will be sure to let you know, Mrs. Qualls. I look forward to seeing you guys that day."

"We do as well, dear!" she opened the door making the bell go off again. She waved behind her as she stepped out. "Have a great day!"

"You too!" I waved back although knowing her developing hearing problem I doubt she heard me.

When the bell stopped ringing and I saw her get into her car, I dropped my act like a sack of sugar and leaned against the counter with a huff. The weight of the situation sat on my shoulders demanding to be acknowledged, something I had been avoiding for a while now.

But I wasn't stupid, I knew this day would come. It's been a week since Deborah left and people are already questioning the absence of her cookies. At first, I could use the excuse that we ran out of them for that day, but now it's getting more difficult. I guess there is no point in avoiding it now. I have to recreate them somehow.

The only problem is I may or may not have misplaced the recipe she gave me the other day.

Okay, so that's a complete lie, I know exactly where it is: in my jeans back pocket which is currently in the dryer, after it had been washed. I had debated on calling Deborah several times, but I'm not sure I want to admit to her I've already destroyed her sacred ingredients. It just shows how responsible I really am. I kept putting it off day after day, but now I see that's not going to be a luxury anymore.

My mind fumbled around for any memory of the ingredients when the doorbell went off again letting me know it was time to kick back into work mode. Immediately I perked up with a peppy smile ready to greet whoever walked in, but when I saw who it was I relaxed.

"Sorry we're late," Ellie said shuffling in while tying on her bright pink apron. "I told Kellie to pick me up around seven but for some reason, she thought I said seven forty-five."

"Because you did say seven forty-five," she dug out her phone and showed something to her. "This is the text you sent last night. You said we had to be there around eight thirty and wanted to be gone by seven forty-five."

"Well, I meant we had to be there at seven forty-five."

"And how am I supposed to know that?"

"Because you're my sister."

"Seriously?" Kellie made a face while tucking her phone away.

"Yes, seriously, and stop making that face at me."

"I'm not making a face."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not," Kellie finished tying her apron.

"Yes you a--," Ellie paused her argument when her eyes landed on something and frowned. "Are you wearing my shoes?"

" . . . No."

"You've got to be kidd--"

"Okay, okay that's enough girls," I jumped in before their daily bickering session turned into a full-on battle. Sometimes it's hard to get them to stop when things start rolling. "I don't mind you two being late today, just don't make a habit of it."

"We won't," they said at the same time.

Finally, something they agree on.

It took a moment for them to ease up on each other, their eyes still piercing the other across the room as they got prepared for work. To anybody else, this would be unacceptable behavior for work, but I've grown used to it over the years of knowing them.

When I first met the twins, I was overwhelmed by their skills. Whereas Ellie was the personable one who could sell even our worst items (desperate times call for sriracha flavored doughnuts), Kellie was fantastic at marketing and making sure our name gets out there. Together they made a fantastic duo; one working directly with the consumers while the other, mostly, worked indirectly with them.

The only downfall is that they bicker, constantly.

I personally don't have any sibling, but I figured their behavior was normal. It wasn't until Lamar brought it up that I realized I was wrong. "My girls bicker, but not from sun up to sun down," he once explained to me. "I can't imagine how their mother puts up with it. Makes me respect her a lot more, though."

I will admit that in the beginning, I wasn't sure how I was going to have them work the front room, which essentially makes them the face of my bakery. I was always scared that my customers would walk in on them choking each other with my scones, but I quickly figured them out. They may be terrible towards one another, but once they hear the bell ring they swap out their murderous glare for professional smiles instantly.

It was amazing even now how even if they were in mid-argument they dropped everything and pretended like they weren't about to lunge for each other's throats. It was a learning process, but luckily I was born with patience (the only good trait my father gave me) and slowly over the years I learned to trust them until one day I stopped sneaking in from the backroom to see if my lobby was still intact. Even on days like today, I don't regret hiring them.

After the twins clocked in I considered this my sign to leave since they could manage without me. As I took off my apron I said, "I'm going to take five and order supplies in the back. You two have the front, right?"

"Solid," Kellie gave me a thumbs up.

"Of course!" smiled Ellie.

Before I left I gave them our current figures in sales as well as goals for the day. I assigned Ellie to fix the displays and help the customers while Kellie worked on fixing our new web page that I'm hoping will be updated by this weekend. She took on the task happily since her marketing classes taught her a few things about computer design she wanted to try out. I didn't mind her on her laptop as long as she knew when to stop and help customers. So far this hasn't been an issue.

When I went back to my office I passed Lamar who was working on our afternoon items. He didn't even notice me he was so engrossed in his work and jamming out to James Brown. I smiled at the site of him singing while twisting dough around until a thought hit me and my smile dropped. He will probably have to pull another double today to take on Deborah's former workload. Of course, I help out as much as I could too. But even with two bakers in the back, it's not enough.

That's why the first thing I did when I got to my office was skip the supplies and look for any inquiries for my job postings. At first, I put out flyers everywhere, but when that proved to be unsuccessful Kellie suggested that I go to the internet and start advertising there. Although it had a slightly better turnout, the issue was always the same; either they weren't old enough, lacked experience, or couldn't fit the hours.

I frowned as I skimmed through the list of prospects. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I almost called one person for an interview until I realized they wanted to be paid the same amount as Gordon Ramsay and that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Even I don't get paid that much. Still, I considered to call them to have some sort of negotiation when I read their disclaimer 'NON-NEGOTIABLE'.

Well, fudge muffins.

At this point, I'm not sure why I look anymore. It only makes me realize how dire this situation is rapidly becoming. With no extra hands, my business is going to seriously suffer, not to mention the workers as well. Just thinking about that made me want to vomit. I never want my employees to work more than they have to. I won't allow it. But even if I am determined on this, I can't deny that things right now the odds aren't in my favor.

I decided a while back that if I don't get any offers at all, I won't make Lamar and the twins work doubles for the rest of their time here. I couldn't do that to them. I would haul all the work myself before I do that to my employees, but even I knew my body would give out eventually. I'm still a human even if I work inhuman hours. So without help from others, and me not being reliable either, I'm just going around in circles trying to do the right thing but collapsing in the realization that this might not happen. And that's when the thoughts would appear.

What if you have to give up your bakery?

What if you lose all your money?

What if you have to go back to them?

No.

No, no, no, I shook my head trying to dispel any and all looming dark thoughts. I will be damned before I let this bakery close and go back there. I fought so hard to get to this point, I fought so hard to get away, and now that I'm where I've always wanted to be. I can't give it up. I won't give it up. There has to be some sort of silver lining to all of this. Right?

With a groan, I quickly clicked out of the website and went to order supplies like I originally came in for. In a few short minutes, everything was ready to go with a promise to be delivered in a few days. Good. Hopefully, by that time it arrives I will have the cookies revived. Yet another concern plaguing my mind.

The stress of it all started to weigh down on me, particularly in my head. I could feel a migraine coming on so I started digging through my bag for medicine when a soft knock came at the door.

"Hey, Katy," came Lamar's deep voice making me turn around. "Sorry to bother you but do you mind if I take a fifteen?"

"No! No, of course not," I paused my search. "Take as long as you need. You can even take thirty if you want."

He frowned slightly. "I would, but I haven't finished prep. I could get it done after my fifteen--"

"Don't worry about it. I can finish up for you," I said as I got out of my seat. I could pull through with a migraine. "Go take thirty."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, no problem! I actually like prep sometimes believe it or not."

As I tied on my apron he eyed me a moment longer, still unconvinced. But finally after what felt like hours he let out a long sigh and ran his hand over his hairless head. "Fine. But don't forget you need a break, too. And you better promise me you'll eat this time."

"I will, I promise," I gave him a sincere smile that hid my lie. It was pointless, we both knew it, but he went along with the charade and turned to take his thirty while I turned to get to work.

There was a lot to do, much more than a single baker should take on. As I pulled out the icing from the fridge I had a gut feeling my work wasn't going to be finished by closing time, which is at four today, but I had no other choice. At least not today.

As I sat the bag of icing on the prep table a poster in the corner caught my eye. It was an image of a cheese grater saying "Make Today Grate!". I smiled thinking of the day I bought that when I had high hopes for my bakery. I hope that doesn't come to an end anytime soon.

With a sigh, I cut open the bag of blue icing silently hoping that the silver lining would appear soon. Because no matter what happens, I am not going back there.

🍪Five Hours Later🍪

I remember when I was in the fourth grade I invited this girl named Dana from my class over to play. We used to talk about what we wanted to be when we grew up, and when I said I wanted to have my own bakery she snorted and said, "Being a baker is easy. Why don't you try something that's more challenging?"

We didn't remain friends long after that. But if we had, and if she could see what I went through today, she would eat her words with the six pounds of icing I just made. Of course, I have nobody to blame but myself. I let Lamar and the twins leave at four rather than ask for help. Even when they offered to stay behind I pretended like I was going to leave in an hour. Add four to that and I wasn't lying. Nonetheless, the work is done. At least the work for tomorrow is.

Tomorrow I will have to start all over again. Yippee.

My body was exhausted, but I still managed to make a stop at Mr. Phillip's place and drop off some goodies. We discussed politics a little before I waved goodbye promising to return tomorrow.

As I limped towards my apartment I berated myself over that fact the entire time. Not that it helped any. The truth remains that no matter how torn up I am, I just have to push through. Even if my muscles are screaming, even if my back feels like it's going to snap, even if my head feels like it's replaced with a ten-pound bowling ball, I will prevail because I will never go back there. All of this pain is ten times better than that.

I fumbled with the door a little noisily, my mind too numb to worry about waking my new lovely tattooed neighbor although I have a feeling he's still awake at this hour. I, on the other hand, would absolutely love to go to bed right now. The only thing keeping me from charging to my bed full steam ahead is the fact that I promised myself I would do something when I got home.

I have to make the cocoa cappuccino cookies.

Of course, it might be a little difficult without the recipe. And it's now almost ten so Deborah probably won't answer. And not to mention the grocery store is closed so the only ingredients I have are what's in my kitchen. Once again, everything is against my favor. Not that it mattered, because I am not going to go back on my word tonight.

After a little online research, I gathered what I knew about this cookie and went to work. It's a pity I just cleaned my kitchen last night and now it will be destroyed again. I allowed myself a moment of silence for the destruction that's about to happen as I tore open a fresh bag of flour.

Like a mad scientist, I started collecting all my ingredients to create my concoction. I tried not to follow the recipe too closely so that I could sell it without worrying about someone thinking I copied them. Within seconds I was banging around the kitchen, mixing, stirring, refraining from eating the batter, succumbing to eating the batter, and plopping it on a cookie sheet.

The oven beeped telling me it was ready to be used and I slid the cookie sheet in along with a wish. Fifteen minutes later the alarm went off and I nearly tripped over myself running to the oven. Even if they weren't cooled off I dove in, immediately regretted it, then tried again a few minutes later.

The first bite I could taste the sweet cocoa.

The second bite brought in the bitter coffee taste.

It was definitely a cocoa cappuccino cookie, gooey, delicious, and tasty.

But it wasn't right.

I scraped the rejected cookies off into an empty bowl then jumped right back to work. I repeated the steps taking away a few ingredients when my hand paused over the egg carton. The eggs. I'm completely out.

Panic started to settle in when I realized my baking session had come to a screeching halt. I had no other option since there was no place to go to buy ingredients. My hands were completely tied.

"What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?" I scratched my head pacing back and forth. "Okay, okay think, Katy, think. Do you really need eggs? Absolutely. But is there something else I can use? Probably not. Is there a store open? Maybe a twenty-four seven grocery store? You live ten minutes from Miami, surely there is something. If not I could ask Lamar. No. The twins? Definitely not. I need more friends. Maybe I am weird. Maybe the neighbor was right to think of me so neg--" my pacing ended and I looked up. It was a terrible, crazy thought. Maybe I was more sleep deprived than I thought for thinking that. "I can't go over there. Even it is just for some eggs. But maybe . . ." I started to look at the wall that was connected to Tattoo Guy's apartment. The thought lingered for a moment before I slammed it shut. "No! No, he wouldn't. You shouldn't. This isn't . . . ugh no. I can't do it. I won't."

Five minutes later I was standing in front of my neighbor's door wearing nothing but a fluffy robe and bunny slippers knocking repeatedly. This desperation goes a lot farther than the sriracha doughnuts.

I stood there a moment, all dignity left in my room next door, when I heard a deep voice from behind the door yell out, "Go away, Jason. It's not your day."

I paused a moment highly confused and slightly concerned. Who is Jason? His brother? His friend? Maybe even . . . his lover? He did say it wasn't his day so maybe he meant--sweet lemon drops I need sleep.

I blushed as I spoke up to say, "Umm, it's actually not Jason."

A pause.

"Then who is it?" his voice sounded muffled from behind the door but still clearly annoyed.

I was so nervous for a moment I almost forgot who I was. Quickly, I cleared my throat and answered, "It's Katy Thomas. Your neighbor?"

Silence.

I shuffled back and forth on my feet awkwardly. I guess I should have expected this. He doesn't have the best opinion of me since we last spoke. This would have bothered me if I wasn't on a mission. "Look, I know you don't particularly, umm, like me or whatever, and I wouldn't bother you if this wasn't really important."

More silence.

I tightened the robe around me feeling stupid talking to a door. Honestly, I'm not that bad of a person. I'm not even half of a bad person. So what if I was listening to his conversation with Mr. Vasnev? He wasn't exactly discreet about it. Neither one of them were. And that was a week ago. Surely he's moved on by--

Right in the middle of my thoughts the door unlocked and swung open revealing a guy with a very exposed chest covered in tattoos and a towel draped around his