Chapter 15 - The Scent of Bread
Six months later, the spring sun was warm against the freshly painted brick of 114 East 4th Street.
The peeling paint was gone, replaced by a rich forest green trim around the wide glass display windows. The metal awning had been replaced with dark canvas bearing new gold lettering: Helen & Roxanne’s Bakery.
It was 7:00 AM on a Saturday.
A line of twenty people stretched down the sidewalk, waiting for the doors to open. The sweet smell of cinnamon rolls, toasted brioche, and fresh dark roast coffee spilled out into the morning air every time the ventilation fans kicked on.
I stood behind the front counter, stacking warm sourdough loaves onto the wooden display shelves.
Walter sat at the small corner table near the window, wearing his tweed vest, reading the morning paper while sipping a cup of black coffee from a ceramic mug.
The front door opened.
A young girl in a worn hoodie walked in, holding a small resume in a plastic sleeve. She looked nervous, her hands trembling slightly as she approached the counter.
"Hi," she said, her voice small. "I saw the sign in the window for a morning baker's apprentice. I don't have a lot of commercial experience, but... I work hard. And I really need to get on my feet."
I looked at her worn sneakers, dusted with dried mud from the walk across town.
I smiled, reached behind the counter, and pulled out a clean, crisp white apron.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Maya," she said.
I laid the apron on the counter between us.
"Put this on, Maya," I said, gesturing toward the warm kitchen behind the swinging doors. "Let's teach you how to bake."
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THE END
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