The bakery was alive with the rhythm of morning. The ovens hummed, trays clattered, and the sweet scent of cinnamon rolls mingled with fresh coffee. Holly moved quickly behind the counter, her apron dusted with flour, her hair pulled back in a loose knot. The holiday rush had begun, and every customer seemed to carry a little more cheer — or a little more stress — than usual.
She was sliding a pan of gingerbread men onto the cooling rack when the bell above the door chimed. Holly glanced up, expecting another regular.
Her breath caught.
Lee’s mother stood in the doorway, brushing snow from her coat. Without her husband beside her, she seemed lighter, almost approachable. Her smile was tentative but genuine.
"I hope I’m not intruding," she said softly. "I wanted to see your bakery for m
