Healer of Love

CHAPTER2

It’s been more than a week. We’ve all been waiting with bated breath for something we didn’t know; anything to happen. But so far it’s been eerily quiet, there’s been a tense atmosphere clothing the bakery this past week. Today was good. Everyone seemed to be finally moving on from the whole gangster lawyer debacle, which was great.

An interviewer from good insider came to to a column on the bakery. She was a petite lady with all American girl next door look and a little bit quirky.

She asked a few questions about Sugar & Spice and how much has changed since the competition. I told her a few personal stories mixed in with generic but altruistic answers to the questions and she seemed satisfied said it was going to be a big hit and to get ready for an influx of a new demographic of customers.

Sometimes it’s hard to believe this is my life.

“Alright people, that was the last customer of the day and we are officially sold out. Great work everyone.” I announce to the kitchen.

There’s a small tired cheer as everyone gets to packing up so head home for the night.

“I guess we shouldn’t have been too worried about that threat.” Niamh says from behind me putting her hand on my shoulder. Always the protector Niamh, she always had a way of knowing what I was thinking without me having to mention it.

I smile reassuringly trying not to let my fears show too much on my face. In a sing song voice I turn to her, “I guess not Niamh.”

She rolls her eyes smiling as she walks away.

Another successful day living my dream… it’s not hard work if you love it. I tell myself as I try to ignore the aching of my back and shoulder muscles.

I start packing up my things also. After long days like this a long soak in the tub, sipping wine and eating chili cheese fries is just what the doctor ordered.

I stopped my train of thoughts as I felt an eerie feeling come over me, the bakery was almost empty now and it seems my anxiety was starting to get the better of me. I should lock up and leave quickly.

I move to turn off the lights when I hear a loud bang with the sound of glass shattering next. My heart jumps to my throat as my body freezes trying to process what is happening. A robbery?! I’m being robbed! I have to think fast, what do I do in a situation like this. I grab my phone immediately to call the police giving them as quick of a description as I can. Robbery, bakery, alone, come quickly please. The operator tells me to find somewhere safe and stay hidden, situations like this tend to get a bit violent.

I take a deep breath trying to steady myself it’ll all be fine, I repeat over and over again. Not believing a word of it.

Just through a small space I see the dart of a body come in and I could almost recognize that indignant sneer anywhere. The lawyer from today. What the hell was he doing here. Those darn Morettis, I should’ve known.

Without thinking I grasp the first thing I could find that could be used as a weapon; a medium sized rolling pin. I’m going to defend my bakery no matter what.

I run out with a battle cry. There have to be about ten men in total, all going around breaking glasses, fine china and any other valuable items they could find. From the corner of my eyes I see the lawyer disheveled walking out of my pantry and he stops short eyes meeting mine. He clenched his jaw and starts to move towards and I immediately raise up my rolling pin. I wasn’t going down without a fight. In fact, if I was to die he definitely was coming with me.

But it didn’t have to come to that, thank God. I almost feel the siren before I hear it. Faint in the distance drawing closer by the second. I see the realization in his eyes as he darts around the room for an exit, the other men stopping too with the sound of the police. They quickly clear out leaving me with the wreckage.

“Police! Put your hands where I can see them. “ A police officer barges in through the broken door.

I look around assessing the damage, half my kitchen is gone, smoke pools out from under the pantry no doubt burning all my expensive ingredients. Most of the furniture in the main space is broken, as well as doors and windows, damaged equipments and on and on the list goes.

I tried to tell the police it was the Morettis. “It was them I tell you officers. They’ve had their eye on my space. They have it out for me since I refused to sell the rest of my lease. They threatened me about a week ago.” I tried to explain over and over again but they didn’t listen.

Had I reported them in the past? No. Was there any evidence of violence towards me in the past? No. Did I report the threat? No. Do I have any evidence that could link them to the scene of the crime? No.

I have a description of the lawyer who had come to issue the threat a week ago and the man who led the attack on my bakery and the police said they were going to look into it. Somehow my cctv camera hadn’t been recording during the time of the attack, there was no footage.

I called the staff to tell them I was fine they didn’t need to worry and not to bother coming in to work tomorrow. The place was a mess, everything was broken, damaged or burnt. And for what? A new casino!

I don’t think I’ve ever felt this amount of rage and hatred toward a specific set of people like I felt towards this family in this moment.

It was clear the police weren’t going to pursue this. I could see it in their eyes, the realization, the fear as I mentioned that name. The officer taking my statement asked if I had insurance and seemed satisfied with my answer, no doubt assuaging a bit of the guilt she felt knowing they wouldn’t take this case seriously. They had the lot of them in their pocket those Morettis. The whole town was eating out of their ass.

They were used to preying on the weak and getting away with it but no, not with me. I vow to myself, I will have my pound of flesh some way somehow.