Chapter 6: One Step Inside
1309 Words
Monday morning had finally arrived, and Becca woke up with butterflies she hadn’t felt since…well, Monday morning.
She changed shirts. Twice.
Then her shoes.
Then she threw the first outfit back on, realizing it was fine to begin with.
Craig stood in the bedroom doorway, attempting not to grin at his girl.
“You changed three times.”
“I did not.”
“You changed four.”
She jabbed a finger in his chest.
“I refuse to take style tips from a man with six brown shirts.”
“They’re different shades of brown.”
“They are not.”
He smiled wide.
“I like uniformity.”
She chuckled. The butterflies morphed from worry to excitement.
Main Street
By the time they stepped outside, downtown had already stirred.
The florist set fresh bouquets out front of her shop.
The barber swept up yesterday’s hair off the sidewalk.
The café owner hung chalkboard signs by the curb.
Becca took it all in.
“I’ve always loved this town.”
Craig intertwined his fingers with hers.
“And it would love you right back.”
In front of the old brick building, the real estate agent, Mr. Dawson, unlocked the heavy wooden door.
“Ready?” He asked.
Becca took a deep breath.
Not really. But-
“It’s time.” She said with more confidence than she felt.
The Empty Space
The door groaned open.
Sunlight beamed through the tall front windows, illuminating particles of dust dancing in the air.
It smelled like aged wood and new beginnings.
Original hardwood floors spanned from the entrance all the way to the back wall.
Windows were framed with exposed brick.
The pressed tin ceiling faded but maintained its vintage appeal.
“It’ll need some work.” Mr. Dawson said regretfully.
“It will,” Becca whispered back.
She stepped into the space, taking baby steps as if she were scared to touch it.
Accidentally, her mind wandered to a place of imagining what the bakery could be.
Glass cases filled with homemade cookies.
Warm bread cooling on hanging wooden racks.
Children’s hands pointing at colorful cupcakes.
Neighbors laughing and catching up over coffee.
Life. Conversation. Joy.
In that moment, Becca smiled unconsciously.
Craig saw.
“I like that smile.”
Her head shot up.
“What smile?”
“The one you have when you can already see yourself decorating.”
She chuckled.
“Maybe a little.”
The Kitchen
Mr. Dawson led them to the back of the building.
“The previous owner had a commercial kitchen in back.”
As they entered, most of the appliances had been removed.
Only stainless counters and an older sink remained.
The room seemed to amplify every footstep they made.
Becca ran her fingers along one of the counters.
“I could see my grandmother baking here.”
Craig smiled at his wife.
“I think she would be proud of you.”
Tears formed in Becca’s eyes.
“I hope so.” She nodded.
Reality
There was no denying it, she loved the building.
She also loved dreaming about what she could do with it.
But reality began to kick in.
“It’s going to be expensive.” Mr. Dawson nodded in agreement.
“Renos.” She continued.
“Equipment,” Craig added.
“Permits.” She knew.
“Inventory.” Becca looked down at her feet.
“I don’t know if we can afford that.” Her heart sank.
Craig squeezed her hand reassuringly.
“You don’t need to decide today.” He said kindly.
Mr. Dawson chimed in.
“Dreams aren’t typically realized in one afternoon.”
“They happen one step at a time,” Craig said as he kissed her hand.
Becca would never forget those words.
An Unexpected Visitor
Stepping back onto the sidewalk, Becca heard someone yell her name.
“Rebecca!” She turned around to see Mrs. Alvarez, her old fifth-grade teacher, waving at her.
“Girl, I heard you got married!” She exclaimed.
Becca laughed and shook Mrs. Alvarez’s hand.
“I did.” She smiled.
Her eyes quickly met up with the building behind them.
“Oh, looking at the old bakery?” Mrs. Alvarez asked with excitement.
Becca hesitated.
“Maybe.”
The grin returned to Mrs. Alvarez’s face.
“Oh, I hope so.” She motioned towards the old building.
“We’ve been without a bakery since Mrs. Jenkins hung up her apron.” She winked.
Becca raised an eyebrow.
“You have no idea how many people still talk about Mrs. Jenkins’ cinnamon rolls.”
Becca blinked in astonishment.
“Really?” She responded sarcastically. As if there was a bakery down every street.
“Oh, you have no idea.” Mrs. Alvarez said with a gasp.
“If you open that bakery…” Craig started.
“…I’ll be your first customer.” Mrs. Alvarez finished.
Once she walked off, Becca turned to Craig with the biggest grin.
“That’s one.” He said proudly.
She laughed.
“I guess that is one.”
A Leap of Faith
Neither Craig nor Becca said much on the way home.
It wasn’t until they were pulling into their drive that Craig spoke up.
“What scared you more?” He asked her.
“The cost of buying it?” Becca answered.
“Or allowing yourself to think you deserve this?” He prompted.
Becca stared out the passenger window at her falling leaves.
She wanted to argue.
She wanted to say it was nothing.
But that wouldn’t be true.
Instead, she quietly whispered,
“The second one.”
Craig nodded knowingly.
“I thought so.” He sympathized.
He reached over the console and grasped her hand gently.
“For years you’ve told yourself your dreams should come last.”
Her thumb swiped across his fingers.
“I know.” She whispered.
“But you’re starting to realize that they don’t.”
His thumb brushed over her skin.
“Not anymore.” He finished for her.
Homemade Pizza
That night, all four of their children wanted to make homemade pizzas.
By the time Craig was rolling the dough, flour covered every surface of the kitchen.
The youngest had dumped an entire container of shredded cheese on Nugget’s head when our adventurous hen decided to wander into the kitchen through the open back door.
Nugget proudly strutted around as if she owned the place, chef hat and all.
Between laughing so hard, they couldn’t breathe, Craig scooped up Nugget.
“I can just see the health inspector shutting us down.”
Becca giggled until tears filled her eyes.
“Heck yeah, he will.”
“But she is so proud of herself,” Becca smirked.
The youngest went over to Nugget's head and kissed her.
“She’s family.”
“And family qualified you to work at a bakery,” Craig finished for her, laughing.
The Recipe Box
Once the kids were tucked in bed, Becca opened her grandmother’s recipe box.
She slowly skimmed through faded index cards.
Bread. Cookies. Pies. Rolls.
Her finger stopped on one card.
Grandma Rose’s Country Bakery Sugar Cookies
Becca laughed when she noticed, at the bottom of the recipe in neat handwriting, her grandmother had written:
Made with love. Shared with joy.
Becca traced her finger over the words.
Tears trickled down her cheeks.
She smiled at the thought.
Maybe this wasn’t just her dream after all.
Maybe it was something much bigger that had been passed down to her long before she ever knew it.
Carefully placing the recipe card back into the box, she knew tomorrow would bring lots of questions.
Calculations. Funds. More decisions.
But for now...
For the very first time,
That empty building on Main Street didn’t seem like such an impossibility.
It seemed like the start of something beautiful.
- Writer
