Chapter 7: Flour and Faith
1239 Words
The farmhouse kitchen buzzed with activity before dawn.
Becca tied on her favorite faded apron as country music drifted from the old radio on the windowsill.
Today was not about opening day.
Today was about finding the answer to one question.
*“Would people really buy my baking?” *
She placed Grandma Rose’s recipe box on the counter and smiled.
“I guess we’re about to find out.”
---
A Taste Test
Craig stumbled into the kitchen bleary-eyed.
“You’ve already started?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
He looked around the room, taking everything in.
Cookie dough was chilled in one bowl.
Bread dough rose beneath a towel.
Cinnamon rolls sat ready on baking sheets.
Blueberry muffins cooled on a wire rack.
He chuckled.
“I thought you said this was just a taste test.”
“It is.”
“This is enough to feed the whole county.”
She shrugged.
“I got excited.”
“I can tell.”
---
The Family Volunteers
The children trickled downstairs one by one, all drawn by the smell of cinnamon.
The youngest paused in the doorway.
“Are we having a party?”
“No,” Becca replied.
“We’re having helpers.”
The middle child stared at the growing mountain of baked goods.
“What do we have to do?”
Craig grinned.
“We’re opening a bakery…for today.”
The oldest beamed.
“What jobs can we do?”
Becca gave everyone something to do.
The oldest arranged treats are on serving trays.
The middle child folded napkins and poured lemonade.
The youngest carefully wrote little signs with colorful markers.
**Grandma’s Cinnamon Rolls**
**Fresh Blueberry Muffins**
**Country Sugar Cookies**
She proudly held up the last sign.
“I spelled everything correctly!”
“You did,” Becca said, kissing the top of her head.
“I’m so proud of you.”
---
The Front Porch Bakery
Instead of renting a booth at the county fair or placing a sign online, they simply placed a small folding table at the end of their gravel driveway.
A chalkboard sign stood next to it that read:
**Fresh Baked Goods Today**
**Donations Welcome**
Becca frowned.
“I know this is stupid.”
Craig wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
“It might be.”
“But it might not be.”
---
The First Customer
For almost twenty minutes…
Nothing.
Cars drove by.
Neighbors waved.
But no one stopped.
Becca fought the disappointment she felt in her chest.
“I knew they wouldn’t come.”
Craig gently squeezed her hand.
“Let’s just wait.”
Suddenly…
The pickup truck slowed.
The Hendersons’ oldest, Mrs. Henderson, climbed out of the passenger side, empty pie dish in hand.
“I heard there was baking going on today.”
The youngest giggled.
“I told her!”
They all laughed together.
Mrs. Henderson bent down and picked up a cinnamon roll.
She took a bite, closed her eyes, sighed, and then dug into her purse.
Putting a twenty-dollar bill on the table, she smiled.
“This is only five dollars.”
Mrs. Henderson winked.
“I’m investing in your future.”
---
Word Travels Fast
In the next hour, cars began to line the driveway.
Mrs. Alvarez arrived right on time.
“So…” she smiled.
“Is my little girl really the second customer?”
Becca laughed.
“She is.”
“I’ll take two dozen cookies.”
The young mother from down the street purchased muffins for her kids.
The mailman stopped by for a cinnamon roll.
Even the local mechanic bought a whole loaf of homemade bread.
By noon…
Their table was nearly empty.
The youngest yelled whenever someone drove up.
“We have a customer!”
“Someone is turning around!”
“They want pie!”
Craig laughed harder than he had in weeks.
---
Sold Out
By one o’clock…
EVERYTHING was gone.
Becca stared at the empty pans in disbelief.
“What just happened?”
Craig glanced at the cash box.
“I know.”
Her eyes widened as she slowly counted the money.
There was more than she’d expected.
In fact, several people had paid extra.
“Keep the change.” Others had said with toothy smiles.
Her eyes filled with tears as she looked up at Craig.
“They liked my baking.”
Craig shook his head, smiling.
“No. Everyone who came today…”
“They tasted your baking,” She finished for him.
“And they BELIEVED in your dream.”
---
A Quiet Celebration
That night, they celebrated the unofficial opening of her bakery by ordering pizza and eating off paper plates.
Garlic bread replaced dessert.
The youngest raised her Dixie cup of lemonade.
“Toasting!” she shouted.
Everyone looked at her with curiosity.
“To Mom opening her very own bakery!” she continued.
Craig clinked his glass of sweet tea against hers.
“To dreams that have been waiting for their chance.”
Her oldest smiled.
“To Grandma Rose.”
The middle child smiled.
“And cinnamon rolls.”
They all laughed together as they clinked their glasses together.
---
One More Step
After dinner that night, Craig and Becca relaxed on the front porch swing.
The summer night was warm with the smell of freshly cut grass.
Fireflies blinked in and out all around the yard.
Craig reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Open it.” He said with a grin.
Inside was a business card.
At the top, the name and phone number of a local small- business banker was printed.
“I stopped by his office earlier.”
Becca looked up at him, surprised.
“You did?”
“I helped people get small business loans.” He said casually.
Her eyes widened as she stared at the card.
“You went to him without me?” she asked nervously.
Craig smiled.
“I made a phone call.” He paused.
“That’s all.”
The rest, “He said,” He motioned toward heaven, “Is up to you.”
She rested her head against his chest.
“I think…I think I am ready.”
He kissed the top of her head.
“I know you are, Baby.”
---
The Recipe Card
Before bed that night, Becca placed Grandma Rose’s sugar cookie recipe back into her weathered box.
When she snapped the lid shut, another scrap of paper fell out from underneath.
She frowned, picking it up.
“I don’t remember Grandma having this one.”
Carefully unfolding the brittle paper, Becca realized she recognized her grandmother’s handwriting instantly.
At the top, it read:
**For Whoever Dreams After Me**
Becca felt her heart skip a beat.
Slowly, she pulled out the chair from the kitchen table and sat down. Her hands shook as she held the letter.
She didn’t want to read it.
Not yet.
Tonight was for celebrating.
“This can wait until tomorrow,” She whispered.
Tucking it carefully back inside, she placed her hand on top of it.
Outside, the porch light gently illuminated the garden.
Inside, the recipe box rested on the kitchen table.
And inside that box was more than just recipes.
It was legacy.
One that Grandma Rose had left for Becca to pick up where she left off.
And Becca was finally ready.
- Writer
