Chapter 15: Grand Opening

The line for Ames and Doyle Bakehouse ran forty people down Lorain Avenue by nine on Saturday morning.

I joined the end of it in my green dress with my hair tied back.

My croissant with the heart was painted on the front window.

The chalkboard menu said pear tart, rye croissant and brown butter cake, and every one of them had my handwriting in the recipe.

I had slept six hours in my own staff bed, alone, and I felt calm all the way through.

Kayla was behind the register in her red wrap dress.

Troy stood next to the ovens in his navy blazer, shaking hands.

When I reached the counter, Kayla's whole face lit up.

"Everybody!" she said to the line. "My best friend, Jo! The pear tart is hers!"

People clapped.

It was the same clap as the ballroom, warm and easy, and I stood in it and waited for it to stop.

"I'll have a pear tart, please," I said.

"On the house, babe."

"No. I'll pay."

I put a ten on the counter.

She rang it up with her teeth showing, and handed me change and a paper bag.

"I'd like the receipt," I said.

The printer ground out a slip.

I folded it into my wallet, because Mrs. Lund still had my shoebox.

"I read the ledger, Kayla," I said, quietly enough that only the first three people could hear.

Her smile held.

"What ledger?"

"The trust. My parents left money for me. Mrs. Lund paid you four hundred dollars a month out of it, for seven years, to be my friend."