Chapter 1
Jocelyn
It’s early morning and I’m already at work in the small bakery I run in a quiet Pittsburgh neighborhood. Having to get up and get out of the house before dawn is nothing new, but that’s okay, though, because I love what I do.
Due to my son, Maxim, though, it means operating without a lot of sleep. Usually he still gets up several times a night, which is exhausting. Then there are nights when he doesn’t wake up, but even then, I still have to get up even earlier to nurse him before I can come into work, but it’s all worth it.
I mean, obviously, I love my son. I’m extremely grateful that not only am I mom, but I also have the chance to have my own career and business as well. Although, lately, I have been worried about how long I’ll still get to do it, since so far, it seems to be running on the generosity of others.
I shrug off my thoughts and instead focus on measuring ingredients for the dough. I don’t need to feel so depressed this early in the morning. I still have a few hours left before normal business hours, but I couldn’t wait to get my hand in the dough.
So here I am, kneading dough and baking cinnamon buns while watching the sun slowly rise through the windows of my shop. I sigh happily. I find such peace when I work alone like this. I enjoy the silence and stillness of the empty bakery as I work.
I’m lost in my work and I’m not sure how much time has passed. But after a while, there’s a knock at the door which startles me in the emptiness of the bakery.
I clean the dough off my hands and wonder who it could be. No doubt it’s some customer who is trying to come earlier than usual, even though we aren’t open yet.
The sun isn’t fully out yet, so I have to squint a little to see who’s there. I gulp softly when I see my Uncle Bob. He’s waiting patiently for me to open the door.
I go to the door and my heart pounds in my chest as I open it for him. He walks inside the bakery and I lock the door behind him.
I’ve been putting this conversation off for a while now, but I know I can’t avoid it any longer. I turn to look at him and wish again that this wasn’t happening, but now is as good a time as any, since he has gone out of his way to show up here.
“Good Morning, Uncle Bob,” I greet him, trying to sound cheerful.
He ignores my comment and looks around the place. I can tell by his facial expressions that he’s in a bad mood. I try not to let that scare me, but it doesn’t work.
“So, how are things with you?” I ask.
I’m trying again to be polite. He clears his throat and looks back at me.
“Been better,” he replies.
He runs his palms together anxiously.
“That’s good to hear. Maxim says hi,” I tell him.
I’m trying to stall the actual conversation as long as I can, even though I know it needs to be had.
Uncle Bob sighs irritably.
“Look, I don’t have time for all this chitchat. The sun isn’t even out yet. I’d like to get back home and rest while I still can,” he snaps.
I try not to flinch at the rude tone in his voice.
“Oh, ok. So, what brings you here today?” I ask.
I’m trying to act like I don’t already know.
He sighs again in exasperation.
“You know why I’m here. It’s the same reason I’m always here. Now, do you have the payment on my loan or not?” he asks.
I swallow at the anger in his tone.
“Um, I think I have a little bit of it,” I reply softly as I hurry past him to the cash register.
I’m eager to put some distance between us. He crosses his arms and taps his foot impatiently as I open the register. My face falls as I pull out the money. I close the register and slowly walk back over to him.
“Um, all I have is $100,” I stammer, as I hesitantly hold it out to him.
He stares at me in shock and his face is turning red. He’s clearly getting angry.
“You know you owe me so much more than that. For months I have been waiting and waiting and you only give me little payments each time!” he shouts at me.
I try to keep my hands from shaking as he snatches the money from me and shoves it roughly in his pocket.
“I will have more soon; I’ll continue to pay you back, I promise,” I say, feeling a little fearful.
He waves his hand at me in irritation.
“I’m tired of hearing that. It’s all you ever say. I will give you a few more weeks and then I’ll have to evict you. I can’t pay bills on empty promises. I’m tired of waiting for my money,” he snaps at me.