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“Please tell me you’re going to open another bakery. We’re in dire need of one around here. It’s a food desert. I’d die for key lime pie and real sourdough bread.”

“I hadn’t thought about adding bread to the list. Do you think they’d be worth the effort and expense?”

Willow’s face lights up. “Yes! A bakery. Yes, I believe so. None of the local markets carry fresh baked bread. It might be such a hit you need to add an employee or two. Or perhaps a waiting list.” She adds the last with a laugh.

“I have a friend with a hundred-year-old sourdough starter. When I’m ready to test recipes, I’ll ask him to send some.”

“Omigod, I think I love you.”

I laugh.

“I’m giving you an extra twenty-five percent discount today.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Let me ring you up and I’ll write the directions down for you. That way, you’ll have them until you’ve been a few times.

I nod. “Yes. Thank you again. Everyone is so welcoming.”

“It’s a friendly town. You’ll get to know everyone soon. The last owner didn’t go out of business. She passed and no one in her family wanted to run the bakery.”

“Oh, that’s so sad. Looks like I have big shoes to fill.”

“I volunteer for tribute. I’ll taste test anything you want.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

??

Gypsy gave me easy to follow directions.

I find myself pulling down the long driveway. When I pass the half-mile marker, I wonder if I’ve taken a wrong turn. The note does say “loooooong” driveway. I keep going another quarter a mile before I see what can only be described as a log mansion. I take a right and go another half mile before the Bed andBreakfast comes into view. It’s an elegant old Victorian done in creams and blues.

I pull into a designated parking space. Before my car is turned off, a lanky young man comes out. He tips his hat and opens my door.

“Mrs. Buffet?”

“That’s me.”

“My name is Jack. Can I take your luggage? Mrs. Bennett has you in the Belle Starr suite. She’s waiting for you in the parlor with some refreshments. I’ll take you there.”

I unlock the back of the SUV and step aside to allow the young man to gather my luggage. I have three days to get the apartment in order. I sold most of my expensive wardrobe to pad my bank account. I don’t get anything until the divorce is final and I fought tooth and nail to get what little I did. The prenup mysteriously changed the wording and my signature appeared on something I never signed. That’s a story for another day. I sigh, weary from the thought of dealing with all of Roger’s BS.

I follow Jack into the house, past the well-appointed foyer and into a Victorian style parlor. A woman maybe a decade over my own thirty-eight years sits inside. She has long strawberry blonde hair and warm brown eyes. She rises to greet me.

“Mrs. Buffett?”

“That’s me,” I say with a smile.

“I’m Cecilia Bennett. Please call me Cece.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Cece. Please call me Ruby.”

“Ruby, I have tea set up for us.”

I look at the cart beside the small table for two. A teapot, a tiered tray filled with sweets, and a small platter of finger sandwiches sits on top of it. I follow Cece to the table, accepting her offer of a cup of steaming hot tea. I add a finger sandwich and some sweets to my plate.

“What brings you to our sleepy little town?” she asks.