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CHAPTER 5

Bucket List No. 2: Get a job

The moment Cammie walked through the door of the Flour Power bakery, she was hit with the intoxicating aroma of freshly baked goods—a symphony of sugary delights. The second thing that hit her was the thought that maybe she should have eaten something prior to her arrival. Her waistline wasn’t going to be happy with her if the scents were any indication of the tasty quality of the treats.

Making her way to the counter, she took in the atmosphere. The bakery had a retro hippie feel. Bright teal tables shone, each surrounded by chairs in a rainbow of contrasting colors: teal, red, yellow, purple, and orange, creating a cheerful and vibrant atmosphere. Hanging above the tables were whimsical lights, each one shaped like an orange mushroom, adding a touch of whimsy to the scene. One wall showcased a long bench seat that spanned several tables, adorned with an array of colorful pillows of various textures that invited a person to sit and stay a while.

But the counter itself was the true statement piece. The construction consisted of numerous strips of wood, each individually painted with a distinct color from the spectrum of the rainbow, creating a visually striking piece. The woman behind the counter was a vision in swirling colors, matching the vibrant decor, her laughter as she chatted with customers echoed the room’s lively energy. Her animated conversation was underscored by a delightful tinkling; the many bangles she wore on her wrists chimed rhythmically, a percussive accompaniment to the lively flow of her speech.

From the moment she laid eyes on the spirited woman, who was well into her sixties, Cammie knew that she was completely and utterly enamored. And when the woman spoke to her, she knew she’d found a kindred spirit.

“What’s a pirate’s favorite letter?” the woman asked as soon as Cammie reached the counter.

Utterly bewildered by the woman’s words, she asked, “What?” The unexpected question left her completely perplexed, and her mind raced to make sense of it.

“What is a pirate’s favorite letter?” she asked again, pausing only slightly before giving an answer. “P. Otherwise they’d be irate.”

Cammie blinked, a moment of confusion washing over her before her words finally registered. The sudden, unexpected joke from the woman surprised her, but then she dissolved into peals of laughter.

“I’ve never been greeted in such an unusual manner,” Cammie said once she’d gotten her amusement under control.

“I like to keep things interesting around here,” the woman replied.

“I like it.”

With a graceful bow of her head, the woman’s earrings, adorned with tiny bells, created a sweet, melodic chime that echoed softly in the air. “I aim but to please. I find greeting people with a little levity brightens even the darkest day they may be experiencing.”

Cammie was so captivated by the woman that all she could think was how much she wanted to be just like her when she was her age, admiring her poise and confidence. Having grown up under her father’s rigid control, where she was expected to present a certain image at all times, she found the freedom to express herself through her words and clothing to be incredibly valuable. And now that she had her freedom, she intended to make the most of it. Hence her Little Victories Bucket List. She was determined to embark on a journey to engage in activities and adventures that would have previously been beyond the realm of possibility for her. She wanted to push her boundaries, to taste the unfamiliar, to feel the earth beneath her feet in ways she’d never imagined, to experience the unknown with all her senses.

The idea may have seemed fantastical, a flight of fancy to some, but she felt its necessity in her bones.

“I bet it works wonders,” Cammie replied.

“More often than not. I’m Marilyn Lenzer, the owner of this fine establishment.”

“Camila Pierce,” she replied hesitantly, the name still feeling foreign and awkward on her tongue.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Camila.”

“Cammie, please.”

“Cammie,” the woman said, a warm smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. “So, what can I get for you?”

“Well, I was hoping . . . that is . . . um . . .” Suddenly, her nerves were leaving her tongue tied. She’d never asked someone for a job before and didn’t know if there were certain protocols she should follow. She didn’t want to make a mistake and offend the pleasant woman.

“Spit it out, sweetie. There’s no need to be shy in my shop.”

“I heard you might be looking to hire,” she blurted out. It wasn’t exactly a polished request, no doubt lacking in finesse, but it was all she could manage in that moment.

With a critical tilt of her head, Marilyn assessed Cammie, her lips pursed thoughtfully. “Do you bake?”

“Well, no. But . . .” Darn. She hadn’t considered the fact that Marilyn might want someone who could bake. Panicked, she blurted, “Coffee!”

“What was that?”

Darn it. She was messing this up royally. “I, uh, I dabble in coffee. That is, I like creating different brews. Finding the perfect beans. I can make anything from a latte to a cappuccino and everything in between.”

Marilyn’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The tiny bells at Marilyn's ears chimed merrily as she waved her hand. “Forget that ma’am shit. I ain’t no ma’am.”

“I’m sorr―”

“And don’t ever apologize to me.” Flabbergasted, Cammie’s mouth snapped shut with a little click. This woman was a force to be reckoned with, and Cammie found herself strangely drawn to her. “Now, if you can make me a perfect macchiato, you’re hired.”

Excitement surged through Cammie, a thrilling rush that made her heart pound like a drum and ignited a spark of hope. “Really?”

Marilyn gestured to the machines behind the counter. “Please. Have at it.”

A joyful grin split Cammie’s face as she sprang into action, a thrill running through her. God, she loved small towns, and the trust people had in total strangers. She loved the quaint, welcoming feel, where people greeted each other with a warmth that made her feel safe and at home, even among strangers.

She thought of Wade from the other day and his willingness to help a perfect stranger. And now Marilyn’s trust. In her former life in LA, a daily dose of indifference had become the norm and anonymity was constant. Even among the people in her own household. They would have stepped over her had she been bleeding out at their feet. As evidenced by the callous regard her father had shown her when she’d been kidnapped.

But in small towns, the simple trust people placed in total strangers, the way neighbors helped each other without question, it filled her with a deep sense of contentment. For the first time in her life, a sense of belonging washed over her, a feeling she had never experienced before.

The equipment Marilyn owned was older than she was used to using, but she could make do. She got to work and almost immediately there was a shift in aromas. The sugary sweetness of freshly baked goods gave way to the rich, earthy fragrance of coffee, a familiar and comforting scent that instantly calmed Cammie.

Having meticulously incorporated the final bit of dry foam from the frothing device onto the espresso’s surface, she let out a sigh of contentment, fully appreciating the drink’s flawless presentation. Nervously, she carefully carried the mug to Marilyn and held her breath as the woman took a sip. She watched closely as Marilyn’s brows rose, a slow, pleasant surprise dawning on her face, a subtle smile playing on her lips.

“Ohmigod. This is magic in a cup,” she stated before taking another sip and letting out a delighted moan.

A wave of pride washed over Cammie, so intense it brought a surprising sting of tears to her eyes. She’d never felt anything like it. Throughout her entire life, she had never once received a compliment or any form of praise from anyone. This was a completely new and unexpected experience for her and her emotions were all over the place.

A tinkling sound at the door drew her attention as a customer entered. “Marilyn,” the woman exclaimed, her nostrils flaring slightly as she inhaled deeply. “What is that heavenly smell?”

“That is the creation from my newest employee,” Marilyn declared, and Cammie’s heart soared. She couldn’t keep the smile from her face if she tried.

“Really?” Cammie asked as hope swelled within her.

“Abso-fuckin-lutely,” Marilyn replied, making her giggle. “When can you start?”

“Please say immediately,” the customer begged.

“Um . . . immediately?”

Marilyn smiled and handed her an apron with the Flour Power logo on the bib. “Just what I was hoping to hear.” She then turned to her customer. “Where do pirates get their hooks?” she asked.

The woman, obviously used to the unusual greeting answered patiently, “I don’t know. Where?”

“The secondhand store.” Marilyn winked at Cammie before saying, “It’s pirate day.” A fit of unrestrained laughter erupted from her, shaking her whole body with mirth. As they laughed, the lovely tinkling melody of Marilyn’s bells played on, and with it, Cammie felt a previously unnoticed weight lift from her shoulders.

She dove into her new job with relish. Happily filling orders and basking in the words of praise from the community. Her community. Bell Creek’s charm was settling into her soul, leaving an indelible mark and a sense of belonging and safety unlike any other place she had ever known. In her heart, she offered a silent prayer, a fervent hope that this feeling, this moment, this happiness, would endure.