Page 143 of Theirs for the Holidays

I worked more than that to keep the bakery going, but that was forme.That was mine. I don’t want to punch a clock for someone else, or have to conform my dreams and ideas to what someone else wants.

I thrived with the freedom the bakery offered me, and I don’t want to lose that.

I don’t have any idea how to get it back, though.

I do some research into other buildings, trying to see how much I could afford. Maybe if I took out a loan or something, I could manage it. I’d have to have a lot more business to cover the costs though. Seeing how much things cost just makes me feel even more stressed about the whole situation.

A few days after the new year, I get up and go to the bank. I need some cash and maybe I can talk to someone about loans or financial planning or something. I have the passing thought that the guys are probably good at this kind of thing, but I dismiss it just as quickly. Reaching out for the first time to ask for help doesn’t feel right.

I go to the ATM first, putting in my card to see how much I can take out. I stomp my feet against the cold, rubbing my arms to stay warm as I wait for the numbers to pop up on the screen—but when they do, I nearly choke on my own spit when I see the balance in my account.

It’s been higher in recent weeks than it was before, but unless there’s a glitch on the screen or I’m having a really weird dream, then something very strange is going on.

Because the number blinking on the screen haswaytoo many zeros.

“What on earth?” I whisper to myself.

I close out of the transaction and put my card in again, but the number stays the same. There are over fifty million dollars sitting in my account.

Heart pounding, I punch the buttons to retrieve my card, glancing around almost guiltily as if someone is going to storm up to me and accuse me of trying to rob the bank.

There has to be some mistake, I tell myself as I head inside the bank, my heart thudding against my ribs.I’ll just clear it up, and it will be fine.

“Hi, can I help you?” The teller greets me with a smile, and I step up to the counter, clearing my throat and feeling a bit silly for what I’m about to say.

“Um, hi.” I try to erase the startled, slightly guilty look on my face. “This is probably just a glitch or something, but there’s a lot more money in my account than I was expecting there to be, and I was just wondering if you could pull it up and… I don’t know, verify it? Or something?”

“Of course,” she says. “I just need your card and your ID.”

I hand them both over to her, and she taps on her keyboard for a few seconds before scanning the screen. I see the moment her eyes go wide, and it strikes me that it’s probably about the same way I looked when I saw the screen on the ATM outside.

“Ohwow.” Her brows shoot upward. “That’s a lot of money.”

“I know,” I tell her. “And I didn’t deposit it, so I have no idea where it came from.”

“Let’s see if I can track it,” she says. She types for another minute or two and then looks up at me. “There are three deposits here,” she says. “Each for quite a bit of money. The first one is from an account tagged to the last name Sullivan… actually, all three are from Sullivan accounts, but they’re all from different banks. Do you recognize that name?”

I swallow hard.

Because of course I do. But there’s no way they would do something like that, right? I know they have money to throw around, and I remember how much they bid at the charity auction to win a baking lesson with me, but this makes that look like loose change.

“I do,” I tell the teller. “I’m just… sorry.” I shake myself. “I’m just confused why they would do this.”

“I wish I had friends who deposited this much money into my account,” she jokes. “But it does seem to be legitimate. If you want, I can contact the bank these came through just to be sure, but if you know them and they have access to these kinds of funds…”

“Yeah, you don’t have to do that,” I tell her. “I know them, and yeah, they do have this kind of money. Um, thanks for your help.”

I walk out of the bank feeling bewildered and unbalanced. The gifts and gestures were one thing, but this is on another level.

I scroll back through my messages to where they told me where they were staying and put the address into my GPS.

The only way to get to the bottom of this is to go to them directly.

47

VIOLET

The housethey’re renting isn’t what I expected.