Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
I sigh, knowing she’s right. Ever since we lost Peter, I’ve kept them close, probably too close, but when you watch your husband die in front of you—and four years later, your grandma dies from a heart attack—you tend to realize just how fragile life really is. Even though Peter said the condition wasn’t genetic, I still had the kids evaluated, not wanting to take any chances. Thankfully, as of now, they’re both healthy with no signs of heart problems, but it doesn’t stop me from worrying.
“How long is Sammy gone for, again?” I ask as we walk toward the back door of the coffeehouse. Sammy is Lacey’s fifteen-year-old son—she and her husband, Samuel, got pregnant our senior year of high school. It was a shock, but they handled it better than I would have at that age. That’s for sure.
“Football camp is for four weeks, but once he gets back, he’ll have practice every day. Which means…” Lacey grins mischievously. “It’s you and me all summer, since my darling husband is eyeballs-deep in a project he’s working on and won’t be coming up for air any time soon.” Her husband is an architect and from what she’s told me, an amazing one at that.
“Don’t even think about it,” I say, giving her the side-eye, already knowing where she’s going with this.
“What?” she says innocently.
“You know what. Did Beatrice put you up to this? I swear the woman is more determined to get me laid than I am.”
Lacey cracks up. “She also gets laid more than you do.”
“Truth.” I cringe, not wanting to think about my in-laws’ sex life.
We head back inside Heart’s Coffeehouse and Bakery—our family surname of “Heart” prominently on display. It was my grandparents’ pride and joy, left to me when my grandma passed away. She and my grandfather opened it just over fifty years ago and lived in the apartments directly above it, both of them running it together until a tragic car accident claimed his life.
With the coffeehouse being my grandparents’ favorite place to be, I practically grew up here, and now, since it’s my favorite place, my kids have grown up here as well. Just like my grandparents, the kids and I live in the apartments just above the bakery.
After Peter died, I couldn’t keep the home we owned, at least not without stretching myself too thin. And, if I’m being honest, I couldn’t handle the constant onslaught of images resulting from that fateful morning. So, we moved into one of the apartments above the coffeehouse, allowing us to be close to my grandma, while also enabling me to take the money I made off the sale of the house and put it into savings. It was also convenient since I have to be here in the early mornings and evenings several times a week to bake and open the shop. Since my grandma passed away, Lacey has taken over opening in the morning so I can get the kids to school. When they say it takes a village, they really aren’t kidding, and I’m extremely fortunate to have the best village helping me raise my kids.
Lacey bumps my shoulder with hers. “So, I was thinking… after we close, we could get dressed up, put on some makeup, and go out to Wine and Dine. Make it a ladies’ night out.”
I internally groan, even though I knew this was coming. And since I know that Lacey isn’t going to drop it until she gets me out, I decide to get it over with. “Sure,” I tell her. “Sounds good.”
She squeals in delight. “Yes! We’re going to have so much fun. We should go shopping too, since I know your wardrobe could use a major overhaul.”
I glare her way. “Now you’re pushing your luck.” I hated shopping before I had my kids, but now, with my curvy mom bod (Okay, fine, it’s not all from my kids. Some of it is because I love sweets and spend most of my time baking and trying new recipes) shopping is my least favorite thing to do. It’s not that I hate my body—I’m okay with having curves, but it’s hard to shop for clothes when it feels like everything that’s cute is meant for a size three.
“Fine.” She raises her hands, waving the metaphorical white flag. “But we should still go shopping soon.”
The rest of our day is spent serving customers. The coffeehouse offers all types of drinks, as well as freshly baked goods. I make a variety of items, depending on my mood, and once we sell out, that’s it. Because Heart’s has been around for so long, we stay busy and almost always sell out before it’s closing time.
Lacey and I run the front together, and I have a couple college students come in for a few hours every morning to help with the rush—and sometimes in the afternoons—if I have something to do. Since all the baking gets done ahead of time, when it’s three o’clock, all we have to do is clean before we lock up.