It Leads to Your Heart. [NOT EDITED]

12

2 cups of sugar, done. 200g of butter, done. A splash of vanilla, done. Moving the strands that escaped the messy bun out of my face, I sigh heavily as my eyes run over the cluttered kitchen. Focus Dior, focus! You still have another batch to make and to throw in the oven before the clock strikes six.

Dumping all the sweet measurements into the mixing bowl, I let my mind seek comfort and solitude in the most soothing act my mind could ever come up with, baking. Batch after batch are freshly pulled out of the oven ready to be cooled, packed and dropped by the Spilled Cup coffee shop at the end of the street.

The owner is one of the Griffin's daughter in law, she is a sweet girl that recently opened a new coffee shop in the neighborhood. Her business flourished and now she is in the process of opening another one a bit further down the area.

Heather once tasted the apple and maple cake that I happened to have dropped at her parent's place that day, and demanded to know from where they had gotten it from. In her words, it was a piece of a warm home in a winter blaze, she fell in love. Right after, she came up to me introducing herself and offering me a job as a baker at her newly two weeks past opening café. I was thrilled by her offer, but I had to politely refuse. I had a lot already on my plate and baking for me was a hobby, a way from me to distract myself when I needed to. I didn't picture myself baking for a source of living, but more of something to do at home, with my family, one day. Plus, writing was my passion, my real work.
She was persuasive enough to talk me through supplying her with the cake on weekly basis. Her offer sounded tempting, and we ended up shaking hands with wide smile's on our faces moments after. And now six months in, I do not regret it. It brought me immense joy whenever she would tell me how people are obsessing over it and the regulars that make sure to come a long way just for the sweet bite.

My alarm blared off, meaning that it I am right on time. Closing the last of the four boxes of cake, I glance at the windows taking notice of how the sun slowly rising and welcoming the new day.

It's a new day Dior.

Getting ready to drop the cakes off and head to work. I hop in the shower taking my time into washing my hair thoroughly and body, wanting today to be different. By seven thirty I was out of the door and already handing the last cake to Russell. Smiling at him, waving softly before turning around to jump in my car I hear him running back out calling my name. "Hey, I have prepared this for you just before you have pulled over. Take it along." He hands me a steaming to go cup of coffee and paper bad probably carrying a sandwich of some kind. Touched by the thought, I grin as I ruffle his curls. He is a nineteen-year-old cute boy, dropped out of unit this year calming that it just not for him. He has been working with heather since she opened this café, he invested part of his earnings into the new café that it to open next month. Calming that he starting to take baby steps into the business world. The kid is bright and hardworking, his potential is just so refreshing and envy worthy.

"Feeling better darling?" Her voice made a smile play on my face before I move my eyes towards her, seeing her coming my way. "Good morning Mrs. Ivy. Yes, better than ever."
"HumHum." She hums nodding her head as her eyes scan my face and slowly with a lip twitch, they glide on my form. Its near lunch hour and everyone is already starting to fuzz and buzz around. Some already called their hour and left, while others gathered for a chitchatted while waiting on the clock to tick. However, a much lesser lot was still buried neck deep in either papers or screen and surely I was one too up until Mrs. Ivy made it to my booth.

"You look... Different. Did something happen?" Well, I did have to lay in the hospital, if that counts as something. My mum never thought I was worthy enough to tell me she is divorced and was sick or that my father was dead for more than half of my life. and I'm getting married to some ghost. My eyes may have showed enough contemplation to her question that might have caused her surprising elaboration of words. "You look good Dior. Different. Healthier than ever even, rose did touch up your round cheeks. However, I reckon there is something else that makes your air different than any other day."