Bake Me Out Tonight

Prologue

Juniper

Two years ago...

After adding a tenth block of butter to my cart, I cross off the last thing on my grocery list. My weekly grocery shopping for the upcoming orders for the week had taken less time than I expected. My at home bakery, Bake Me Out Tonight, has been becoming more popular in recent months. I already had forty people reach out to me for cakes this month. Dreams of owning an actual bakery swim through my mind.

If only.

Opening a bakery in a storefront would finally get my father to see my success. Or it won't even register to The Theodore Hart, five-star Michelin Chef and owner of the most luxurious restaurant in New York. Dad had begged after I finished culinary school to come work at his restaurant or really any restaurant. But my love for baking and cake decorating had won out. And I stood by my decision to this day.

Even though my father didn't agree, he still supported me. Or so he says. Who can tell when he never misses a chance to tell me that I made a huge mistake and that I should become a "real chef." I have no idea why he thinks pastry chefs are beneath him.

After months of fighting with my dad, he finally realized I wasn't going to change my mind. He set me up in a nice apartment less than twenty minutes from his house. He also had the kitchen renovated for all my baking needs.

That had been a surprise. "Every chef deserves a good kitchen to work in." he had said. He only grumbled a bit when I corrected him with 'every baker'. "Consider it a graduation gift. Everything else you need, will have to come from you."

"I know Dad." I hardly noticed his obvious disappointment in my choice because I was in awe the first time I stepped into the apartment and saw the eight-foot island with lots of counter space. A big, gorgeous refrigerator stood tall at the head of the island. So much space to store cakes and my ingredients. I rounded the island to the other side, built into the island – two double ovens. That made me cry.

Correction: that made me sob.

Hysterically.

I was a blubbering mess as I hugged my dad and thanked him endlessly. Even a year later I still thank him every time I see him. It was better than any Christmas or Birthday gift I had ever gotten.

I love my at-home bakery, love working at home. My workdays were spent binging movies, podcasts, or simply listening to music as I baked. I had created a schedule but with the influx of orders I might need to reevaluate. I make a mental note to work on that on my next planning day.

The increase in business had really put a pep in my step. I was standing taller with the taste of success in my mouth. Hence – the delusions of opening a storefront.

I told myself if I did ever get to open one, it would be on my own merit. Not because my father was who he was because even though my father wouldn't be actively helping, his name alone would open so many doors for me. I don't even want his help indirectly. With that being said, doing it on your own is hard. Expensive. I'd need to get a loan, and although business is on a climb, I don't make enough money as a business. My only other option would be an investor, but, once again, I don't make enough money for anyone to want to take a chance on me.

I'd be lying if I said the increase in orders hadn't given me a little hope. But I'm nowhere near ready to open a storefront. Financially, mentally, or physically.

That didn't mean I didn't dream about what my future bakery would look like. I would want it to be a café as well. Somewhere cozy for people to work. I want to sell more than just cakes and cupcakes. I want a variety of pastries like croissants or muffins.