A recipe of love

Bake

The morning sun cast a warm glow through the tall windows of Nathaniel's estate, spilling across the grand entryway and heralding the start of a new day. In the courtyard just beyond the house, laughter rang out, light and unrestrained, as Timothy dashed through the morning dew with Nathaniel at his heels.

"Faster, Papa! You can't catch me!" Timothy squealed, his tiny legs racing across the gravel path, his reddish hair glinting like copper in the sunlight.

"Is that so?" Nathaniel called back, feigning a look of sheer determination as he lunged forward, his boots crunching on the gravel. "Oh, but I am swifter than you know!"

With a surge of energy, Nathaniel closed the gap between them, sweeping Timothy up into his arms as the boy shrieked with delight. He spun him around in an arc, lifting him high above his head before lowering him back to his hip. Timothy giggled uncontrollably, his laughter filling Nathaniel's heart with a rare sense of contentment.

"There, caught at last!" Nathaniel declared with a triumphant grin, pressing a quick kiss to his son's forehead. "Now, my fine lad, I must prepare for the day. Duty calls, and I must attend to it."

Timothy pouted, clinging tightly to his father's coat. "But Papa, can't I come with you?"

Nathaniel laughed softly, ruffling his son's hair. "I fear you would be dreadfully bored watching me shuffle papers and inspect pastries, my little one. I shall be back soon enough, and we can continue our games, I promise."

With one last hug, Nathaniel gently set Timothy down, watching him dash off toward the house before he turned to make his way to the family's patisserie business.

The patisserie stood proudly in the heart of town, a charming establishment with gleaming windows that showcased rows upon rows of delicate pastries and confections. Inside, the air was filled with the warm, comforting aroma of freshly baked croissants, buttery madeleines, and a hint of vanilla.

As Nathaniel entered, the workers greeted him warmly, their faces alight with satisfaction. He exchanged a few words with each of them, asking after their families, and took a moment to inspect the display cases. Every pastry was meticulously crafted, arranged with care to create a feast for the eyes as well as the palate.

"Excellent work," he commended one of the head bakers, his voice warm. "The éclairs look particularly exquisite this morning."

"Thank you, sir," Mr. Hawthorne replied, a proud smile tugging at his lips. "The team has really outdone themselves today. We've had customers queuing outside since dawn."

Nathaniel surveyed the shop with a sense of quiet pride. The establishment had flourished under his guidance, becoming a beloved fixture in town, a place where people gathered to indulge in sweet moments amidst their busy lives. Here, he felt a sense of purpose, a satisfaction that eluded him elsewhere.

After ensuring all was in order and congratulating his staff on their efforts, Nathaniel decided to take a brief stroll through the park before returning to the estate. The air was fresh, with the faintest hint of blossoms drifting on the breeze as he walked among the shaded pathways lined with ancient oaks and fragrant rose bushes. The park was peaceful, a respite from the demands of his daily life, and as he walked, memories of his days in France drifted through his mind.

In France, life had seemed simpler, unburdened by the weight of obligation that now bore down upon him. He thought of Etienne, his closest friend, who had been like a brother to him in those carefree days. Together, they had shared laughter, dreams, and secrets, wandering the lively streets of Paris, savoring every moment of freedom. A faint smile played on Nathaniel's lips as he recalled their escapades, the hushed conversations that stretched into the early hours. He wondered if Etienne was well, if he still roamed the same streets, his laughter as bright as ever.