-Chapter One-
With decisive moves, Tora Hammond taped a “For Sale” sign to the inside of the front window of the Sugar & Spice Bakery—a simple act that could lead to all sorts of exciting possibilities, but one that still brought a hard lump to her throat. Don’t think about it.
“My new life starts today.” She turned and proclaimed her vow to an empty room that contained a dozen small circular tables and white wrought-iron chairs. The 1950s soda shop décor had been her idea and she loved the retro look. Gooseflesh rose on her arms and a wisp of breeze brushed her cheek. She instinctively ducked, thinking she’d angered an old family ghost. Maybe the sensation was caused by her guilt at the monumental life change she had planned.
Through the front window, headlights blazed wavy trails along the shop windows on the opposite side of the main street of Dorado, Texas. Larson’s Shoe Repair, Henderson & Henderson-Accountants, Speedy Cleaners, Morgan’s Clocks. The imposing granite block Texas Prospect Bank building claimed the corner of First and Prairie Streets.
For as long as she could remember, she’d gazed at life through the plate glass window of the family-owned bakery. Granted, the breadth of the view had changed over the years as she moved from peeking around Gram’s long skirts to stretching on tip-toes to gaze over the counter, to bumping elbows with her jeans-and-sweaters clad Mama, and now having free rein as she ran the entire shop by herself.
Through those years, she’d baked and donated thousands of dozens of cookies, brownies, and coffee cakes to raise funds for everything from football bleachers to band uniforms, to specialized equipment for the town’s ambulance. Whatever was needed, the townspeople could count on delicious donations from the women of the Hammond family. Daily, except Sundays, she’d greeted people as they grabbed a breakfast pastry and scurried to their jobs or dropped by for a treat between errands. She’d given advice on the size and style of their wedding cakes, invented specially shaped cakes for their baby showers, and eventually for their children’s birthday parties. Each time using the same age-old family recipes, and all from behind the oak-trimmed display case built by Tora’s beloved grandfather, Nils.
She ran a hand along its edge, worn smooth and darkened from years of wear. Her throat swelled at the realization she’d lose this tangible connection to a much-loved and much-missed gentle man.
The cell phone in her apron pocket chimed like a xylophone. Tora dug it out, glanced at the display showing her best friend’s name, and then tapped the rectangle marked accept. “Hello, Krissy.”
“So, did you hang the sign?”
Krissy’s voice sounded high and breathy, and Tora knew her friend hoped she’d changed her mind. “Yes, I put it up. No telling when, or if, Mama will return from Arizona after Gram is well. I bet she’ll love the dry heat and will want to stay. And Mama did say the choice was mine.”
“I don’t know what the people of Dorado will do without a bakery run by a Hammond woman. A forty-five year tradition is hard to change.” Krissy breathed out a long sigh.
“Dorado’s residents will get by.” Tora glanced around the all-too-familiar shop that lately had begun to feel like a prison. She rolled her shoulders against the sudden tension. “Are you going to deny me the excitement of a big city? I haven’t decided, either the skyscrapers of Dallas or maybe historic San Antonio.”
