Tori Lynn has one dream - to grow her sweets shop into a New York dessert landmark. She expects there to be competition, mischief, and hard work when opening up a store front. What Tori doesn't expect is to join the ranks of the nation's top bakers...
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The sheer curtains gave the sun's rays a glittering filter as they brightened the room and warmed Tori's face. She had been awake for some time, her body cemented to the memory foam mattress.
A look over her shoulder proved that Chantal was still sleeping - as if her wheezing wasn't enough - and an inspection of the alarm clock on the nightstand showed 7:12 A.M.
Tori willed her body to move, to slide out of this peaceful embrace and shower, but she remained immobile. Her body felt heavier than a sack of flour as she laid staring at the wall.
Well, at least I tried.
She reveled in the pillow top comforter and nuzzled her head deeper into a soft pillow.
Could the network actually fire her for being a little late? Tori didn't know the answer, but she knew that Victoria wouldn't be happy. Somehow, Tori was more afraid of the network's assistant than she was of the big-wig network executives.
Sure, the executives controlled her contract and pay, but Victoria's drill Sargent-like attitude made Tori feel as if she was a child again; fearful of someone bigger and meaner.
Tori thought back to the morning Victoria yelled over Carson's shoulder for not brushing his teeth fast enough, her Colombian accent mixing with a harsh tone. He didn't take offense to Victoria's strict motivation. Instead, he laughed it off and woke early the next morning.
That day seemed like forever ago. She found it difficult to remember Carson's sandy hair and toothy smile. His features were beginning to blur in her memory. She didn't know if it was Westley or Carson that had a freckle on their nose. Was it Carson or Wesley that liked eggs for breakfast? She couldn't remember.
As time passed, she would forget every one of her competitors one-by-one.
She tried to count the days, listing off every challenge with a count of her fingers.
With four fingers up, she realized that she had no idea how long it had been. It didn't help that she was so reliant on her cell phone. Without it, Tori didn't know the actual date of each day.
Is it Tuesday? Or maybe it's Wednesday.
Sure, she could turn on the downstairs television and watch a few minutes of the news channel. The date would be on screen like always, but Tori would rather douse herself in flour than spend any time watching the news. There was something eerie about watching its anchors smile through another heartbreaking story or local tragedy. Whether it was a cat getting stuck in a tree or a violent crime, Tori thought it was all too negative and a horrible way to start the day.
