Finding Emma

five

The next couple of days fly by with relative ease, considering all the drama. Bradley's suspicions dissipated by Friday afternoon, and I only ran into James once in the span of two days. Saturday morning, I wake up feeling refreshed. I have a long morning shift at the bakery that I can't help but be excited for, and then I have the rest of the day to myself. Getting out of bed with a little pep isn't difficult.

After taking a quick shower and tying my hair back into a French braid, I throw on my most comfortable pair of skinny jeans and a slim-fitting black v-neck. Scout's sleeping in his little bed, so I decide not to disturb him and drop some kibble in his dish. My sister's door is closed - she always sleeps in late on Saturdays. I quietly exit the apartment and meet Mom downstairs, where she's prepping the pastry case up front for opening.

"Morning, Ems," she greets me cheerily as she lines up delicate fruit tarts on a display, their bold colors brightening up the pastry case and making my mouth water.

"Good morning!" I steal a tart from her tray and run into the back to grab a quick cup of coffee, but not without a slap on the wrist for taking one of her precious pastries. I down the tart in two bites and am out front with a fresh cup of coffee, straightening the tables and chairs in the cafe. I'm a bit of a perfectionist, so I like everything to be in its proper place. My mom's the same way.

"It's 6:30," Mom says, looking at her new Apple Watch my dad bought her as a gift, "can you unlock the door for me and turn the lights on outside?"

"Sure!" I unlock the door and flip the "open" sign, then step outside to turn the string lights that hang above our outdoor seating on. The morning is just beginning, with signs of life starting to appear on the street as the dawn begins to peek through the darkened sky. A few people are out walking their dogs, and fellow shop-owners are opening their stores. Others are sitting on their apartment balconies above, sipping from mugs and watching the sunrise. I love our cafe's location; I always find it so peaceful.

I take the cushioned stool at the register, getting comfortable, my coffee hidden behind the computer. It might be early, but our loyal customers come in like clockwork. My mother runs into the back to start brewing coffee and ensure the oven is on for the breakfast sandwiches we serve. As the first few stragglers make their way inside, some smiling a little too much for the early morning and a few looking irritated from caffeine withdrawals, Brianna enters in a hurry.

"Sorry I'm late," she whispers to me and throws her apron on before washing her hands.

I shrug, not really bothered. Brianna is almost never late. "Life happens, no biggie."

She shoots me a grateful smile, then looks at the order I've just taken: a dozen donuts. "People really like their sugar in the morning," Bri remarks, grabbing a box to pack the donuts up in.

"Who doesn't, though?" I joke, and we both laugh.

The early Saturday morning goes smoothly, with some people coming in first thing for coffee and a pastry, and the big rush occurring at around 10:00, with families and couples and other late-risers looking for breakfast. By noon it slows down enough for me to take a break, which I am grateful for. I haven't stopped since we opened, and I can feel the work seeping into my joints, making me tired. I grab some water and head up to the apartment to make sandwiches for my mom, Bri and I.

Eva is sitting in the oversized chair in our living room by the window, reading a prenatal care book my mom bought her yesterday as a sort of peace offering. Scout is curled up next to her, sleeping. She looks up at me as I enter and smiles, but her eyes look tired. "Hey. How's it going in the bakery?"

"Good. I'm making sandwiches for lunch, then going back down. Do you want one?"

"No thanks. I ate already."