BettyJo left for her scheduled readings, I returned to the store front. Not a soul walked by, cars whizzed up and down the street, and nobody came in for bread. Around noon, I went to the kitchen to make a sandwich and heard the bell tinkle when the front door opened.
I’d entered the shop and stopped short when I saw Mrs. Peterson’s estate lawyer’s secretary standing before the counter, an envelope in her hand. Her expression was all business and my heart sank. Usually, the woman was cheerful when she came by, and often bought a loaf of bread before she left. That wasn’t on her agenda today. I could tell by the look on her face.
“Hey there, how are you?” I asked with a smile.
“Fine, thank you. Attorney Abernathy asked that I hand deliver this to you.” She shoved the envelope toward me as though it burned her skin to hold it.
I took it from her and ripped it open as the woman walked toward the door. “Wait a minute, will you?” I asked as I read the single sheet of paper. I held the eviction notice in my hands. My lease ran out at the end of the month and I wouldn’t be offered a chance to renew. I was expected to have removed all my belongings from the property by midnight on December thirty-first.
My heart couldn’t have sunk any lower without coming through the tips of my toes. “What’s this about?” I asked as I brandished the paper toward her.
“Just what it says. I’m sorry, Melina, but your reputation is bad for business. We’ve had several complaints about you and the things that happen concerning you. It was a decision that Mr. Abernathy made, not of my doing. I hope you understand.”
Plainly, the woman wanted to get as far away from me and my shop as she could. Whether she agreed with Abernathy or not, she was uncomfortable. I nodded, watched her rush out the door and disappear up the street, and then I let the tears spill over.
Once I’d locked the front door and turned the sign to closed, I hurried through the swinging doors and cried. Life stinks and when you’re down, somebody comes along and kicks you because they can. I blubbered until there were no tears left. My livelihood was gone. There’d be no more customers, no happy days making bread in my small Hole in the Wall Bakery. I was done, finished. All because I’d crossed the wrong person and he’d taken his aggravation out on me. Hells bells.
I washed my face at the kitchen sink, stamped around griping for a half hour or so, and then made tartlets for Charlie’s get together. In all that time, not one person had knocked at the front door looking for daily bread.
When seven o’clock rolled around, I’d changed into festive clothes, and delivered my baked goods to the homeless shelter. Upon my return, Aidan stood outside the back door, his hand raised to knock.
“Good evening, Aidan,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
He turned in surprise and answered, “I’ve come for an answer, Melina. You’ve had enough time to make up your mind.” He kissed my cheek.
“Come on in.” I beckoned him inside. “I’m about to go over to Charlie Franklin’s for a small party, and I have to get the snack I made for the affair. Why don’t you join us?”
“Surely, I’m not welcome,” Aidan said with a shake of his head.
“Why not? Americans don’t get all bent out of shape when someone extra shows up for a party. It’s only us renters who’ll be there, and there’ll be food. Come on, come with me,” I cajoled.
“Sure, then, yes, I’ll go,” Aidan said and smiled.
He wandered the bakery kitchen while I wrapped the tartlets. When I turned to say I was ready, I noticed the angry look in his eyes and his features were hard.
“Your front window is broken and you’ve been evicted?” He held the letter from the attorney in his hand. “When were you going to tell me?”
“Look, don’t get upset. The police were here last night and helped me cover the window after they took the report. They’re
I’d entered the shop and stopped short when I saw Mrs. Peterson’s estate lawyer’s secretary standing before the counter, an envelope in her hand. Her expression was all business and my heart sank. Usually, the woman was cheerful when she came by, and often bought a loaf of bread before she left. That wasn’t on her agenda today. I could tell by the look on her face.
“Hey there, how are you?” I asked with a smile.
“Fine, thank you. Attorney Abernathy asked that I hand deliver this to you.” She shoved the envelope toward me as though it burned her skin to hold it.
I took it from her and ripped it open as the woman walked toward the door. “Wait a minute, will you?” I asked as I read the single sheet of paper. I held the eviction notice in my hands. My lease ran out at the end of the month and I wouldn’t be offered a chance to renew. I was expected to have removed all my belongings from the property by midnight on December thirty-first.
My heart couldn’t have sunk any lower without coming through the tips of my toes. “What’s this about?” I asked as I brandished the paper toward her.
“Just what it says. I’m sorry, Melina, but your reputation is bad for business. We’ve had several complaints about you and the things that happen concerning you. It was a decision that Mr. Abernathy made, not of my doing. I hope you understand.”
Plainly, the woman wanted to get as far away from me and my shop as she could. Whether she agreed with Abernathy or not, she was uncomfortable. I nodded, watched her rush out the door and disappear up the street, and then I let the tears spill over.
Once I’d locked the front door and turned the sign to closed, I hurried through the swinging doors and cried. Life stinks and when you’re down, somebody comes along and kicks you because they can. I blubbered until there were no tears left. My livelihood was gone. There’d be no more customers, no happy days making bread in my small Hole in the Wall Bakery. I was done, finished. All because I’d crossed the wrong person and he’d taken his aggravation out on me. Hells bells.
I washed my face at the kitchen sink, stamped around griping for a half hour or so, and then made tartlets for Charlie’s get together. In all that time, not one person had knocked at the front door looking for daily bread.
When seven o’clock rolled around, I’d changed into festive clothes, and delivered my baked goods to the homeless shelter. Upon my return, Aidan stood outside the back door, his hand raised to knock.
“Good evening, Aidan,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
He turned in surprise and answered, “I’ve come for an answer, Melina. You’ve had enough time to make up your mind.” He kissed my cheek.
“Come on in.” I beckoned him inside. “I’m about to go over to Charlie Franklin’s for a small party, and I have to get the snack I made for the affair. Why don’t you join us?”
“Surely, I’m not welcome,” Aidan said with a shake of his head.
“Why not? Americans don’t get all bent out of shape when someone extra shows up for a party. It’s only us renters who’ll be there, and there’ll be food. Come on, come with me,” I cajoled.
“Sure, then, yes, I’ll go,” Aidan said and smiled.
He wandered the bakery kitchen while I wrapped the tartlets. When I turned to say I was ready, I noticed the angry look in his eyes and his features were hard.
“Your front window is broken and you’ve been evicted?” He held the letter from the attorney in his hand. “When were you going to tell me?”
“Look, don’t get upset. The police were here last night and helped me cover the window after they took the report. They’re
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