Déjà Date Read Online Free Page A

likely, at the rate I was going. Sigh.
    I pulled into the driveway of the two-story brick colonial revival-style home I’d grown up in, and parked beside the sweeping green lawn. Then my gaze fell to the basket of baked goods sitting on my front passenger seat that Bernie had so lovingly put together for my mom.
    Bernie’s bakery hadn’t just been a job for him. He’d loved spending his time there every day, and his choice of business had made him happy. Unlike me, who was searching for another customer service job I didn’t really enjoy. I found myself wishing I’d chosen a career that I loved as much Bernie had loved his.
    Wait a minute. . . .
    A nervous burst of laughter escaped as an idea started percolating in my brain. My mind flew back to all of the good times I’d had when I’d worked at Bernie’s Bakery during college. I remembered the peace that would come over me, while baking during the early morning hours before the rest of the world was awake. I’d loved greeting and chatting with the regular customers, who had inevitably felt like an extended part of my family. I still ran into some of them from time to time.
    Working at the bakery had been so much fun.
    What if I bought the bakery?
    Suddenly, the solution made perfect sense. I knew what I had to do. Gripping the handle of Bernie’s basket of goodies with my hand, I jumped out of the car and hurried up the walkway toward my mom’s front door. I didn’t need to just dip into the inheritance funds my dad had left me so I could get through the next month. I needed to accept the whole shebang so I could buy Bernie’s Bakery!
    Adrenaline blasted through me, and I knew with every ounce of my being that this was the correct decision. I’d never felt right accepting money that had resulted from my dad’s death, but now I realized what an incredible gift he’d left for me. This generous gift would completely change the direction of my life. I’d finally be spending my days doing something meaningful that I loved—just like Bernie had done.
    And even though it was such a large sum, I knew my mom wouldn’t have a problem handing over all of the funds to me. She’d offered it up many times over the years, practically trying to force me to take it. Wearing an excited smile that I hadn’t felt in weeks, months, or maybe even years, I pressed the doorbell.
    I couldn’t wait to tell my mom about my plan to buy Bernie’s Bakery. She’d be happy, I figured, since Bernie’s had featured predominantly in her life, too. During my childhood, my mom had always been impeccably dressed, attending elegant social functions every weekend. Whenever she was in charge of an event, she always had it catered with Bernie’s delicious delicacies. She’d enjoyed hosting parties herself as well, and ordered all of the food from the bakery because his delectable goodies were the best around.
    Not like she’d had anything catered by Bernie lately, though. Once my dad had passed away in that ridiculously tragic hot air balloon accident, my mom had stopped leaving the house and instead spent her days painting ceramic hot air balloons as if she were trying to bring him back to life or something.
    In addition to abandoning her social life, her designer put-together look had slowly declined to the point that, seven weeks ago, I’d arrived to find her wearing a wrinkled sweat suit covered with splotches of paint. She’d had long, gray roots too as if she had been skipping her monthly beauty salon treatments, even though she used to be religious about those appointments.
    That was why I’d suggested she go see a therapist. She’d blown me off with an annoyed look, so I hadn’t brought it up again in all of our conversations. I knew it was her life to live how she wanted, but deep down I didn’t feel like she was happy anymore.
    Hearing footsteps approaching the door, I bounced on my heels, anxious to tell her about my plan to buy Bernie’s Bakery. Maybe that would help