How to Bake a Perfect Life Read Online Free Page B

bathroom.”
    “Oh, of course! I’m sorry. C’mon.”
    The bakery occupies the entire lower level of the Victorian, but I live on the upper two floors, big spacious rooms with long, double-hung windows that let in buckets of light. Some of the rooms are a bit shabby these days, since all the money is going into the bakery, but the floors are hardwood covered with mygrandmother’s rugs, and there is the grace of knee-high baseboards, intricately carved. The kitchen, which I updated at the same time as I did the bakery, faces east and the side yard. The living room is in front, facing south and the street, which is lined with elm trees that break and bring down the power lines whenever there is a heavy snow.
    My bedroom is on this floor, too, along with the gigantic bathroom with its claw-footed tub. Both rooms look to the mountains, burly and blue and very close by.
    “You’re up here.” I lead Katie to the third level, under the eaves. It can be hot in the summertime, but Katie’s bedroom has windows all along the north wall and a small screened-in balcony that overlooks the backyard. It will be a good place for the dog to sleep, I think now.
    “This is my room?” Katie says.
    “There’s no television because there’s no cable up here, but if there’s something else you can think of, say so. The bathroom is tiny, but it has a nice view and a good shower. If you want a bath, you can use the one downstairs—it has a great tub. Sofia and I really like it.”
    Katie looks winded.
    “Sorry, I’m talking you to death. Why don’t you take a few minutes, get settled, and come down whenever you want?”
    Her expression is one of loss. Patting her shoulder, I say, “Take your time, sweetie.”

Katie
      K atie sinks down on the bed, and it’s so super-super-soft that it almost calls her name. She falls backward onto it. The covers poof up around her arms like clouds, and through the window comes a breeze that tickles over the top of her head. The wallpaper is old, with tiny orange flowers on it, making her think of a book she found at the library where a girl traveled back in time through a closet. On a stand in the corner is a huge blue vase with purple flowers. Katie can smell them from the bed.
    After a second, she gets up and looks out the window, where she can see the tops of trees and a tiny bird sitting on a branch, whistling, and, way far away on the ground, a stream. Purple flowers are on bushes all over the place.
    Not what she was expecting. None of it.
    Out of her backpack she takes a notebook. There are two girls on the front of it, with bandannas in their hair and high heels on their feet. Madison gave it to her at the airport. “Write to me every day,” she said. “And when you can get to a computer, email me. When we go to the library on Fridays, I’ll email you back.” Madison’s computer broke a while ago, and they hadn’t gotten a new one yet. Maybe when her dad was deployed again, her mom had said. Her mom was the one who’d told them they couldwrite letters, too. Like in the mail, with an envelope. Mrs. Petrosky had given Katie envelopes and stamps, with their address written right on the box of envelopes.
    Katie tried not to cry, and so did Madison, but they were best friends. They’d been through a lot together—they both had parents who were soldiers and they had lived in three of the same places at the same time, and they’d known each other since they were six.
    Now, in her new bedroom, Katie opens the notebook and writes:
    May 20, 20—
Hey, Madison ,
This is the first letter. I’m here. It’s pretty. Sofia’s mom is nice, but we knew she probably would be, right, because Sofia is so nice. Merlin is still stuck at the airport, but it seems like these people are going to get him home. Right now I’m SUPER hungry, and I’m going to get some lunch. But I feel better writing to you even if you can’t read it yet. It’s like when you went to camp last summer, right?
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