Eight dollars at my checkout seemed like nothing. I had no idea it would send me searching through my mother’s past – and toward a truth someone had gone to extraordinary lengths to hide.
At forty, I had become very good at living a life that required almost nothing from me.
I lived alone in the house where my mother had raised me and worked at the same grocery store where she’d once worked.
Jenna had become my closest friend and the nearest thing to family after Mom died.
She watched me hand a regular his Friday lottery ticket.
“Six years here and you know everyone’s routine.”
A life that required almost nothing from me.
“Pretty much.”
“Doesn’t that drive you crazy?”
“What?”
“Knowing exactly what tomorrow will look like.”
I shrugged. “There are worse things than predictable.”
That wasn’t entirely true.
You know everyone’s routine.
There had been a time when I wanted more.
Once, I told Jenna, “My mother used to own that bakery downtown.”
“The empty one?”
“Yeah. She inherited it from my grandfather.”
“What happened?”
There are worse things than predictable.
“She sold it when money got tight. Bought our house with what was left.”
“That must’ve been hard for her.”
“It was. And the strange thing is, nobody ever bought the bakery after that.”
“Maybe nobody wants it.”
“Everything else on that block has changed hands.”
She sold it when money got tight.
“Then maybe you should buy it.”
“I used to think I’d buy it back.”
“What stopped you?”
I laughed. “My bank account.”
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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