Dial Tones | h.s.

[30]

I was out of my seat before she could stop me.

-

Teatime Bakery was tucked between a dry cleaners and an art studio. The first time I had ever come across it was a rainy April afternoon two years prior. I was fresh out of culinary school and had dreams of running the bakery of some high end restaurant or hotel, like all graduates did. I quickly learned that dreams did not always come true, as that day I managed to blow three interviews and break a heel. So I dejectedly hobbled home, umbrella clutched between trembling fingers, begging the universe to give me a break. Then, as if I was in a movie, my umbrella flew out of my hand and across the street.

I cursed and chased it through traffic, desperately grabbing at it, until it smacked against a storefront window. I snatched it up from the ground with a vengeance, and whispered threats at it as I pushed it into my coat pocket. I decided to go into the store, not looking at the name or what it sold, as I just wanted to get out of the cold. A bell twinkled to alert the owner of a new customer, and I sighed at the sound, pushing the wet hair that clung to my cheeks out of my face.

"You look like you could use a cupcake," a warm voice said. I looked up to see a women, only a few years older than myself, gesture to a glass case in front of her.

I smiled and politely shook my head, "I can't afford that right now."

She didn't answer right away, instead taking a vanilla bean cupcake from a display and crossing the counter. "You coming?" She asked, gesturing to a table over by the window.

Wordlessly, I followed and sat across from her. She didn't ask why I couldn't afford the cupcake, and I didn't ask why she gave it to me free of charge. Instead, we talked about college and our families and how to make the perfect creme brûlée. I had told her about the pre-med student that walked me to my classes, and how I thought he was going to ask me out soon. She had told me her name was Sarah and that she had a fiancé named Jeremy, and a little boy who was just learning how to walk. Eventually, we fell into a silence and she had asked what I knew was on her mind since I walked in.

"So you need a job, huh?"

I averted my gaze, as hearing it out loud sounded just as horrible as when I said it in my head, "I've been looking for one, yes."

"Where have you looked so far?" She questioned, tilting her head.

I listed the various places, going into detail of how some of the interviews went. Something in me wanted the woman's approval, I wanted her to know that I was actually trying. As I went on, her eyebrows began to crinkle in confusion, causing me to trail off.

"What?" I asked, confused myself.

"It's just that..." she paused to gather the right phrasing, "it's just that those places are all big trendy restaurants with Michelin stars and snooty waiters and it just doesn't seem like.. your thing."

The way she said it told me that it wasn't meant as an insult, but I still couldn't help but take offense. She had talked to me for less than an hour and could already gauge what 'my thing' was? It didn't seem fair for her to tell me what I could and couldn't do, as she didn't know how hard I worked in school or how dedicated I was to becoming a big time baker.

"So what do you think 'my thing' is?" I quizzed, not excited to hear the answer.

She smiled knowingly, "A place that doesn't feel like a kitchen, but like a home."

She offered me a job after that. It was good pay and a great starting position for someone who had just finished school. I was apprehensive at first because I didn't just want the job because she felt sorry for me, but she promised to interview me like she would any other potential employee. I normally was skeptical of fate, but how could anyone ignore a sign as obvious as an umbrella smashing against the window of the exact kind of job you were looking for?