Second-Chance Sweet Shop. Rochelle Alers
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junior, she’d had little or no interaction with him when growing up. By the time she entered the first grade Dwight was already in middle school. Even if they had been the same age, they might not have traveled in the same circles. Wickham Falls, like so many small towns, was defined by social and economic division. His family lived in an enclave of The Falls populated by those who were middle-and upper-middle-class professionals and business owners, while she had always thought of her family as the working poor, because her father always said he was one paycheck away from the poorhouse. Despite Harold’s claim they were poor, Sasha never felt as if they were. Her parents owned their house, there was always food on the table and, as the only girl, she hadn’t had to wear hand-me-downs.
She’d overheard some of the girls that were in her brothers’ classes whisper about how gorgeous Dwight was, but talking about cute boys or fantasizing about teen idols with her girlfriends had not been reality for Sasha. She’d never wanted to host a sleepover, because what happened in the Manning house stayed within the Manning household. Neither she nor her brothers ever publicly spoke about their parents’ toxic union.
What she had never been able to understand was why her parents had married in the first place because they could not agree on anything; and yet they’d celebrated their thirtieth wedding anniversary. Two days later her father passed away from a massive coronary. He was only forty-nine. That was seven years ago, and the first time Sasha had returned to The Falls since leaving at eighteen.
“Congratulations, Sasha. You managed to add some class to The Falls,” Dwight said as he glanced around the bakeshop.
She forced a smile she did not quite feel. She had spent more than a year planning to open a bakeshop, several months awaiting the town council’s approval, and then even more time until the contractor finished renovating the space to make it functional for her to furnish it with prep tables, sinks, industrial ovens, mixers, blenders, deep fryers, food processors, bakeware and utensils.
“You don’t think it’s too fancy?”
Dwight turned and met her eyes. “Of course not. It’s charming and very inviting.” He smiled. “And I like the alliteration of Sasha’s Sweet Shoppe.”
She nodded. “It took me a while to come up with a catchy name. My first choice was Sasha’s Patisserie, but changed my mind because I didn’t want to have to explain to folks what a patisserie is.”
Dwight walked over to the showcase and peered at the colorfully decorated and labeled pastries. “All they have to say is ‘I want one of these and two of those.’ By the way, how was your grand opening?”
Sasha moved over to stand next to him. “It went well enough. I gave out a lot of samples, and hopefully it will be enough to induce folks to come back again.”
Dwight gave Sasha a sidelong glance. He had been more familiar with her brothers than their little sister. It wasn’t until she had become a contestant in a televised baking competition that he, like most living in The Falls, tuned in to watch and remotely cheer her on. The camera appeared to make love to the tall, slender pastry chef with a wealth of red-gold curls, sparkling green eyes and an infectious laugh. Although she did not win the competition, her appearance was enough to make her a viewer favorite. Her star continued to rise when she became the personal baker to several celebrities and married a popular country singer, and then without warning walked away from the bright lights to come back to her place of birth.
It only took a quick glance for Dwight to notice lines of tension around Sasha’s mouth. As someone responsible for managing his own practice, he suspected she was apprehensive about making her new business a success.
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I ate a piece of your chocolate-and-pecan cheesecake and wanted more.”
Sasha flashed a relaxed smile for the first time. The gesture softened her mouth as her eyes sparkled like polished emeralds. “I’ll definitely put that on my cheesecake list.”
Dwight reached into the pocket of his jacket and took out an envelope. “I brought you a copy of Kiera’s immunizations and her Social Security number.”
Sasha took the envelope. “Come with me. I’m going to scan both and then give them back to you. The less paper I have to file, the better.”
He followed her to the rear of the shop, where a spacious immaculate commercial kitchen was outfitted with industrial appliances. His gaze was drawn to a built-in refrigerator/freezer, and then to dozens of cans and labeled jars of spices stacked on metal shelves that spanned an entire wall. Sasha had set up a desk with a computer, printer and file cabinet next to the exit door leading out to the rear parking lot. Bills and invoices were tacked to the corkboard with colorful pushpins affixed to the wall above the desk.
“So, this is where the magic happens.”
Sasha nodded, smiling. “Disney may take offense, but this is my magic kingdom.” She sat on the office chair in front of the computer and patted the straight-back chair next to the workstation. “Please sit down.”
“When did you know you wanted to be a baker?” Dwight asked, as he sat where Sasha had indicated.
She swiveled on her chair to face him. “I never wanted to be a baker.”
His eyebrows rose slightly. “But don’t you bake?”
“Bakers make pies, while pastry chefs make desserts.”
Dwight inclined his head. “I apologize and stand corrected.” Sasha’s low, sensual laugh caressed his ear.
“There’s no need to apologize, Dr. Adams.”
He gave her a pointed look. “It’s Dwight. I’m only Dr. Adams at my office.”
Sasha paused and then nodded. A beat passed. “Okay, Dwight. I suppose you’re wondering what else I wanted to talk to you about?”
Dwight, sitting with his hands sandwiched between his knees, watched as Sasha inserted a thumb drive into a port. “I must admit I am curious.” The seconds ticked as she saved what she’d scanned and handed the papers back to him.
“How difficult was it for you to set up your practice here in The Falls? And how long did it take before you knew it would be viable?”
Her query caught Dwight slightly unawares. He thought Sasha would’ve established a detailed business plan before deciding to open the shop. After all, she was selling goods that relied on supply and demand, while he offered a specific service.
“Well, it was somehow different for me because there was no dental office in The Falls. I remember my mother complaining about having to drive to Mineral Springs and sit for hours to be seen because the office was always overcrowded and overbooked. And once they added an orthodontist it became bedlam in the waiting room with kids falling over one another. Once I decided I wanted to be a dentist I knew beforehand that I would set up a practice here.”
“How long have you had your practice?” Sasha asked.
“This coming October will be eight years.”
“Did you know the first year that you would have enough patients to sustain your practice?”
“I knew that only when my patients returned for their sixth-month checkup. My mother was semiretired, so she filled in as my receptionist until I was able to find a permanent one, and after I hired a hygienist, I didn’t have to micromanage, and everything fell into place. A couple of months ago I added a dental assistant to our staff who performs some of the duties the hygienist had assumed. Initially, most of my patients were kids who needed to have their teeth checked for school, a few for sleepaway camp, and then after a while I was able to sign up their parents.”
“What about your hours?”
“At one time they varied because I was in the reserves and had to serve one weekend a month and two weeks during the summer. I resigned