Angry Baker's Arc

Chapter 3 of 13

Allan parked outside the tax office on Friday morning. He had the quarterly payment envelope in his jacket pocket. The line moved slowly. He stood behind three other people, all waiting their turn at the counter. A fountain stood outside the entrance, water trickling down its tiers while birds hopped along the edges. People lingered there before heading inside, talking in clusters. Allan had walked past them without listening. Now, inside, two men stood near the bulletin board by the door. One pointed at a framed business license hanging on the wall, the kind every shop owner had to display. The other shook his head. "Heard they're not licensed right," the first man said. "The new bakery. Health inspector hasn't signed off yet. They opened anyway." Allan's hand went still in his pocket. He stood perfectly frozen, listening. "Could get shut down before the month's out," the second man said. "If someone reports it." Allan reached the counter and paid his taxes. The clerk stamped his receipt. He folded it and put it in his pocket, then walked out past the fountain without looking back. The envelope felt lighter now. The new bakery might close on its own. He didn't have to do anything. He didn't have to lower his prices or change his recipes or fight for customers who'd already left. All he had to do was wait. He drove back to the bakery and unlocked the door. The shop was empty. No customers waiting. He went to the kitchen and pulled out his journal, flipping to February twenty-fourth. The date was still circled. If the new place closed, his customers would come back. Mrs. Smith would buy bread again. He could afford the wedding. He could propose. Allan closed the journal and set it on the counter. For the first time in days, he felt his hands relax. He didn't need to fix anything. He just needed the problem to go away.