Chapter 17 - THE FIFTH BAKERY
The fifth bakery opened three years after the cellar.
It occupied the first floor of a restored courthouse building.
The irony pleased my classmates.
By then, I was halfway through law school.
I attended lectures at night.
Reviewed contracts after midnight.
Woke before dawn to test recipes.
People asked how I managed both.
The honest answer was that I had experience carrying impossible schedules.
The difference was that this schedule belonged to me.
The new bakery contained a community room.
Every month, attorneys and accountants offered free workshops for small-business owners.
Contracts.
Payroll.
Business credit.
Marital property.
Digital signatures.
Financial abuse.
The first session filled every chair.
A woman approached afterward.
Her husband managed all company accounts.
He told her she was too emotional to understand financial documents.
The sentence felt familiar.
I introduced her to Rebecca.
“You do not need proof of a crime before asking someone independent to review a contract.”
The woman began crying.
I thought about the wineglasses.
The disabled camera.
The pink lipstick.
How long I might have remained silent if I believed suspicion itself was disloyal.
The community program became the Vance Legal Kitchen.
I considered changing the surname.
Then I kept it.
Marcus did not own every version of the name.
May you like
I had built four bakeries under it.
I would decide what it represented next.
