Open for Business

Savor this day, he told himself. Savor this day. The sun had started rising and light threatened to creep in. He took a long, deep and purposeful breath in through his nostrils. There was the sweetness of the yeast, the earthy spice of the cinnamon and the slight hint of nuttiness from the flour. Layered on top of the pride for his work – a sense of professionalism he carried with him wherever he went – there was an extra tingle of excitement. He tested the ring of the doorbell and took the sign gently in his fingertips, turning it slowly to declare the place open. Today was reopening day.

The pandemic had hit the whole town hard and his bakery was no exception. There was months of income either lowered or absent completely, but expenses kept up. Rent for the store, ingredients to be ready for reopening, wages for his staff members, mortgage for his house, the college fund for his kids. It had nearly overwhelmed him. All he had left to go on was his pride, his genuine love for the work and his prayers. Last week, his prayers had been answered and a blessing arrived in the form of a check from the local church. $20,000. It was enough to cover the bakery’s rent for the time he had been out of action and his labor costs. No more, no less. This was the part he was most thankful for – he didn’t want charity, he wanted no handouts. By being precisely the amount for his rent, he was able to both gratefully receive the funds but also imagine an alternative reality where he wouldn’t have needed the money in the first place. In this way, the check was merely providence for a situation that was never of his making anyway. His honor, both personal and professional, could remain intact.

He turned on the lights, illuminating the family photos and the prominent American flag that dominated the back wall of the shop. He took a final glance over the sections of his cases: bread, cakes, donuts, pies. Pinks, yellows, golden browns, dark chocolate cupcakes with bright red raspberries on top. There is a distinct and unique beauty to baking, which makes it quite a thrill once you have mastered a specific technique and can produce such beauty yourself.

“Good morning,” a voice said, interrupting his process.

“Good morning,” said the owner, slowly turning around.

“I see you’re open for business again,” smiled the customer. “How wonderful!”

“Not for you, we’re not.” Replied the owner.

“Do you honestly mean to turn away your first customer of the day, when you’ve been closed for so long?”

“That’s why you got here so early, huh? You’re doing this to spite me. There’s nothing for you here, I’d like you to leave.”

“I can see plenty of things here for me, should you wish to reconsider. There’s so many delicious items here, I would take several pastry boxes home, if you would permit me.”

“I have the right to refuse service to whoever I like,” the owner paused. “And I’d like you to get out.”

“You know, I had hoped,” the customer said, also pausing. “I had hoped that this time off we’ve all had, this great lull in activity, would be a time of reflection for us all. Those of us who remain with our health have much to be thankful for, I myself have been giving a great deal of thought towards how I can accentuate all that is positive in my life. I had such high hopes that you too would have deeply contemplated this mortal journey of ours and reconsidered your policy.”

“What’s between you and me is something that can never be altered. Frankly, your attempts here make me angry. You’re wasting your breath and my time and if you don’t leave right now, I’m gonna call the police.”

“I understand,” the customer said in a quiet voice. “Well then, good day sir. I wish you all the best.”

The customer left with a polite nod.

The owner busied himself with polishing glass and turning on the espresso machine. Customers slowly started to enter and build up a steady stream, so much so that he was overworked by the time his till operators arrived to sign in and relieve him. By this time, he was grateful to have a chance to sit down and watch life return to the shop, the resurrection of his business. He sat in a chair in the corner table, sipping his coffee and saying hello to each customer as they arrived. He paused only for a sandwich in the back room before returning to while away the afternoon. When the shop started to slow up, he dismissed the girls on the till and waved away their protests about the hours, letting them know that they would be paid for them regardless. He would close up himself. Today was a happy day, after all.

Just before closing, as the sun had started to set, in walked an old and familiar face.

“Reverend! How are you today? Welcome back!” The owner greeted.

“I am well, thank you. It’s a fine thing to see you back on your feet. Could you please give me a cruller when you get a moment, there?” The Reverend replied.

“Of course. This is on the house, it’s the least I can do.”

“And why is that?”

“Why, because of the money you sent. I owe you so much, in fact, let me get you a coffee with that too.”

“Just milk is fine. However, and listen to me now, where do you think that money came from?”

“It came from the church. I mean, it said so right there on the check.”

“Yes, but where does the church get its money from? It’s not like we have paying customers on a Sunday, now, is it?”

“I don’t know,” the owner replied. “Collection plates, old ladies in their will, charitable donations and such? I don’t know.”

“There’s something I think you should see,” the Reverend said, pulling out a small black notebook from the inside pocket of his jacket. “Now, this here is the account book for the church. Go ahead and look for yourself.”

The Reverend handed the black book over and the owner, no stranger to doing his own accounts, didn’t take long to find the revelation. Just prior to the outgoing check for $20,000 on the right-hand side, there was an incoming check for $20,000 on the left-hand side.

“No!” The owner screamed. “How can that be?”

“Friend, he knew you wouldn’t take the money any other way.”

“How could you let him do this?”

“It’s his money, he gave it willingly. And this seemed as good a cause as any, there’s a lot of love for your place in the community. It seemed mighty Christian of him, truth be told. He specifically said he wanted to support local businesses.”

“How does he have that kind of money to spare? And how – tell me how did he know the exact amount I needed?”

“Well, that I can’t say for certain, but I believe he works in real estate and has done very well for himself.”

“I feel sick,” the owner said. “This makes me sick to my stomach. Oh God! Reverend, if you don’t mind, I could use some time alone here.”

“I’ll be on my way,” the Reverend said, collecting his accounts book back off the counter. “But son, think of all the good in this. We’re all God’s children, after all. And this is a fine case of loving thy neighbor in anyone’s book, surely.”

The owner didn’t speak.

“Well, I’ll say goodnight then,” said the reverend. “Thank you for the donut.”

The reverend took a sip of milk, wiped his mouth and left. The owner locked the door behind him, turning the sign to declare the bakery closed. He turned the lights off and sat for a while in the dark, holding his head in his hands. When he finally got up, he noticed some paper that had been dropped in the mailbox. He unfolded it to see a photo of a man identified as Ralph Waldo Emerson with a quote below in large letters:

Every sweet has its sour; every evil its good