Free Always the Baker, Never the Bride by Sandra D. Bricker

D.C. just after her high school graduation.
    The telephone rang right on schedule: 8:30 a.m. every Sunday morning like clockwork.
    “Hi, Daddy.”
    “Morning, Princess. Oatmeal or eggs?”
    “Oatmeal.”
    “Raisins or walnuts?”
    “Both,” she replied, digging a mouthful out of the bowl with her spoon. “And a splash of milk.”
    “Good girl. Blood sugar?”
    “94.”
    “Atta girl.”
    “And you? Are you having coffee or coffee?”
    “I decided on coffee this morning.”
    “Black?”
    “What else?”
    As volatile as his relationship with her mother had always been, there was steel security for Emma in theirs.
    “How’s work, Daddy?”
    “I’ve sold my last business,” he announced. “Travis Development is no more.”
    Emma plopped the bowl of oatmeal to the table next to her and shook her head. “What?! I thought that was the one you were keeping.”
    “I’ve spent too many years in real estate and construction, Emma Rae. It’s time for a change.”
    “A change? To what?”
    “A few good steaks, a cigar every now and then. Maybe some travel. I’ve decided to take it easy and see how that feels.”
    “Red meat and cigars!” she exclaimed. “Remember your blood pressure.”
    “My blood is pressing on just fine now that I’ve decided to retire.”
    “Well,” she said on a chuckle, “no one deserves it like you, Daddy. But I sure can’t envision this new lifestyle on you.”
    “Stay tuned, Princess,” he declared. “Now tell me about your new venture. What’s this corporate tycoon-turned-hotel-renovator like?”
    “He’s … confusing,” she admitted. “He doesn’t seem to know a thing about the hotel business, yet he jumped in with both feet just the same.”
    “A visionary.”
    “Or an idiot,” she giggled.
    “Mmm,” he considered. “Or that. Is he treating you right?”
    “He is. I have the most amazing kitchen. Top of the line. And he let me bring Fee over with me.”
    “Ah, Fee. How is she? Still dressed in black, I’m guessing.”
    Emma laughed. “She’s still Fee.”
    “It works for her.”
    “Yes, it does.”
    “I’m happy to see you making a clean break from that other one.”
    “Harry.”
    “Yes, Harry.”
    “Well, I made a break, but I’m not sure how clean. It turns out he’s suing my new boss for something like alienation of employment.”
    Gavin spouted a low-pitched, one-syllable guffaw. “He’s nothing without you. I guess he’s finally realizing it. Too little, too stinkin’ late.”
    “I just feel bad for Jackson.”
    “Jackson, is it?”
    “That’s his name, Dad. He told me to call him Jackson.”
    “I bet he did.”
    A click interrupted the conversation, and Emma didn’t need to even look. It would be Fee calling, as she did every Sunday morning, to invite Emma to join her at church.
    “You have a call,” her father stated.
    “It’s okay. I don’t need to pick it up.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “Yes. Tell me about you, Daddy. What led you to this monumental decision to sell Travis Development?”
    A second click broke through, then Emma leaned back into the chair and closed her eyes, ignoring it as she listened to her father’s dramatic tale of industrial espionage, corporate competition, and general incompetence, none of which had a thing to do with why he’d decided to retire.
    After they hung up twenty minutes later, she took a shower and threw on some jeans and her Falcons jersey, tidied up the kitchen, made her bed, and took two laps around the apartment. After her weekly call from her father was through, Sunday was Emma’s least favorite day of the week. She never quite knew what to do with herself. Fee had surmised that it was her work/life imbalance at the root of the trouble, and Emma didn’t entirely disagree. But she put the thought out of her mind as she grabbed her purse and keys and took off for The Tanglewood at eleven o’clock that morning.
    Christening her new key to the back door of the hotel kitchen, Emma