Chapter One
The ironic thing about whenever Violet Abrams entered Uncertainty, Alabama, was how uncertain she felt about being there. It hardly helped matters that back home, in what used to be her favorite chapel, a grand ceremony was taking place without her.
Yep, the irony was strong today.
Maybe she was using ironic the wrong way—words had never been her strong point. She captured images that could say a thousand words without uttering a single one.
Or she used to, anyway.
Before a jerkface who’d promised always and forever had made a mockery of her best-laid plans. Obviously he hadn’t meant it in the classic every single occasion, without exception, without ending definitions.
Which brought her to the annoying word never. As in how she’d sworn that she’d never, ever live in Uncertainty, Alabama, again. Not unless someone dragged her kicking and screaming.
And yet, there was the sign that welcomed her to town.
Memories from the last time she’d been in Alabama drifted to the surface, prompting her to eye the rearview mirror.
Violet jerked her chin level and gripped the steering wheel that much harder. She was trying to let the past go. Finding silver linings and redirecting her negative notions and emotions. “While my closest girlfriends are in Spanx, binding dresses, and pinchy high heels, I’m rocking the hell out of these comfy yoga pants.”
The clerk at the 7-Eleven she’d stopped at earlier to refuel and re-caffeinate had definitely noticed. He’d checked her out quite thoroughly, and considering she had on yesterday’s smudged makeup, she was slightly flattered.
Even if he had focused a bit too much on her butt.
Funny enough, the woman in the chip aisle had also examined Violet’s backside. And she’d wondered if she was accidentally putting out the wrong vibe, thanks to recently swearing off men.
It wasn’t until Violet had removed the nozzle from the gas tank and caught her reflection in her car’s side mirror that everything clicked into place. Turned out her lilac yoga pants were light enough to display the bright pink hearts and scribbled ciao for now on her panties.
Suffice it to say, Victoria’s Secret was out.
While it’d been super embarrassing, at least she’d worn her pretty underwear and not the granny kind.
Look at me, being all optimistic.
The brakes squealed as she pulled her car to a stop in front of Maisy’s Bakery, and the binder Violet despised but couldn’t quite bring herself to toss slid out from underneath the passenger seat.
So much work. So many beautiful images that’d once brought her joy. All contained in a bulging, glittery purple binder that made her want to cry. “I’m working on positive thinking right now, thank you very much. And you’re not helping, Mr. Binder, so just go to your…room.”
Violet stretched over the console and shoved the cursed object back under the seat, along with the discarded soda bottle and empty candy wrappers from her four-hour road trip from Pensacola, Florida.
Ooh, what if I call this a sabbatical?
No, a journey of self-discovery. Like Eat, Pray, Love.
Or Wild, but with less walking and outdoor shit.
The last page of her inspiring memoir formed shape in her mind: And in the end, I discovered eating pastries in the middle of an air-conditioned room and boinking burly mountain men who showered on a regular basis was the true way to happiness.
Ah, I feel enlightened already. Since she was an all-or-nothing girl, Violet brought her hands up in prayer position and added a “Namaste.”
It worked like a charm, too. Her uncertainty, along with the other crap twisting at her insides, eased as she took in the gilded letters that spelled out Maisy’s Bakery across the window.
Excitement fired through her, and she pulled on the sides of her messy bun until the elastic band hit the crown of her head. To ensure her butt got less attention this go-round, Violet snatched her hoodie off the box in the front seat.
Multicolored frames stuck up from the box, providing a striped peek of the pictures inside. Just enough to determine which wedding they’d been taken at. The jeweled magenta headband meant Leah, the first from their crew to tie the knot. The other picture was upside down, the mauve dresses Amanda had chosen for her bridesmaids on display, along with the strappy silver heels that’d cut off circulation to their toes.
Seven used to be Violet’s lucky number. But Maisy’s wedding marked her seventh time acting as a bridesmaid, and after how disastrously that turned out, Violet had given up all things wedding-related.
Problem was, it was hard not to think of weddings when a) your biggest jobs involved them and b) your favorite pictures were from your closest friends’ weddings.
Think about Maisy and cupcakes and baby cheeks. She wouldn’t even have to work on stifling her warring emotions once she got ahold of those three things.
Violet climbed out of her car and hit the auto lock button, even though Uncertainty was one of those idyllic places where the only crime was not waving.
All her belongings were inside, though, including the expensive Canon 5D Mark IV camera that’d once felt like another limb.
I’ll get there again. Maisy and I have a plan, and everything will be better if I can just make it through the last few hours of the day.
The door to the bakery chimed as she stepped inside, and Maisy was waving to a customer as she said, “Bye. Have a sweet day!”
“Violet!” Maisy shouted, loud enough that the customer jumped. Her half sister rounded the counter at a sprint, and Violet took a few large strides herself.
A moment before they met in the middle, she hesitated, a pinch dubious about going all in, since they’d never done the squealing/huge-hug combo before.
But Maisy closed the last foot of space and gave her a hug worthy of a python, squeezing Violet’s breath out over her shoulder, and it’d never felt so reassuring to be breathless.
Due to their complicated family dynamics, they hadn’t been close growing up, and the embraces they’d previously shared were quick and robotic. Their conversations had been about the same up until the past few months.
“I’m so happy you’re here,” Maisy said. “Obviously the bakery is in severe need of a sprucing—not that you have to get started right away. I’ve just been waiting all day, and you’re actually here, and in case you can’t tell, I’m super excited.”
“I think the term is ‘high on sugar.’”
Maisy laughed and leaned in, as if she were about to divulge trade secrets. “I also invested in an espresso machine. After too many nights with too little sleep, it went from a want to a need.”
The chime over the door sounded, and Maisy glanced at the family of five walking in.