3 The Bread Basket

"Well, there's always a next one," Isabella mumbled as she exited the twelfth mart. Her twelfth rejection in a row, Isabella believed that she would definitely earn a spot in the Guinness Book of Records if this suit continues for a couple of days.

Striking away the twelfth name on her mini notebook, she squinted her eyes at the next one. The Bread Basket, it read. Memorizing the address, Isabella got on her bicycle, using all her remaining strength she pedaled hard all the while wishing herself good luck.

Turning into the alley by the side, Isabella went forward as her eyes took in all the board signs. As her eyes fell on the sign 'The Bread Basket', Isabella pressed on the brakes and parked her bicycle to the side, under the shade of the trees.

Standing to the side she observed the flow of customers - old or young, rich or middle class, there was a smile on each person's face as they came out of the bakery. She felt that the flow of customers is excellent given the tiny bakery.

This must be a nice bakery, she concluded as she strode forward. As she neared the glass door she felt nervousness bubble up in her heart.

Only good bakers can bring out the real smiles from people. Such a place, will it welcome her?

Here comes my thirteenth rejection... Isabella took in a deep breath as if preparing herself for the oncoming battle. Tucking the stray strands of hair behind her ear, she pushed the door open, the chiming of the bell indicating her arrival.

Wooden tables and seats carved from stone spread across the once empty space with a few customers occupying their seats, while the rest were empty. Across her was an old man who was arranging the pastries into the glass display racks, with his head tilted down he naturally did not notice the pair of eyes on him. Maneuvering across the haphazard space between the tables Isabella covered the distance between them, rubbing her sweaty palm against her trousers she rang the steel bell on the counter.

Ring!

The shrill sound of the bell reverberated making the old man look up. Looking at Isabella he spoke in a tone that was neither warm nor cold.

"How may I help you?"

"Sir, I'm here for employment."

Isabella swore that she saw the old man lift his eyebrows at the mention of the vacant job. Before she could let her fantasies run wild, she heard him ask "Can you bake?"

Bake? Isn't the job related to cleaning and dusting? Isabella blanked out for a moment.

"Can you or don't waste my time?" Apparently, the old man had too little of patience or she had taken too long to answer.

"I can bake a decent bread..." Isabella answered truthfully. She was sure that the old man would kick her out, while people were whipping out crapes out of thin air and decorating cakes as if it's a born talent, she can only bake a loaf of bread. She hardly felt that the old man would require her miser self as his help. She braced herself for the rejection but, the words never came. It was Isabella's turn to be surprised.

"Then bake a decent bread." there was amusement hidden in his old voice. But, it lasted only for a moment before a stern look graced over his aged face "If I find your baking satisfactory, then the job is yours. Else, you are to leave."

Pointing to the kitchen, he rebuked the frozen Isabella "What are you waiting for? Get to work!"

"Yes, sir!"

Isabella almost bit off her tongue at her response, she felt like an elementary school kid answering the roll call. She then glanced at the old man to gauge his reaction. He did not seem angry nor did he sport a funny face. Letting out a breath of relief, Isabella took hurried strides towards the kitchen.

The kitchen smelled of sugar and oil, there were stains of flour all around the working area. She then placed her backpack on the stool, after putting on the apron which was hanging on the hook, she proceeded to take out the ingredients.

Wheat flour, Canola oil, Water, Yeast, Salt, Sugar. Rolling up the sleeves of her sweater, Isabella started to prepare the bread.

...

Adam scrutinized the brown loaf of bread before him. Hollow when poked, crisply burnt and soft.

Better, he thought. Better than all those who came here before.

"It's fine and crisply done," Adam spoke as he packed the bread.

"Thank you..." Isabella spoke, unsure.

"You can start working from tomorrow. Eight dollars per hour, six hours each day including weekdays."

What? Did I hear that right? Isabella blinked hard trying to discern if she was caught up in a dream or not.

Adam turned around after a while as he did not get any response. He saw the girl standing there with a funny expression.

A weird one, Adam thought to himself. It was the second time he saw her spacing out, the first time was when he asked her to bake.

Did she find the working hours troublesome?

"Since you are a student, you can work for only a few hours." Thinking that the girl is concerned about her grades, Adam relented.

Just when he thought that the girl would be happy, he was surprised by her excessive reaction.

"No!"

"You don't want the job?"

"I will work the entire day as a horse; I'm a brilliant student."

"Really?" Adam was barely able to contain his laughter.

"Yes, I can work for the entire day. But, I need to tell you something." On seeing that she garnered his attention, Isabella continued.

"I was once a delinquent juvenile. Are you OK with someone like me working for you?"

"Your past doesn't concern me. If you mess up anything, I will just drop you at the police station. No worries." Adam shrugged, in an impatient tone, he inquired "So, are you going to join or not?"

"Yes, of course, yes!"