Chapter Sixty One
The following week at Johnson’s Oven settled into a very gentle, beautiful rhythm that I was truly starting to love with all my heart. My mornings were entirely filled with the wonderful, warm scent of fresh baking bread, the steady, loud hum of the large silver mixing machines, and sweet Mrs. Johnson’s incredibly kind and patient guidance. Every single day, I felt myself getting significantly faster at shaping the heavy dough into perfect loaves, decorating the sweet little cupcakes with colorful pink icing, and managing the chaotic morning rush of hungry local townspeople. For a few precious, quiet hours each day, I felt completely like myself again. I felt like Tessa—not just the dangerous National President’s protected old lady, but a regular civilian girl who could
