Chapter 3 - The Apology Nobody Wanted to Film
On Monday morning, Simone returned to Sweet Magnolia Bakery.
This time, she wore a simple cream blouse and carried a folder beneath her arm.
There were no sunglasses on her head.
No elaborate introduction.
She waited quietly until Maya finished helping a customer.
"Is Ms. Bennett here?"
Maya looked up.
Recognition crossed her face.
"She's in the kitchen. I'll tell her."
A moment later, Tasha Bennett emerged from behind the swinging door.
Tasha was forty-six, with flour on one sleeve and the weary expression of someone who had spent the weekend answering questions she never wanted to receive.
"Ms. Carter."
"Ms. Bennett, I owe you an apology."
Tasha crossed her arms.
"You owe one to my customer."
"I know."
"Because she didn't come in here asking for a lecture. She came in for breakfast."
Simone looked down at the folder.
"You're right."
Tasha studied her.
Apparently, she had expected an argument.
"She's coming by this morning," Tasha said. "I called to tell her about that video. If she wants to talk to you, that's her decision."
Simone nodded.
"I'll wait."
She took a seat near the window.
During the next twenty minutes, she watched the bakery operate.
A construction worker ordered coffee and two breakfast sandwiches. A mother bought muffins for her children. An older man counted coins before purchasing a plain roll.
Maya quietly told him that yesterday's unsold bread was available at a discount.
The man thanked her.
No speeches.
No embarrassment.
Just a person helping another person eat.
Simone looked at the presentation inside her folder.
It contained charts, nutritional guidelines, cost estimates, and a proposed partnership.
Community Table wanted to help the bakery provide affordable breakfast choices to older adults and families struggling with rising grocery prices.
Tasha would supply prepared food.
The nonprofit would coordinate volunteers and contribute funding.
The senior center would offer space for distribution.
The goal was not to eliminate pastries.
It was to make several affordable choices available.
Yet Simone had arrived on Saturday acting as though she understood everything about a customer from a single glance.
When Loretta entered the bakery, she spotted Simone immediately.
"Well," Loretta said, "look who's back."
Simone stood.
"Ms. Washington, may I speak with you?"
Loretta glanced toward Tasha.
"Depends. Are you about to inspect my breakfast?"
Tasha covered a smile.
"No, ma'am," Simone said. "I'm here to apologize."
Loretta set her purse on a chair.
"All right. I'm listening."
Simone inhaled.
"What I said Saturday was rude. I didn't know anything about you, and I acted like I had the right to tell you how to live."
Loretta said nothing.
Simone continued.
"I work in nutrition education. I think I've started confusing helping people with correcting them."
That caught Loretta's attention.
"That's a mighty important difference."
"I know."
"Do you?"
Simone hesitated.
"I think I'm beginning to."
Tasha brought coffee to the table.
For several minutes, the three women discussed the breakfast program.
Loretta learned that the nonprofit had been consulting with the senior center about offering meals twice a week to people who could not regularly afford breakfast outside their homes.
There would be fruit, egg dishes, oatmeal, sandwiches, and baked goods.
Participants could choose what suited their needs.
"That sounds useful," Loretta admitted.
"It could be," Tasha replied. "But I don't want my shop turning into a spectacle."
Simone opened the folder.
"I can remove myself from the project if that helps."
Tasha shook her head.
"You helped design the thing. Walking away doesn't fix what happened."
Loretta watched Simone carefully.
For the first time, the younger woman seemed less interested in being correct than in understanding the consequences of being wrong.
"Why does everybody's food bother you so much?" Loretta asked.
Simone's hands went still.
"My mother was sick for years."
Her voice softened.
"I watched her lose more and more of the things she wanted to do. And I kept thinking, if I'd said the right thing earlier, maybe something would have changed."
Loretta leaned back.
"I'm sorry about your mother."
"Thank you."
"But, baby, grief doesn't give us ownership of somebody else's choices."
Simone swallowed.
"I know that now."
Loretta glanced toward the untouched folder.
"Knowing something and living it are two different jobs."
Before Simone could answer, Tasha's phone rang.
She stepped away, listened, and returned with a worried expression.
"That was Community Table."
Simone straightened.
"What did they say?"
Tasha placed the phone on the counter.
"The sponsor wants the whole breakfast launch postponed until this publicity settles."
Simone stared at her.
Loretta looked down at the folder.
May you like
The problem was no longer whether two women could forgive an awkward exchange.
It was whether a useful neighborhood program would become another casualty of a moment that had already gone too far.
