Her mother shook her head. “There’s a difference between changing our ways and changing our principles and values.”

That was just the thing, though. Her mother was not budging on the definition of tradition. She’d rather lose the business than tweak it a little in a different direction.

Tessa looked out the window, where the sun shone brightly on the little shops lining the street. Someone from the candle shop was planting urns with bright red flowers near the main entrance. People were walking by, talking to each other, chatting on their phones.

A sense of pure, utter longing enveloped her and nearly brought her to tears. A ridiculous image appeared in her head, of her running down the street, arms outstretched like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music.

Free.

What did free feel like?

Everyone here had a place. A job. A life.

Well, she had a life, too, but it wasn’t the one she wanted. Her die had been cast as the steady sister, the one who kept everyone on track. And while her mother might talk like Tessa was free to leave, she’d also made it nearly impossible for her to go.

…

“Why are you hiding in here on such a beautiful night?” Tessa’s grandmother asked that evening as she entered the back room of the bakery. Gram took a seat at the big wooden counter, right at home amid the bread racks, electric ovens, and stacks of bagged breads, watching Tessa ice an opera cake that had taken her about three hours to make. It was a masterpiece, with carefully cut layers of almond sponge cake, coffee-flavored buttercream, and ganache.

“I’m not hiding,” Tessa said as she smoothed out the chocolate glaze until it was flawless. “What are you up to?”

Her grandmother held out a hardcover book. She was dressed in a pretty floral blouse and capris, her nearly white hair cut in a stylish bob. “On the way to book club.”

“Oh, how fun.” Tessa silently read the title, Women on Top, and raised a brow. “Gram! What on earth are you reading?”

Her grandmother slid her hand down the front, uncovering the rest of the title. Succeeding as a Female Entrepreneur.

Much more in character. “That’s an interesting selection.”

“I suggested it,” Gram said. “I was hoping I’d learn something to help us.”

“I’m working on that.” Tessa hated that her grandmother was worried about the business at her age. Gram felt obligated to pitch in, but Tessa and her mom didn’t give her more than three half shifts a week. Still, Tessa wanted her to enjoy a real retirement that she’d earned after so many years of hard work.

“What’s all this stuff?” her grandmother asked, pointing to a light ring Tessa had set up. Her phone was suspended on a stack of books next to her cake.