How to Bake a Perfect Life Read Online Free Page A

over her troubles, obscure some of that terror.
    My brother clomps down the stairs in his heavy boots. “All set.” He lifts his chin to the front yard. “What the hell happened out there?”
    “Broken water pipe.”
    He shakes his head. “You ever do anything the easy way?”
    I shrug. It’s a sore point today. My family all tried to talk me out of using the house as a bakery, but I believed in the location and the model—a boulangerie nestled into the mixed residential and business district on the quaint Westside. I thought I understood how much work an old building might be.
    I underestimated it by about 500 percent.
    He points behind me. “Don’t look now, but you’ve got help.”
    I turn around in time to see my mother. My first urge is tohide Katie behind me. “Mom! I didn’t realize you were coming this morning.”
    Lily is a small, trim woman with blond hair she keeps clipped short, once every three weeks, like a man. She’s wearing a tidy knit pantsuit, black with purple piping. “Good morning!” she says. “I thought you might need some help. And besides, I had to bring doughnuts, didn’t I?”
    “Mom,” I say, gesturing to the shelves of bread around us, “you have noticed that this is a bakery?”
    “No, you’re the one who says it’s a boulangerie , which is breads, not pastries. You don’t have crullers, do you?” She shoves the box from Dunkin’ Donuts into my hand and bends toward Katie as if she is six instead of thirteen. “Hello!” Her voice is a little too … bright. “You must be Katie.”
    The girl nods, clutching her book close to her chest. “I like doughnuts.”
    “See?” Lily waves her hand. “C’mon. Let’s all have some.” She marches toward the door that leads up the stairs to my home kitchen. “You coming, Ryan?”
    “Uh … no.” My brother wiggles his nose. “Gotta get back to work.”
    Katie plants her feet. “What about my dog?”
    “You have a dog?” Lily asks.
    “She does,” I say. “And maybe, Mom, that would be something you could do. The dog is stuck at the El Paso airport. He had the wrong carrier, and Katie, I’m guessing”—I look at her for confirmation—“didn’t have the money to get the whole thing sorted out.”
    “Baby, don’t you have a cell phone?”
    Katie all but rolls her eyes. “I don’t even have lunch money.”
    I smile. She can hold her own with my mother. “Let’s call the airport right now. See what we can find out. Upstairs. With food.” I open the box. “Have a doughnut to tide you over.”
    She takes two, and by the time we get upstairs, the first is gone.
    My mother is in charge of looking up numbers while I take the bread to slice and butter for a grilled cheese sandwich. The loaf is fragrant with baking. “Smell that.” I hold it out to Katie.
    She bends forward and sniffs politely. “Uh-huh.” She narrows her eyes when I start to slice a chunk of white cheddar for the sandwich. “Do you have any normal cheese?”
    “It’s just cheddar.”
    Lily looks over the top of her rectangular purple glasses. “She means American, Ramona. All children like American cheese.” To Katie she says, “Yellow slices, right?”
    “Yeah. Like in those little wrappers sometimes.”
    I’m pretty sure there is no American cheese in my fridge. I’m a cheese freak, but not for that. “Sorry, honey. I don’t have any. Do you want to try this?”
    Her left foot swings. She is very, very thin. I can see the exact shape of her wrist bones. “Can I just eat more doughnuts?”
    “No. You need some real food.”
    “Peanut butter and jelly?”
    “That I can do.”
    “Not the crunchy kind, though, is it?”
    “No.” I smile in spite of myself. “It’s smooth.”
    “Good.” Katie sits gingerly at the table, her backpack slung around her shoulders, the paperback still clutched in her hands.
    “Do you want to put your stuff away first? Maybe wash your face and hands?”
    “I’d like to go to the