I opened it to remind myself that a dream does not lose its worth just because someone else couldn’t see it.

There is a thing that happens when you spend years being told your wants are foolish.

You stop saying them out loud, and then you stop letting yourself feel them, and after long enough you forget you had them at all.

Christina had called the bakery low-class.

Zane had filed it under someday. Between the two of them they had put my one small private wish in a drawer and taught me to leave it there, and the worst part was how easily I obeyed — how a woman who ran a company could be talked out of a loaf of bread.

So the bakery was not really about bread.