So much hustle and bustle of holiday spirit, High Rise & Shine on the corner of 6th and Pine welcomed bundled faces to warm drinks coupled with fresh pastries; business men and women on their routine route, but can’t deny mingling tones of cinnamon, tang and yeast aroma wafting out after the swing of the garland decorated door, to saunter inside, greeting Cadence’s son, Travis, who nods and notes their orders, sliding the slip on the counter behind him for Cadence to rotate the espresso machine’s grounds, while Travis follows the men and women’s points to whatever baked goodie they’ll take to go.

Not every seat was occupied. Those who weren’t hurried had been enjoying the quaint atmosphere since before Eliza entered, she decidingly seating herself at a far corner booth nearest a window view, snow just beginning to fall, yet it wasn’t cold enough to stick.

Travis finished clearing a table to then approach Eliza, she draping her wool winter coat around the backrest of an adjacent empty chair and fluffing her frizzy curls from being tucked underneath a knitted beanie, dropping it on the gleaming wooden table. “Wow, what a sudden chill,” Eliza commented, giving Travis her order: a breakfast croissant with a slice of raspberry cheesecake and a hot buttered rum. “How was your Thanksgiving?” Travis attempted chitchat, Eliza restraining a wry smirk. “I’ll be full for the next week,” she said, sitting, removing her leather gloves. “Well, at least you have room for a croissant and cheesecake,” Travis said, losing eye contact and shuffling to the next set of customers.

Eliza breathed to the smooth tempo of piano jazz, letting the small iron fireplace soon heat her damp clothes, she huffing a sigh, now relaxing. Almost begrudgingly, she unzipped her laptop bag and hoisted the laptop on the table, flipping it open, it already awake and awaiting commands. She signed in, and a cluster of documents, sticky notes, and blinking IM icons filled the screen - a white blaze compared to the bakery’s cozy industrial ambiance, their gooseneck ceiling lights emitting a wash of golden glow. Eliza blinked, trailing her sight to peer out the window, observing downtown’s congestion, how many people walked alone or in pairs.

“Your buttered rum will be up shortly,” Cadence’s voice was heard to the right, she bringing the plate of the croissant and cheesecake slice. When Eliza’s eyes met her’s, Cadence held a warm smile as recognition and appreciation to Eliza’s considerable visits. Eliza thanked her, the scent of raspberries prickling her nose.

Her laptop pinged. An email.

Eliza squinted at the laptop, then the dish.

Two tables down, friends erupted in laughter, covering their mouths to prevent a chewed pastry escaping.

Her laptop pinged again. It was only 8:30am. The IM icons continued to blink, and the typed document’s words started blending together.

Someone honked, Eliza noticing a group of bobbling heads scooting across her laptop’s lid - an entire family; young kids squealing, aunts and uncles discussing, teens avoiding their parents’ scorns, grandparents sightseeing, causing the impatient taxi to hit his horn while they crossed the street, marching themselves inside High Rise & Shine, carrying multiple conversations as they shouted and repeated their orders to one person, a mid-50s fatherly figure.

Eliza’s laptop pinged again, and she closed the lid, handling the croissant to her lips, admiring the unpredictable entertainment unraveling.

The youngest, maybe six, argued to a ten-year-old, maybe her older brother, about how the Nordstrom Santa wasn’t the real Santa, but he worked for Santa. The ten-year-old, ogling the array of desserts, tugged at the motherly figure’s arm, requesting which dessert he wanted. Cadence, on the other end, leaned over the pastry display case, struggling to hear what was an order and what could be part of their previous topic. Travis managed to squeeze between the group, holding Eliza’s buttered rum. She finished her croissant, brushing the crumbs on her fingers onto the plate, before sinking a fork into the cheesecake, presenting Travis with a grin when he arrived at her table. “Santa should gift us a bigger bakery,” he muttered, glancing at Eliza, them both chuckling.