What's in a name - A short story

Well it was finally happening. All the paperwork was filed, the licenses approved, the equipment ordered and the finances sorted. The only thing not sorted was the name.

 

I’d run through various options in my mind over the months leading up to this point, but none of them had felt ‘right’. 

 

It had been my dream since I was 5 years old and baked my first batch of cookies. I swore to myself that one day I would open up my own bakery café and share my passion with the world. 

 

A glance at the clock told me I was late meeting Sarah, so I scrambled to put on my coat and shoes. Marching out the door I realised I’d forgotten my bag, thankfully catching the door before it closed, and I ran in and grabbed it from the kitchen table. 

 

When I reached the cafe I’d arranged to meet Sarah I was beetroot red and panting. I spotted her sat at a table near the window so I walked over while attempting to flatten my flyaway hair. 

 

We ordered drinks and started catching up. She told me about how her husband kept leaving dirty dishes in the sink. I told her about how I made my best batch of muffins yet at the weekend. 

 

Then she starting talking about her son, Adam, something about the contents of his nappy I believe. In truth I wasn’t really listening (and I’m rather glad of it!). My mind had drifted back to the question of what to name the bakery. Sarah didn’t seem to notice and moved on to discussing Adam’s nap schedule. I patiently waited for her to finish, nodding and ah-ing at the appropriate moments. 

 

After a while she ran out of steam and turned her attention back to me,

“So, how’s everything going with the bakery?” 

I launched into a long list of all the details that were now sorted and she smiled encouragingly. 

“That’s great!” She beamed “I’m so proud of you for finally achieving your dream! But have you come up with the name yet?”

I blushed and looked down at my foamy latte. 

“Not yet” I admitted “I just can’t seem to find the right fit”

“Well” Sarah responded, “what was it that made you want to open a bakery in the first place?”

I pondered for a minute, “it was my grandmother who taught me how to bake. I would spend every Saturday with her and I was always so excited to go because I loved baking with her so much. Working together we would come up with the most wonderful creations…” I paused.

“That’s it!” I exclaimed excitedly, “I will name it after her,”. 

“That’s perfect!” Sarah agreed, “I love that you’ll be naming it after the person who started you on this path, and I’m sure she would too”.

 

6 months later Rosalie’s Bakery opened to queues down the street. I just knew that granny was smiling down on me, and felt that I’d done her proud.