I stood at the back window watching my son Evan load the truck for a lake trip with his wife Marissa and her mother. He gave me a quick hug and a three-page color-coded list, reminding me not to change the scone recipe. “Just follow the list and everything will be fine,” Marissa said before they drove off.
That morning, while running Willa Jean’s Bakery alone, I discovered the petty cash box was short. Digging deeper into the office files revealed zoning papers, renovation quotes, and a note in Marissa’s handwriting about needing my signature for an LLC transfer. My son had been secretly planning to take over and modernize the bakery I built with my late husband Raymond.
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