Chapter 59

• PENELOPE
• It was 12:03 a.m, and the bakery hummed with desperation. Jess sat cross-legged on the floor with her phone pressed to her ear, flipping through the supplier list on her iPad. Maya leaned against the counter, a notepad clutched in one hand and a pen tapping nervously in the other.
• I was hunched over my laptop, trying to cross-reference emergency distributors with 24-hour courier services, while praying someone — anyone — could deliver before sunrise.