Love; the true triamphur

Stan pulled up to his mother’s bakery in the disheveled clothing he had left in the night before. In hopes that he would learn enough in time to allow his mom to have a suitable retirement, he's had one too many sleepless nights learning the delicate recipes that created the success. He was tired. Too tired to realize there was still flour in his hair. Too tired to smell the saffron on his jeans. Too tired to see the caution tape.

...Caution tape?

All of a sudden, Stan’s hearing came back. He started hearing the sirens, and the screams directing him to put his hands up. Freightened, his hands shot up as he dropped to his knees, his keys falling to the floor. The bell key chain clanked against the ground, adding to the flurry of sounds bombarding his already tired ears. Stan saw two officers shuffle towards him from either side. Before the words “I'm the owner’s son” managed to fumble out of his mouth, he was in cuffs. Stan was quickly whisked away to the station, and had hoped his mom would come in time. 

Hours later, a familiar face walked into the interrogation room, with a paper cup holding a steaming cup of tea. 

“Hi darling.”

“Mama!!!”

Terrified, Stan tried to stand up to hug her, only to remember that he was still in cuffs. Tears welled up in his eyes, and spilled over as his mom put the cup down and embraced him. 

“Mom I don't understand, why am I here?”

“The bakery was robbed, sweetie.”

“But they didn't even ask if I worked there or not. Before I knew what was happening, I was on the ground and cuffed!”

Mrs Hara couldn't stifle her chuckle.

“Mom!” Stan pouted, upset and now angry that he wasn't being given a straight answer.

“Honey, I'm sorry. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?”

The quizzical look on Stan’s face sent Mrs Hara into hysterics. With a few deep breaths, she took her compact out of her purse, and opened it. As she wiped tears of laughter from her eyes, Stan saw for the first time that his ordinarily tan skin was caked with flour, along with his hair. For the first time that day he truly saw himself as he really looked like, and he chuckled. He slumped back into his chair and put his hands to his face, taking a deep breath. As he did so, a detective walked into the room. 

“Good morning, my name is detective Rodriguez, and I am the lead detective in your case this morning Mrs Hara.”

“Good morning detective. I think there’s been a misunde-”

“Mrs Hara, we responded to an activated alarm at 2:15 AM, and found the bakery to be lit up, with flour everywhere, broken spice bottles, and the cash register ripped open. Additionally we saw your office ripped apart. At 4:30, the suspect, Mr…” The detective looked at his notes and stopped short. “...Hara?”

“Im her son. Adoption.” Stan stepped in. 

Detective Rodriguez closed his notebook and leaned back in his chair. Realizing his mistake, he sighed and unlocked the handcuffs. Stan stretched his wrists, rubbing them in an attempt to remove the soreness and redness. 

“Mrs Hara, Mr Hara, I sincerely apologize for the mistake that was made here.”

“Well, it'll be difficult to overlook the profiling that happened, but considering that my son has been overworking himself and has forgotten hygiene, I think we could make an exception.”

“ The problem is, we still don't know who the culprit is. In cases like this, it's generally someone who knows the owner, and it definitely seemed to be personal. Is there anyone who you think would do this?”

Mother and son looked at each other. 

“My niece,” Mrs Hara started, “ She’s been through a rough time her whole life. Her father is an alcoholic, and abusive at that. She also seems to be following down that path herself. I tried to help her… Employed her for about a month before she became upset about the taxes taken out of her pay that she quit.”

“Right, and what could she have been looking for? Is there anything that is valuable beyond its monetary value in the bakery.”

“Not particularly,” responded Stan. Our ingredients tend to be high end but that's it.”

The detective noted the niece’s name and address, and moved on. “Lets go to the bakery, and find what the damage is.”

Upon finally entering the bakery, Mrs Hara immediately turned on the robot cleaner to help with the floor, and went to the cash register, as Stan went to do inventory in the back. 

Three hours later, the bakery was set to open again, and Mrs Hara sent over the damages done to the police and insurance. $100 dollars was stolen, and another $150 in supplies were damaged. Overall not a large loss, but it made more sense to their likely suspect. 

“Hey hun!”

“Yeah ma!”

“Go Home!”

Stan glanced out from the kitchen and squinted his eyes. 

“Leave you alone after a break in? No thanks.”

“It wasn't a request for love. Last time you worked too much you got arrested on suspicion of break in. Go home, shower and rest.”

Stan slumped over and shuffled towards the door, mumbling to himself. He knew his mom appreciated the work effort, and he knew she was right. But what he wanted more than anything was to help her succeed.  

Fresh from a shower, Stan settled into bed, and closed his eyes. Barely a moment had passed before a subtle ring came from the other room: his phone. The ringing stopped before he set foot on the ground, but he was already moving. 

A text: ‘I can't believe you think I'd do that to family.’ all for 100 lousy bucks…’

‘Tara, we don't want to believe that you would do anything of the sort. But nothing else was stolen, and you're the only employee we ever had. It was the only conclusion we could come to.’

‘ Thought you could get away with it, huh.’

Stan put the phone down. He didn't want to deal with this. He didn't want the already strained relationship to get worse. He screencapped the conversation, and sent it to his mom.

‘We need to be extra cautious mom. She’s in a mood.’

With that, he realized he was too exhausted to deal with it any further.From there, he fell into bed and lost track of time. 

Carla Hara came from a tough neighborhood. Her family were considered upper middle class, but the class of people never matched. She knew she wanted to survive on her own. To prosper. To look after her community. When she started the bakery, it was for herself. She was tired of working somewhere that controlled her life. Adopting Stan was the second best thing to happen to her after that. She was growing tired, but she loved her job regardless, and let Stan believe he was taking over because she wanted to combine her two best successes in life. So when she received the call that he had been arrested, her heart sank. She couldn't believe what had happened, and did not want to believe it to be true. So her relief when she walked in and saw easily where the confusion had taken place, she fought to hold back tears. She knew she could relax then, and that it was easy to straighten the whole thing out. Like Stan, she did not want to jeopardize her family's already strained relationship, but hearing what else had occurred, what more can she believe? Tara had a history, and was the only one outside of Stan who worked there. Seeing Stan’s interaction with her worried Carla. And so, that night, she stayed in the apartment above the bakery. Whatever had happened, whatever they were looking for, whoever had done this, she was sure they’d be back. Little did she know she was being watched.

At 2:30 AM, Carla woke up to the apartment filled with smoke, and a sweet charing scent in the air, like fire scorned marshmallows. Coughing, she rolled to the floor, only to be met with more smoke and wood a little too warm for her liking.Slipping on her sandals, Cala ran out, grabbing a fire extinguisher, and squinted in search of the orange flames that caused it. The fire had spread to the front counter, and Carla's quick thinking extinguished it as she followed it back to it’s cause. It was in the kitchen where she ran into her brother in law.

“What do you want Chris?”

“What’s rightfully mine!!!”

“What do you mean?

“Chris, what are you talking about?”

Chris turned around and caught a glint of the antique necklace around Carla’s neck. He charged toward her.

“That necklace! It was MY mothers! You have no right to it!”

“It was given to me by Adam, Chris. And more importantly, it’s Stan’s history too.”

“He’s not gonna want it! It should be Taras

“Chris… What’s really going on?”

“Everyone thought Adam was the perfect one but he wasn't. He was just as bad as me once! When our mother died, and he got that necklace, that's when he changed! It should be mine! I'm the oldest!”

“Chris. Adam loved you. But he couldn't help you, and that's what killed him. I know you're hurting… but please. Honor his memory… leave it alone. Leave us alone… “

“Why do you get to be successful? You got your start with his money didn't you! This place should be mine and Tara’s!”

“I had this place before I knew Adam. It was him that helped it flourish, but not his money. His drive. His love. For me, for his son.. Our son.. That's why we were successful. Chris. Please know that you are always family. But this is how I remember Chris. It's important to me. Success is important to me. Please… leave…”

As this conversation took place red and blue lights started growing closer. A broken down door brought a gust of new air into the bakery, and the fire grew exponentially. Clara saw a flurry of yellow coats subdue it, and walked outside and across the street. She sat on the bench across her shop and remembered how she used to sit there when the store first opened. When she had emptied her pockets to purchase the place. She remembered when Adam sat next to her a few years later, as her business grew. With little Stan sitting with her as she and Adam were about to marry. And now, watching her business attempt to survive a fire. She could see that the love was still there. Touching her necklace, she stood up… love always triumphs, she thought. Love was the ultimate successor. No amount of talent could take that place… As Carla turned around to call Stan, she saw Chris being walked away in handcuffs.

“Hey Stan… you're never going to believe what happened.”