One weekend, racing against a deadline, she finished putting the last touches on a buttercream wedding cake and loaded it into her car. Just as she prepared to drive off, she realized she was about to leave the front door of her unoccupied bakery wide open. It was her lightning-bolt moment: I’m making myself crazy being this stressed out. And she realized, “I wasn’t in love with baking anymore,” she said later. “It was like this albatross of butter around my neck.”
