When the Bakery Named a Croissant After Me

I've bought an almond croissant at the same bakery every morning for nine years. Every single morning. Same time, same order, same seat by the window.

This spring, I walked in and saw a new handwritten card in the pastry case: "The Marguerite: almond croissant, extra almonds, just how she likes it."

I just stood there and stared. The baker, a young Frenchman named Julien, came out from the back grinning. "We thought you deserved your own croissant," he said.

I don't know why it made me so emotional. I'm a retired accountant. Nobody's ever named anything after me. I sat down at my seat by the window and ate the Marguerite and felt like a celebrity.

Now strangers order it. I've heard people say, "One Marguerite, please," and I have to hide my smile behind my coffee.