(Special to the Oakland Press/ ANNE KNIGHT WEBER) Stephanie Vo, baker and owner of the Clarkston Village Bakeshop, prepares dough for her signature cut-out frosted sugar cookies.

Customers craving cookies, cakes, companionship, coffee, chillers, ice cream cones, charm and comfort find all that and more at the Clarkston Village Bakeshop in Clarkston.

Wedged between restaurants on Main Street, the Village Bakeshop defies competition by being one of a kind. The store has been independently owned and managed for the last 17 years by Stephanie Vo.

A bell on the glass door rings to announce the arrival and departure of each customer. Three large round oak tables host animated gatherings of regular customers all day long. They ask about each other. “Has John been here yet?” Chuck asks. The worn wood floor, exposed brick wall and glass cabinet full of trays of cookies greet each newly arrived customer, as warmly and sweetly as the heavenly smell of donuts frying on the premises. “It smells so good in here,” everyone says, standing still and sniffing the air. The best-selling items are not fancy. Most families make the same cookies at home: Tollhouse cookies, snickerdoodles, brownies, chocolate no-bakes, ginger snaps and sugar cookies.

One cookie, made daily by Vo, has captured the imagination of bakeshop customers near and far, old and young. These are the signature sugar cookies cut into the shape of daisies, soccer balls, hearts, stars, baby carriages or Easter eggs, depending on the season. Each cookie looks like a miniature piece of art, frosted in bright colors with white frosted accents to show details like the spokes on the wheels of the baby carriage. Frequently, customers request a dozen frosted cookies and plan to ship them to a son in Colorado, or to ship cookies to a family that has moved to Florida or to send them to an ailing friend in Virginia. Just as often, an outof-state visitor shows up at the bakeshop to announce in a dazed way that they are back. They used to live here and are visiting an old friend, and their local bakeshop, still here, is exactly as they remember it. The recent arrivals, newly moved to town, stop at the bakeshop to get their bearings. “We just moved here,” they say delightedly.

Couples come here to spend time together over coffee. Young, serious men sit at the window to study for exams. Day trippers come in to explore the village. Families arrive for dessert after dinner. Skateboarders come for a break from rolling around Depot Park on Sunday afternoon. Several come to sit by themselves with the newspaper.

Days at the bakeshop start at 3 a.m. That’s when Monica McVeigh, bakeshop baker for the last 17 years, leaves Flint to drive to Clarkston. She starts making the fancy donuts and pies and date bars in the basement, patiently stopping her work from time to time to come upstairs to wait on customers. She always sets Fred’s maple frosted cinnamon roll carefully aside in a white bag, ready to hand to him when he stops on his way to work as a greeter at Meijer’s. Monica is the one constantly stuffing dollar bills into the tip jar of other bakeshop employees.

Stephanie arrives at 9 a.m. to order supplies, bake cookies, manage staff schedules and don the myriad hats she wears as baker, chief executive and store owner. By early afternoon, Stephanie and Monica have left, and then another baker comes in to make donuts in the late afternoon. Coffee gets restocked, day old donuts are bagged for sale, and the floors are mopped. At 9 p.m. the last nibblers are swept away as firmly as crumbs are swept from under the tables. The Clarkston Village Bakeshop doors close until 5:30 a.m. the next day.