Chapter 7
Chloe woke at two a.m. thinking about Sam, and somewhere between brushing her teeth and pinning her beloved beaded clip into her hair, guilt crept up her chest and filled her throat. She gripped the edge of the bathroom sink and stared at her reflection.
You cannot have feelings for him.
Jean-Marc hadn’t been gone a year yet. Tears filled her eyes and she glared at herself.
Jean-Marc loved her. She loved him. Madly.
Was she ready to forget him? To forget everything they’d shared, what they’d meant to each other?
But as she hurried to Haven’s in that inky blackness that happens right before dawn, she felt his death more than ever.
He was gone. Never to return. If he was still alive, they’d be together.
It wasn’t forgetting him to think about another man. Right?
With the kitchen lights blazing and the ovens warming up, Chloe started the bread rising, mixing dough for the crullers, and put Sam and their semi-romantic walk around Gardenia Park out of her mind.
Mostly. She tried not to think about how their hands kept bumping and how easily the conversation flowed.
How her heart felt, fluttering under her ribs, like it couldn’t quite find its rhythm.
In honor of the approaching spring, they’d attempted to walk without being bundled up in scarves and hats and mittens. Not that she needed anything to keep her warm other than Sam’s glances her way as they strolled and chatted.
After Ruby and Laura Kate arrived at five a.m., Ruby gathered them, as promised, for the barnstorming prayer meeting to figure out if God had any ideas about saving the town from Donut Heaven.
When Chloe suggested God might favor the competitor since Heaven was part of their name, Ruby scoffed and pooh-poohed her.
“God’s a whole lot smarter than that, sister.
” Ruby prayed loud, rigorous prayers while Laura Kate sat in a solemn pose, her lips moving with whispers only she and God heard.
Robin, to the surprise of them all, popped in at five-fifteen and offered a lovely, heartfelt prayer that moved Chloe to tears.
So much so that she asked God to forgive her for every time she cursed when Robin was late.
After fifteen minutes, Laura Kate suggested opening Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter accounts. “I’ll manage them,” she said.
“We’ve been slowly introducing new baked items to the menu,” Ruby said. “The fancy cupcakes and custard tarts are a big hit. But we need that cookie recipe.”
Chloe nodded. “I’m working on it. Truly, I am.” She snapped her fingers. “I could do Moon Pies. Solidify our Southern heritage.”
“Oh, that’s good. Customers around here love the old-school ways. Take that, Donut Heaven. Folks like ordering treats their grandparents bought for a nickel.”
“What about savory pies and pastries on the menu, more of a diner-type atmosphere for folks who come out at lunch time? Or they can take something home for dinner.” Chloe could do pasties and quiche with meat.
“Let’s see if that’s not smacking Donut Heaven in the teeth,” Ruby said. “I told you God would give us ideas.”
“Don’t get too carried away with the God stuff, Ruby,” Chloe said. “We are intelligent women.”
“Who got our brains from the Lord, don’t you forget.”
By the time the bakery opened, Chloe had a list of solid ideas to beef up Haven’s reputation and position in the community, and hopefully increase sales. She might be ready to tell Sam what they faced. Then Laura Kate brought a bit of distressing news.
“The baguettes are overdone. The oven is too hot.”
“What?” Chloe checked the gauge inside the oven, which read twenty degrees higher than the dial setting. Thank goodness they’d baked Frank Hardy’s cake layers yesterday. “Ruby, who did Bob call for oven repairs?”
“Himself.”
Chloe made a face. “Think he’d make the trip up from Florida?”
“Doubt it.”
“Okay, I’ll have to call an industrial oven repairman, which means he’ll come from Nashville or Memphis.”
The “fixer-upper” dollars started totaling up in her head. She could live with buckets of water from a leaky roof, but not with a broken oven. Now she was suddenly nervous and checked the cakes in the walk-in. All the layers were there, safe and sound.
“Laura Kate, let’s put these on the worktable and I’ll show you the finishing touches I want you to add.”
The touted Frank Hardy sixtieth birthday bash was finally here. Tonight. She was nervous and excited to show off her and Laura Kate’s creation. And to see Sam. Something she’d confess to only herself.
Chloe had decorated the layers into the golf course she’d designed. She’d assemble it at the Hardy home later. Laura Kate quickly picked up the techniques Chloe showed her, piping a row of shells around the sand traps and long blades of grass by the water hazards.
“You’re a natural, Laura Kate,” Chloe said. “Though you need to unlearn a couple bad habits.” She showed the younger woman how to hold the pastry bag in one hand and guide it with the other to get a smoother piped line.
“Oh, that’s so much easier than my way of double-fisting it.” Laura Kate exhaled, and her white-blonde bangs whiffled up.
“You learn quickly,” Chloe said. “I don’t understand how you can do such beautiful and delicate work when you and your station look like frosting exploded all over.
” Chloe didn’t know whether to scold the girl, get an attorney on retainer for the inevitable unsafe workplace lawsuit, or offer her a pay raise.
“I know, I’m a mess.” Laura Kate’s hand was steady as she squeezed off the last shell. “I just get so caught up in what I’m doing.”
Chloe remembered feeling like that when she’d first started out. She’d wonder why her back and arms ached, then realize she’d been crouched over a table, piping frosting, making gum paste flowers, or drizzling hot caramel into intricate patterns for three hours.
“That means you love what you’re doing.” Chloe patted Laura Kate’s shoulder. “I can’t fault you for that.”
“I wanted to go to the Culinary Institute of America like you, but my daddy got sick, so I just hung around here and copied everything Donna did, watched YouTube, read books. Every gray hair on my parents’ heads is because of me.
I blew up our kitchen with flour, sugar, eggs, milk, and vanilla bombs so many times… ”
“I’ll be honest, you have more skill and talent than some of the highly educated and trained pastry chefs I worked with in Paris. Good for you.”
More and more, Chloe loved this place. If she ever began to solidify plans of going back to France, maybe getting that little café she and Jean-Marc dreamed about, she was starting to believe that Haven’s might just change her mind. Might.
By mid-morning, the bakery bustled with customers, both homegrown and tourists. It seemed impossible that they could lose their standing in Hearts Bend to a Donut Heaven. But DH had deep pockets. Chloe retreated to the office to balance the books and check on her inventory orders.
“I see you’re finally out of your Sam daze.” Ruby slapped the mail down on Chloe’s desk.
“You exaggerate. I’m not in a Sam daze.” She leafed through the bills, ads, and a magazine.
“Okay, a Sam stupor then.”
“Not even close.” But she had been in a bit of a—okay, a haze—continually pulling her mind back from the park last night.
“Whatever you say, boss lady.” Ruby folded her arms and gave Chloe a steady gaze. “So, Art Loamier just came in for a fritter and coffee.”
The name rang a bell, but a search through her memory drew a blank. “And that matters to me how?”
Ruby tutted and sighed. “He’s on the town council. One from the pro-Donut Heaven camp. I held his coffee hostage until he’d tell me who’s behind this stupid scheme.”
“Did it work?”
“He left without coffee. Took his fritter and was gone. All he’d say was more of what he spouted in the paper. It’ll be good for tourism, bring jobs, and help modernize the town.” Ruby’s disdainful expression made Chloe smile. “Same old claptrap.”
“Thanks for trying.” Chloe knew Ruby hated the thought of Donut Heaven coming to Hearts Bend and changing the town’s hominess and quaintness as much as she did.
“What do you want us to do about Frank’s cake? Laura Kate’s finished that decorating.”
“Let’s start packing it up and loading it in the van.
” As part of the sale, Bob had left his windowless van for the transportation of baked goods around town.
It drove like an old jalopy, but it did the job.
Chloe had just tied on her apron to help Laura Kate box the layers when Sam poked his head into the kitchen.
“Come on in, Sam. Cruller and chocolate milk coming up.”
“Ruby, you’re going to make me fat.”
“Fat chance.” Ruby thought she was so funny.
Chloe smiled and gave him a short wave. Oh, my. He looked…amazing. Street casual Sam, dressed in jeans and a polo, his hair styled except for the stubborn dark curl flopping over his forehead. She didn’t regret brushing on a touch of mascara before daybreak this morning.
“What’s this?” He stood over the drip bucket, which needed to be dumped out back.
“Leak in the roof,” Chloe said. “Cole Danner is giving me a bid.”
“Go ahead and call a roofing contractor for a bid instead of Cole. Cole will just contract it out anyway.” Sam’s gaze went to the table. “Is this Frank’s cake?” He looked genuinely impressed. “Wow.”
“The prettiest decorations are Laura Kate’s.
” Chloe felt so warm standing next to him.
Like he belonged here, admiring her work, helping her with the bakery.
Like they were…partners. “We’ll load it up in a minute,” she said, stepping away from him.
“I’ll drive it to the house and assemble it there. ”
“Can I help?”
“Sam Hardy, are you asking to help with your father’s party?”
“I might. But don’t tell anyone.”
“See, you are a nice man.”