2. Chapter 2 #2
When I’d tried to pitch ideas to Gale, I spent five whole minutes trying to get her to hear me. And once she could, she shot down every single one. Apparently, she was happy with the way she’d been running things for the past forty years and wasn’t about to change anything now.
And what did I know about running a bakery? According to Richard Besserman, nothing.
“Will any place be good enough, though?” Lex asked, breaking me out of the slew of unpleasant memories bombarding my brain. “Don’t get me wrong, you know I love being your guinea pig. But your baking should be shared with the world.”
The pit in my stomach burrowed deeper. Yeah, my treats were pretty good. If that were all that went into owning a business, I’d be set. And I probably wouldn’t be in Detroit in the first place. But whatever.
“You know” —I sent the mixing bowl I’d been scrubbing through the washer— “speaking of how much you enjoy my baking, I’m about to put the finishing touches on the trial run for your wedding reception cupcakes.”
“Ooh,” she cooed, successfully distracted from her crusade, “what flavors are the finalists?”
“There’s still the salted caramel you liked, but these ones are apple snickerdoodle.” I cast a sidelong glance at the miniature cookies cooling nearby. “I’ve been toying with a new recipe, too, but I think it might be a little on the sweet side for Colt. He’s not as much of a chocoholic as us.”
“True. I’d complain about that if it didn’t mean I got to finish all the desserts he can’t make it through.”
“Fair point,” I allowed.
I abandoned the dishes to check the cookies. Satisfied they’d cooled enough, I set to work positioning them in the swirls of frosting on the cupcakes I’d just finished.
I would’ve felt guilty about using Gale’s bakery to make my own experiments, but I’d gotten through all the tasks she’d set for me for the day.
I’d even frosted the four dozen cupcakes for the baby shower a client was picking up tomorrow.
Gale wouldn’t have anything to do after I left today unless someone came in and wanted fifty cupcakes without a preorder. It wasn’t common, but it had happened.
And, again, if she fired me, she’d have to hire two people to do what I do. So, there. She hadn’t given me a raise or promotion, so this was the tradeoff.
“Do I get to try these new cupcakes you’ve made?”
I laughed, pausing between placing cookies. “It wouldn’t make much sense not to, considering it’s your wedding reception. Tell me, is Colt having a conniption because I haven’t finalized the flavors yet?”
Her beau loved planning almost as much as he loved her. The two were about as opposite as you could get, yet they fit together perfectly.
“He probably would be if work wasn’t such a nightmare this week. The hours have been insane.” Lex sighed, sounding much older than she was.
It was moments like this that made it hard not to think about what horrible things my little sister might have seen in her line of work. To worry about whether she’d survive each day. What enemies she made by being an FBI agent.
It was easy to feel like I’d slipped through the cracks in these moments, too. No matter how much I tried, I’d never understand everything she’d gone through. And no matter how much she wanted to confide in me, there were some things she’d simply never be able to tell.
Loving someone who worked in the line of duty wasn’t always easy on the heart, but it wasn’t like I could complain. I wasn’t the one risking my life. By now, I’d had practice with the stress. Sort of.
I forced a cheerfulness I didn’t feel into my voice. “Yeah, are you going to have all your court testifying wrapped up in time for your bachelorette party? It’s in, like, three weeks, right?”
Psh, as if I didn’t know. The girls’ night squad had been planning it for months now.
Basically since Lex got engaged. But as far as she knew, we were going out for drinks and having a hot wing eating contest. Which, I mean, we would totally do.
But with Hattie involved in the planning, it wasn’t going to be that simple.
The woman may be twenty years older than me, but she had more spunk—and quite frankly, energy —than all of us put together.
“About that…” Lex trailed off.
I paused halfway through boxing the cupcakes. “You’re not, are you?”
“I’m sorry. They scheduled a huge trial for a drug distributor for that afternoon, and I’m not sure how late it’ll go. Could we reschedule?”
I shrugged, not at all bothered by the change of plans. It’s not like we had any reservations we couldn’t move around. “Of course. I know what your hours can be like. Most of the time you don’t even know how your week will look.”
I finished boxing the cupcakes and set to work washing the cooling rack and cookie sheets I’d dirtied.
“Right,” Lex mused.
The scheming note in her voice set the hairs on the back of my neck on edge. You didn’t spend your whole childhood with someone like her without learning how to tell when she was planning something nefarious.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I don’t like it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her feigned innocence was a little too thick to be convincing. “I was simply going to suggest you drop the cupcakes by the courthouse since I don’t think I’ll be able to pick them up before you’re in bed for the night.”
The cookie sheet slipped from my hands where it banged against the sink with the fervor of a thousand war drums and twice the volume.
Admiral Ackbar from Star Wars came to mind, yelling with his little alien jowls about how this was a trap.
“Isn’t your whole squad testifying this week?
Yeah, no. It’s bad enough I have to avoid Max at home, I’m not risking running into him anywhere else. Nice try.”
“It was worth a shot,” she grumbled. “Fine, I’ll swing by and pick them up on my way home. And if you’re already sleeping, I’m kicking down the door.”
I almost laughed, but I wasn’t convinced she was joking.
We said our goodbyes, and I returned to my washing with determination. The scent of dish soap and hot dishes intertwined with the ever-present smell of cinnamon and sugar.
“Where are the cupcakes for the Miller order, dear?” Gale’s voice croaked, barely audible over the roar of the washer.
I spared her a glance, already preparing myself to yell to be heard.
She wore the characteristic pastel pink apron every employee had, complete with the bakery’s logo emblazoned on her pink ball cap.
It contrasted beautifully with her brown skin and black hair streaked with gray.
Her shoulders were stooped with age, and she seemed to have a perpetual smile on her lips, no matter how faint.
For all my frustrations working here, I couldn’t help but like Gale.
She was a great baker. She let me do my own thing most of the time, and she never shied away from butter like a lot of other bakers did in an effort to be more health-conscious.
My philosophy was, if you were going to treat yourself to a boatload of carbs and sugar, it better taste amazing. And butter was magical.
“Right side!” I answered, referring to the designated area in the front of the walk-in fridge for all outgoing orders for the day. The rest of the boxes had already been picked up, so it shouldn’t be difficult to find the dozen vanilla buttercream on vanilla sponge.
Her weathered brown face creased in a broad smile as she shuffled on her way. “Thanks, dear.”
I’d returned to my washing when Gale spoke again, now standing by the doors to the front of the house.
“Oh, Dekker. I won’t be here tomorrow, remember.
I’m going to be out of town until next weekend to help my goddaughter with her new baby.
My grandson Seth will be here to help in the afternoons, but you’ll be in charge. ”
“Sounds good!” I hollered back, already certain she wouldn’t hear me anyway.
A mix of emotions warred inside me at her reminder.
It grated on me I’d be doing all the jobs a manager or owner would with no difference in pay or title.
At the same time, I’d been looking forward to this week and a half since Gale had asked me to cover for her.
Not much would be different, aside from the fact I could make a treat of the day.
I’d have more freedom to do whatever I wanted wherever I wanted.
It was all the things I loved about running my own bakery without any of the risks or downsides. I could even interact with customers.
That , I wasn’t so sure about.
Oh, and I’d have to work with Seth, whom I’d never met but heard plenty of stories about.
So, if conversation stalled, I could bring up the fact he apparently skied off a chicken coop roof when he was ten and dressed his family’s cat up as a banana for Halloween when he was even younger.
Quality ice breakers that weren’t at all creepy or weird, right?
It wasn’t until I was nearly out the door for the end of my shift I realized the box of Lex’s cupcakes were gone. Poof. Kapoot.
After searching the walk-in, prep tables, and shelves all around the kitchen, I’d figured out Gale had grabbed the box of apple snickerdoodle cupcakes instead of the vanilla ones the customer had ordered. Had she thought I said “right there” when I’d answered?
Well, gingersnaps . That wasn’t good.
Now Lex was out of luck, and the lawyers at Miller and Clark would be in for a nice surprise.
Assuming they weren’t allergic to cinnamon or apples, of course, or else we could be facing a lawsuit.
Exactly what I needed, right? With the way my luck was going, I’d probably have one of the lawyers showing up and slapping me with the paperwork tomorrow.
I wiped an errant curl from my forehead, my stomach already churning with the thought.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out. There wasn’t anything I could do about it now, short of ordering yet another Uber and catching a ride to the law firm myself.
That would probably end more disastrously than letting fate run its course.
Right now, I should worry about walking home since my car was still comatose. Or completely dead forever.
At least my dignity had some company.
The rain held off the entire walk home, plump drops splattering the concrete around me as I made it inside. Blessedly, the early afternoon hour meant I’d completely avoided Max, too.
Maybe my luck was changing after all.