Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Emelia approached the front door of the bakery with trepidation, her breath visible in the dark and chilly air. She rubbed her hands on the side of her pants.
She both hated and loved getting up at 5a.m. Hated it because it was hard to get out of bed so early and loved it because she’d soon be in her kitchen working with her hands, surrounded by yummy scents of cinnamon and vanilla and the earthy aroma of freshly risen dough.
Yes, everything was going well. Lilypad Confections was selling out every day. She hired a bread maker and a talented barista. The bakery was busy all day long. Her employees got along well. Her new friends were fun and encouraging.
True, her apartment still left something to be desired, but she’d soon have a little extra money to fix it up.
So, what was wrong?
What was wrong was the menacing note she received a few days ago. An anonymous note tucked under the bakery door. A note claiming she was a fraud, needed to close the shop and get out of town.
At first, Emelia laughed it off. Get out of town? Really?
Was Haywood Lake the Wild West?
She wasn’t going anywhere.
Besides, she couldn’t. There was no extra money to move.
Emelia wondered who would have sent the note.
The more she thought about it, she wondered if Wyatt had found out about the new bakery and was trying to scare her. She wouldn’t put it past him. The thought made her shiver.
Or was it one of her customers?
Emelia sure hoped not. She hadn’t been here long enough to alienate anyone—yet.
It couldn’t be an employee. They were all new, and no one knew her before she moved here.
Six more steps.
Emelia’s heart raced. Time slowed down.
What would she find?
She glanced down at the floor.
Whew! No envelopes.
She let out a huge breath that she didn’t realize she was holding.
Emelia turned and walked back to the kitchen—her happy place. The heady scent of yeast tickled her nose, and the warmth from the ovens embraced her like an old friend. The faint hum of the refrigerator filled the room.
It wasn’t time to open yet. They had another hour to go, and she had pastries to start.
The barista would be in at 6a.m. for the seven o’clock opening.
John Peters, the bread maker, looked over at her from the industrial-size mixer where he was working.
“I made the rustic Italian, and I’m working on a seeded oat bread for today’s special.” He turned to add flour to the mixer.
“Yum.”
“I have some ideas for new breads I’d like to pass by you,” he said over the whirring of the mixer. “There’s space for more in the display case.”
“Good idea. Talk to me before you leave,” Emelia replied. She tied an apron around her waist and began frosting cinnamon buns.
Emelia had a delivery order at 11a.m. for an afternoon party. A tray of petit fours and three dozen profiteroles were in the refrigerator. The remaining task was to fill the cream puffs with pastry cream, which would take less than thirty minutes.
It was her first significant order. The shopkeeper was one of the people who had been upset that the bakery was under construction for so long, and she wanted to keep him happy.
“Hey, ho!” Stacy Long, one of Emelia’s servers, walked in the back door. Emelia glanced over at her newest hire. Stacy had a flair for fashion, and she didn’t disappoint. Today she chose purple striped pants with a flowered print shirt and tied her brown hair into a ponytail.
Emelia didn’t care within reason what the employees had on, because they all wore a full-length dusty rose or charcoal aprons with the Lilypad logo on it that covered half of their bodies. Emelia never thought one should purchase a new wardrobe just for work. Most people didn’t have that kind of money. She sure didn’t.
“What’s on special today?” Stacy asked as she placed her purse in a locker and tied on an apron.
“Oh, I was just going to write them on the chalkboard.” Emelia fished around in her apron pocket for the piece of paper with the day’s specials and handed it to Stacy. “Here’s the list. If you would do that, it’ll save me some time.”
Stacy took the list and glanced at it. “Yum. Tell me one person who isn’t going to love ham and gruyere mini tarts or cinnamon nut quick bread.”
“I know. Plus, John made Italian rustic bread,” said Emelia. That was the great thing about having a bread maker. Emelia loved baking, but she didn’t have time to make bread or serve coffee.
And speaking of coffee, Abby Dalton, barista extraordinaire, just walked in. Joy mentioned that Abby was looking for a job since her previous employer had closed the shop. Emelia was lucky to get her. Abby brought a slew of regulars with her.
The morning went by fast. Emelia could hear laughter and muted voices from the bakery over the whirling mixer.
John was finishing up and putting the bread to rise in the proofing box.
She looked at the clock. Oh no! The cream puffs needed filling, and she had less than an hour to fill them, plate the pastries, and deliver them along with the petit fours to her client.
Emelia pulled out the tray of petit fours to bring to room temperature. Then she brought the tray of cream puffs to the workbench and grabbed the pre-made pastry cream. She filled a pastry bag with the cream and started filling the cream puffs. Planning ahead was a smart move. The pastry items didn’t suffer, and, time-wise, it was smart.
She finished filling the last puff and looked down at the tray. The next step was drizzling chocolate over half of them. It would set in no time. Emelia’s mouth watered looking at them.
“John, there’s a cream puff with your name on it,” she called out.
John made his way over and popped one of the small confections in his mouth. He chewed for a second, frowned, then spit it into his hand.
“God, Emelia. The pastry cream is disgusting,” he said as he threw the puff into the trash.
Disgusting? What the hell? Emelia bit into one and promptly gagged. The sharp metallic taste of salt coated her tongue. This was not the pastry cream she made.
John handed her a glass of water and gulped his. “I saw you making this yesterday. What happened?”
Emelia’s hand trembled, and she closed her eyes.
What happened, indeed? Someone was trying to sabotage her business. But who? And why?
And how would she explain to her customer that she couldn’t deliver? Rumors traveled fast. Another disaster would mean the end of her business with no way to bounce back.