Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
The oven had been her white whale since arriving in Frost Pine Ridge.
It ran fifty degrees hot, which meant everything either burned or had to be carefully monitored and rotated constantly.
Mabel had developed a sixth sense about it over the years, but Jade wanted to actually fix the problem rather than just work around it.
She didn’t love the idea of fiddling around with gas connections, but she wasn’t touching anything to do with that. Nevertheless, she’d try to get the gas company to inspect it after she was done. Hopefully, they did that for free.
She’d watched seventeen different repair videos the night before, taken notes, and even found the original manual buried in a kitchen drawer. The thermostat replacement looked straightforward enough—disconnect the old one, connect the new one, calibrate the temperature. What could go wrong?
“Famous last words,” she muttered, pulling on her rubber gloves.
The first step was turning off the gas and electrical connections, which she did with the methodical precision of someone who had learned the hard way to check everything twice. The old thermostat came out easily enough, its metal housing corroded and clearly past its prime.
The new one went in just as smoothly, and Jade felt a surge of confidence as she connected the wires exactly as the tutorial demonstrated.
When she turned the power back on and set the temperature to three-hundred-fifty degrees, the digital display showed exactly that—no more guessing, no more fifty-degree adjustments.
“Let’s see if you actually mean it,” she said, sliding a tray of test cookies into the oven.
Twenty minutes later, she pulled out perfectly golden sugar cookies, each one evenly baked with no burned edges or pale centers. She bit into one, still warm from the oven, and let out a small whoop of triumph.
“Success?” Mabel asked, emerging from the front of the store where she’d been arranging fresh flowers in a vase.
“Complete success,” Jade announced, holding up the perfect cookie. “Consistent temperature, even baking, no more rotating trays every five minutes.”
“Oh, wonderful!” Mabel clapped her hands together, flour dusting the air around her. “I can finally make my layered cakes again without worrying about them falling in the middle.”
The difference was immediate and noticeable.
By mid-morning, the bakery was filled with the rich, even scent of properly baked goods.
Mabel’s famous cinnamon rolls came out of the oven perfectly golden, their spiral layers distinct and beautiful.
The coffee cake had a golden-brown top that was neither pale nor charred.
Even the bread loaves, which had been Mabel’s daily struggle, emerged with perfect crusts and even crumb.
And the customers noticed.
Mrs. Henderson stopped by for her usual coffee and left with a box of cinnamon rolls, commenting on how incredible they smelled.
Mr. Peters brought his granddaughter in after school, and she insisted on two different kinds of cookies because “they look too good to choose just one.” The teenagers from the high school, who usually just bought sodas from the vending machine outside, actually came in and ordered hot cocoa and brownies still warm from the oven.
By three o’clock, Jade had tallied more sales than the bakery had seen in any single day since she’d arrived. The display case, which had been perpetually half-empty, was nearly sold out. Mabel was humming as she worked, her movements lighter and more energetic than Jade had seen them.
“I think,” Jade said, wiping down the counter and watching another satisfied customer leave with a bag of cookies, “we might actually be turning this around.”
She felt it then—not just hope, but genuine confidence.
The kind that came from solving real problems and seeing concrete results.
The oven was fixed. The display case gleamed under its bright LED lights.
The windows sparkled. The bakery was clean, warm, and filled with the sounds of actual business.
For the first time since arriving in Frost Pine Ridge, Jade allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she could actually pull this off.
The bell over the door chimed, and Jade looked up with a smile, ready to greet another customer. Instead, she found herself face-to-face with Cecily Glick.
Cecily swept into the bakery like a cold front, her cream-colored cashmere coat and severe chignon making the warm, cozy space suddenly feel smaller.
Her gray eyes took in the bustling activity, the nearly empty display case, the obvious signs of a business that was thriving, and her expression grew pinched.
“Miss Bennett,” she said, her voice carrying a particular chill that could freeze hot coffee mid-sip. “I see you’ve been... busy.”
“Hello, Cecily,” Jade replied, forcing her voice to remain pleasant. “What can I help you with today?”
Cecily’s gaze swept the room, taking in every detail of Felicity’s decorating work with obvious disapproval. The garland, the twinkling lights, the festive ornaments—all of it seemed to offend her personally.
“I’m here on official business,” Cecily announced, pulling a heavy, cream-colored envelope from her ridiculously small leather handbag.
“It has come to my attention that this establishment has made numerous modifications to its exterior appearance without proper approval from the Historical Organization.”
She placed the envelope on the counter with the precision of someone serving legal papers. “This is an official notice of violation. You have seventy-two hours to remove all non-period-appropriate decorations and return the building to its approved historical appearance.”
Jade stared at the envelope as if it might bite her. “It’s Christmas garland, Cecily. And some lights.”
“It is an unauthorized modification of a historically significant facade,” Cecily corrected, her voice dripping with false patience.
“Furthermore, your recent... activities... have drawn complaints from concerned citizens about noise, increased traffic, and general disruption to the peaceful nature of our historic district.”
“Complaints from who?” Jade asked.
“That information is confidential. However, I can tell you that the concerns are serious enough to warrant immediate action.” Cecily’s smile was sharp enough to cut glass. “I trust you’ll comply promptly. The fines for continued violations are quite substantial.”
She turned to go, then paused at the door, delivering her parting shot with surgical precision. “It would be such a shame if all this... effort... were to go to waste due to a simple failure to follow proper procedures.”
The door closed behind her with a decisive click, leaving the bakery in stunned silence.
Jade stared at the envelope, her triumph from the morning’s repair success dimming. She opened it and scanned the official-looking document, her frown deepening.
“What does it say?” Mabel asked, moving closer to peer over her shoulder.
“Violation of Bylaw seventeen-point-four,” Jade read aloud. “Non-period-appropriate exterior decorations.” She looked up at the garland framing the windows—thick, lush, and undeniably artificial. “They don’t allow garland?”
“Well, that’s not so bad,” Mabel said, relief evident in her voice. “I was afraid she was going to shut us down entirely.”
Jade kept reading. “Actually... wait.” She pulled out her phone and did a quick search.
“According to the town website, pine garland is specifically allowed for holiday decorating. It’s just that.
..” She looked at Felicity’s beautiful white and silver garland with its shiny bows.
“It has to be actual pine. Not artificial.”
“Oh!” Mabel’s face brightened. “That’s easy enough. There’s a whole forest of pine trees in the back. We can just replace what’s there with real pine. Though Felicity’s garland does look stunning.”
Jade felt the knot in her stomach begin to loosen. “So we just need to swap out the garland?”
“Exactly. Cecily’s just being her usual nitpicky self.” Mabel waved a dismissive hand. “She probably spent an hour with a magnifying glass looking for something to complain about.”
Jade looked out the window at the dark stretch of evergreens. “It feels wrong just cutting branches off those trees.”
Mabel shrugged. “Well, technically those belong to Leo, so I doubt he’d fuss. Or we could stop by Brice’s tree farm—he’s got gorgeous boughs for garland. But maybe you should ask Leo. You were planning to talk to him about the festival routes anyway, weren’t you?”
Jade looked at her aunt suspiciously. “You’re not trying to play matchmaker, are you?”
“Me? Absolutely not.” Mabel’s expression was the picture of innocence. “I’m just being practical. Two birds, one stone, and all that.”
Despite everything, Jade found herself smiling. “Right. Practical.”
She walked to the kitchen and pulled out her notepad—the one where she’d already mapped out tentative routes and stops for the Tree Lighting festivities.
She flipped through pages of careful planning: potential sleigh paths, cocoa station locations, timing estimates.
Below her route sketches, she added, “Get pine garland - ask Leo about best branches.”
With only six days left until the Tree Lighting ceremony, there was no time to waste. She needed Leo’s input on which routes were actually feasible for the reindeer, how many passengers the sleighs could safely carry, and a dozen other logistics that required his expertise.
Time to pay Leo a visit.