Chapter 4
Ella
After returning to the bakery, the last cake of the day was in front of me—a monster-sized sheet cake, with white icing for three-year-olds to gouge with plastic spatulas at a birthday party.
I hunched over it, outlining the cartoonish blob of the Cookie Monster from Sesame Street, but my mind chewed on that awkward exchange at the drugstore.
The clink of pans and the gentle warmth of the ovens tamped down the aftershocks, but just barely.
Frank wandered in, arms folded like a disheartened soccer coach and peered over my shoulder. “Hell of a job, kid. How do you pipe a border like that with hands shaking worse than a Pentecostal at Sunday service?”
His attempt at humor sparked a genuine smile out of me. “Protein from all the leftover cake scraps. Staves off the tremors.”
He eyed my work with approval. “You’re wasted on us. You could be on one of those TV shows where the cakes look like actual dogs, or like, super realistic babies that you cut open and it’s cake inside.”
“No, I’d rather not have my face plastered on TV,” I said, wiping a bit of green icing on a rag. “Anyway, have you heard anything about Helen’s surgery yet?”
“Not yet,” Frank said, and for just a flicker, his face uncreased and went gentle. “Think she’s still out. I’ll call her husband in a few minutes. You want me to let you know?”
“Yeah,” I said. “She’ll want to know how I fared without her here today.”
He nodded. “You know you’re off tomorrow, right? Denise will be in at 6 am, so don’t let me catch you mopping or finishing orders. You’re not paid double for caring too much.”
“You don’t have to pay me at all to do any of this,” I grinned, and Frank started to protest, but he knew I was joking. Probably.
The rest of the day was a blur: wiping down every surface, answering three phone calls, each wanting to place a cake order.
By the time 3:15 rolled around, I was free to collect Nora from school.
She was already standing outside under the awning by the time I arrived, hatless, her hair electric with static and defiance.
I braced for the worst. “Did you punch anyone today?”
“No,” she said, then looked down. “Just kicked a little.”
“Progress,” I said, and she took my hand.
On the ride home, I tried to get out what had gone wrong in her day; it was mostly “the principal is boring,” and a quick tangent about how it was unfair to have “pizza day” if nobody could eat it. I nodded emphatically, the way I wished caregivers had when I was her age.
We were halfway up the drive when my phone started ringing. “Kane,” I said, reading the display.
Nora piped up, “Put him on speaker!”
I did, and Kane’s voice boomed out: “Evening! Did you guys eat yet?”
“No,” I said, flicking the turn signal as if it mattered on private gravel. “Still driving. Why?”
“Oh, Kori made enough lasagna to feed two small armies, and she wants company. Lana’s here too. You in?”
Nora was already chanting, “Yes! Yes!” in the back seat, so I relented. “Guess we’re in. Give me fifteen minutes. We need to stop off at the house and let Scout out to pee.”
“Bring him with you,” Kane offered. “He can play with Moosey.”
“He would love that, but he’s been feeling under the weather since last night.”
“Okay then, but don’t be too long, and don’t bring any dessert. Kori made a pie. The crust is so hard it could break a window, but I’ll eat it and be happy,” he said, before hanging up.
I rolled my eyes at Nora in the rearview. “At least she didn’t burn it.”
She let out a laugh—a bright, tinkling sound like wind chimes—at our inside joke about Kori’s legendary inability to bake anything without setting off smoke alarms. The sound caught me off guard; I hadn’t heard genuine joy from her since breakfast.
∞∞∞
Inside the main lodge, the noise was already at maximum volume.
Kori was in the kitchen, wielding a wooden spoon as a scepter, and Lana was pouring cheap wine into jelly glasses, while Kane sat on the couch with his boots up, arguing with the TV.
The warmth was nearly suffocating after the crisp freeze outdoors, and the air smelled of basil, scorched cheese, and family—an acquired taste, but I’d learned to crave it.
What I didn’t expect was to see Caleb—the apple fritter customer from this morning—perched awkwardly on the couch beside Jake. He’d traded his work clothes for a collared shirt that he tugged at like it might strangle him any second.
I froze. My hand was still wrapped around Nora’s coat sleeve, the static from her hair arcing up my wrist.
Kori spotted me and flashed a smile. “Our last guest!” She ran over, hugged me, and then bent down to Nora’s level. “You’re just in time for lasagna and salad. Are you hungry”?
Nora nodded, shrugged off her boots, and then followed Kori into the kitchen. I turned to see Jake staring, before he tried to cover it with a cough and a muttered, “Hi.”
“Hi,” I echoed, feeling awkward as our pharmacy meeting played in my mind. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Neither did I,” he said as I looked at Caleb. “That’s Caleb, my brother.”
“We’ve met.” The look that crossed Jake’s face was one of confusion. “He came into the bakery this morning,” I explained.
Kane called us all to the table, and as we squeezed around it, Lana poured us each a glass of the wine she’d chosen for its “notes of being under ten dollars.” The entire spread was enough to feed a minor-league hockey team.
For a beat, it was normal: Kori cutting huge, steaming slabs of lasagna, Kane heckling the salad’s lack of bacon, Nora narrating her day’s injustices. But as the adult conversation centered, the topic inevitably shifted.
Kane set his fork down. “So, Jake says there’s reason to believe the Moorheads are setting us up. That missing cattle thing isn’t just bad luck.”
“Who are the Moorheads and how do you know?” Nora asked, around a forkful of lasagna.
Jake looked everywhere but at me. “The Moorheads tried to poach our cattle again. Found two breaks in the fence this morning. They left a message, too.”
Kane frowned. “What kind?”
“Threat. Personal. They want me to back off, or they’ll do worse next time.”
Caleb groaned. “Small-town drama. Don’t let them rattle you.”
Lana snorted into her wineglass.
I watched as Caleb cleaned his plate with perfect military precision, then muttered something to Jake, who shook his head. Only now did I notice Caleb’s hand, bandaged in white gauze. There was a blood bloom coming through near the knuckle.
I started to ask about it, but Nora interrupted, tugging my sleeve. “Can I go play with Moosey?” she whispered, meaning Kane’s massive, half-wolf dog.
“Yes, but take the rest of your dinner with you and don’t let him eat it.”
She vanished into the living room with her plate, leaving behind a trail of cheese on the floor.
“Did you call the sheriff?” I said, turning back to Jake.
He shook his head. “Pointless. They’ll just say there’s no proof the Moorheads did it. It’s always a ‘neighbor dispute’ until someone ends up in a ditch.”
My mouth went dry. “Are you worried?”
He looked at me then, blue eyes sharp and exhausted. “No. But I think you should stay away from our property line for a few days. And if anyone comes around asking questions—”
“Say nothing,” Kane finished for him. “Business as usual.”
“Anyway,” said Kori, forcibly cheerful, “it’s not going to ruin our supper. Ella, help me get dessert?”
We retreated to the kitchen, where she started slicing the cheesecake with the dexterity of a surgeon. “You doing okay?” she asked.
“Sure,” I lied.
She gave me a look. “Caleb, —he’s been here twice now. Claims he’s visiting Jake for the first time in a long time, but something is off with him. I think there’s more to his story than that.”
I didn’t know what she expected me to do with that information. “He seemed normal this morning at the bakery. Weird, but … On second thought, he did ask a lot of questions.”
“About what?” she asked, placing a slice of cake on the awaiting saucers. “About what?”
“Me. He was asking a lot of questions about me.” A shiver ran up my spine, and I shook. “I’m sure he was just being friendly.”
“Maybe. Just keep your eyes open.”
The night settled into itself. At the table, Lana got loud about something on Twitter; Kane and Kori kept refilling everyone’s glasses until the sweetness of the wine started to coat my teeth. Jake and Caleb mostly sat in silence.
After dessert, I left Nora curled up with Moosey and a blanket on the couch, then wandered back to the kitchen to wash up.
When I came around the corner, Jake was already there, sleeves rolled up, hands in soapy water.
I stopped in the doorway, my breath caught in my chest. He didn’t look at me, just said, “Your kid’s tough. Reminds me of you.”
“She’s way better than I am,” I replied, and we stood there, the air heavy with the things we couldn’t say.
“Last week,” he began, then shook his head. Water dripped from his wrists onto the linoleum. “Never mind.”
When I didn’t move, he added quietly, “Keep Nora close to the house for the next couple of days. Don’t walk anywhere alone if you don’t have to.”
He turned, one hand still dripping suds, and said, “Almost forgot. That package I told you about at the pharmacy—I brought it with me.”