Chapter 3
Chapter three
Aubrey
"We have a ghost," Candy declares dramatically.
I hum noncommittally and tap the flickering neon Sugarplum sign.
We're cleaning during the early afternoon lull.
Candy is working on everything behind the counter while I wipe down the few smaller tables by the front windows.
I'm distracted by the intermittent buzz from the sign.
Biting my lip, I contemplate whether the blinking looks more professional than an unlit sign.
"I'd leave it on if I were you," Candy says, reading my mind. "People will think we're closed if you don't, and we'll have a mutiny on our hands. Besides, it kind of gives the place a come-and-get-it vibe."
Spinning around, I gaze at the pastry cases, which are dwindling in inventory. "Yes. Let's hope they come and get everything before closing."
I stretch my arms over my head and grin. This is the first month when I have a good feel for the inventory and what to prepare for each day. My favorite part of a business is figuring out how it ticks.
When I opened Sugarplum, I’d been unemployed for months.
My bakery in the city was bought out by a chain, and I made a tiny profit.
Not a windfall, but enough that I could take my time figuring out my next move.
After a weekend girls’ trip, I fell in love with this space, which housed a former beloved bakery in Duhring Park that was closing after fifty years.
The town felt like coming home for the first time in my adult life, and I knew I could do something special this time.
My alarm sounds, and I glance at my watch.
"All right, I'm headed to Angelo's to deliver the tiramisu pies. Then I need to swing by Sara's house to drop off the anniversary cake she ordered." I take off my apron and hang it neatly on the hook. "I'll be back in about an hour or so."
"No." Candy puts her hands on her hips.
I sigh and prepare for her lecture.
"I'm supposed to handle everything from one until close. That was the whole point of hiring me. Share the load." She swats me with a pink towel.
I grin. "I'm a worker-bee. I need to keep busy, or I might shut down forever."
I wonder what a trained professional would do with that information. Probably prescribe me a vacation.
"I'll tell you what. You can come back this afternoon if you take Sunday off and get out of town until Tuesday." Candy turns to face me.
I narrow my eyes at her, wondering if she was a therapist in a former life.
"I can start the Wednesday inventory on Tuesday night, and you can come in at your usual time on Wednesday to finish everything up."
I consider her suggestion. The prospect of taking a few days off gives me a pit in my stomach.
Candy holds up a hand to stop me as I open my mouth to protest. "Aubrey, this place is amazing. But you need to have a life outside of Sugarplum. You eat, breathe, and sleep the bakery. I'll bet you spend your spare time watching baking shows and testing recipes."
"And your point?" I bristle, certainly not admitting that my plans for tonight involve developing a new spiced chocolate macaron recipe and binging the new season of the British baking show that should be boring but is more delightful than a pile of puppies.
"My point is that I want to work for you for the rest of my life," she says, her voice so gentle that my eyes prickle with tears. "I would hate to see you burn out and be miserable keeping this place going."
I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand and blow out a hard breath. "Fine."
Burnout was the reason I sold my last place. City life was not for me. Grueling hours and insane costs led me to feel like I was drowning most months. That’s not how Sugarplum is going, but I promised myself I’d find balance this time around, and Candy is right—I'm not doing a great job with that.
Candy gives me a big hug, and I let her hold me.
"All right, enough of this." She claps her hands in that no-nonsense way I love. "Get your deliveries made, and you can come back here this afternoon if you trust me to handle Sunday."
I shake my head but grab my keys and do exactly as she says.
What the hell am I going to do with myself?