Chapter 11
TESSA
Monday mornings were my reset button. The bakery was closed, which meant I didn’t have to drag myself out of bed before sunrise.
I usually caught up on sleep and enjoyed my time off.
But the memory of Gage standing at Hale & Honey’s door with my mom’s scarf in his hand still tugged at the edges of my thoughts when I least expected it.
I’d kept myself busy over the past week reorganizing the stock room, but distraction was harder to come by this morning. Unfortunately, sleep was just as elusive.
Dragging myself out of bed, I padded into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee.
While it brewed, I grabbed my journal from the basket under the end table and curled up on the couch, wrapping Mom’s scarf around my shoulders.
The soft cashmere brushed my cheek, grounding me more than I wanted to admit.
I only wrote a few lines about the week ahead. Mostly, I just enjoyed the silence and let myself settle.
When the scent of coffee filled the air, I got up to fill a mug and make breakfast. Since I had extra free time today, I went all out and baked a quiche with ham and Swiss—in a flaky crust from scratch, of course.
While it was in the oven, I took a long shower, hauling out my spa basket and taking advantage of all the fun things inside to pamper myself.
By the time I headed out later that afternoon, I was in a great mood.
Locking my apartment door behind me, I was on autopilot as I walked down the hallway toward the stairwell.
I rarely used the elevator, but not because I was trying to get extra steps in.
It had the awful tendency of shuddering to a stop between floors.
I’d never gotten trapped inside, but the horror stories from my neighbors were enough for me to swear I’d never set foot in it again.
But I wasn’t expecting what waited for me in the lobby.
I hadn’t taken the elevator in years, so I almost walked past without noticing the gleaming doors. The brushed metal looked brand-new. No scratches or sticky fingerprints from the kids on the third floor. And no tape residue from the OUT OF ORDER notice that had practically lived there.
A repair tech stood beside it, wiping his hands on a rag.
I slowed to a stop. “Good afternoon.”
He glanced up. “Hey.”
I tilted my head toward the doors. “What happened to the elevator?”
“Whole system overhaul.”
My eyebrows shot up. “The entire thing?”
“Yep.” He jerked his chin at the closed doors. “New cab, new motors, new control panel—the works. The owner is sparing no expense.”
I blinked at him. “The same guy who’s owned the place for years?”
“It was the usual name on the invoice.” He tucked the rag into his pocket with a shrug. “Guess he came into some money. This stuff ain’t cheap.”
I stood there, staring at the elevator while he snapped his case shut and walked away.
Getting our landlord to fork over the money for a major repair was unheard of.
He was notorious for doing the bare minimum around here.
Suddenly investing in a full system replacement for the elevator was completely out of character for him.
Shaking off the niggle of suspicion in the back of my mind, I pressed the lobby door open and headed outside. I didn’t have time to wonder how much the repair had cost or why it was being done now. I had a baking class to get to.
My walk to the youth center only took five minutes. The bus had already dropped off the kids when I headed inside, and half a dozen voices called out at once as soon as they spotted me.
“Miss Tessa!”
“You’re here!”
“Can we make brownies today?”
Their excitement was the same as always, but something felt a little off. I couldn’t pinpoint it until I stepped into the tiny kitchen we used for baking classes and stumbled to a stop, my eyes widening.
The old laminate countertops were gone, replaced with granite.
Two gleaming convection ovens sat where the dented, mismatched ones had always been.
A stainless-steel spice rack held uniform jars instead of a jumble of discount-store shakers.
Stacks of brand-new mixing bowls and sheet pans sat on the open shelving.
Bags of ingredients lined the supply bins.
Even the peeling paint was gone. All the walls had been redone in a soft buttery yellow, the tone almost an exact match for the one I’d used at Hale & Honey.
And in the far window, an AC unit hummed quietly.
One of the fifth graders beamed up at me. “Miss Tessa, this place is better than Christmas!”
“The walls are the same color as your bakery, Miss Tessa!” her friend squealed.
I smiled at them. “It looks incredible.”
But that suspicion in the back of my mind wasn’t so small anymore. There had been two expensive upgrades in my life today. Telling myself that it was just a lucky coincidence, I focused on the kids.
“Okay, everyone. Let’s wash up and get started.”
They darted toward the sinks in a chaotic cluster, arguing gleefully over whether to make cookies or cupcakes.
I tried to let their enthusiasm pull me back into the moment, but my mind kept drifting.
Someone had spent more money on this small kitchen than the youth center usually saw in donations for the entire year.
A thread of unease tugged at me throughout the entire class. While the kids munched on freshly baked cupcakes, I wiped down the new counters and packed my things to leave.
The manager appeared in the doorway just as the kids were washing their hands again. She clapped her hands and called out, “Okay, crew. Another surprise is waiting for you in the gym. Let’s go.”
The kids bolted for the door, the older ones not even bothering to try playing it cool. In thirty seconds, the kitchen was empty except for Julia and me.
She shook her head with a grin. “They’re going to lose their minds when they see what’s in the gym.”
I swept my hand in a semi-circle. “Judging by this place, maybe a roller coaster?”
“Not quite.” She laughed, shaking her head. “But we could probably put a small one in if it wouldn’t be such a liability.”
“You’re joking, right?” I asked, my head drawing back in surprise.
“Yes, but only because that might be a step too far for our new donor.” Her gaze drifted over the gleaming appliances. “They were far too generous to risk scaring them off from supporting the center. I’ve never had someone tell us to order whatever was necessary.”
I gripped the edge of the counter to keep my hands steady. “That’s incredible.”
“It really is.” Her eyes softened with the kind of gratitude you couldn’t fake. “They basically wrote us a blank check, with only one small request.”
“What kind of request?”
“That we start with the kitchen.” She gestured at the upgrades. “No idea why, but they changed everything for us. Whoever they are.”
My breath caught. “The kitchen?”
“Yes,” she confirmed with a nod. “They wanted everything in here to be top of the line, and for the walls to be painted pale yellow. Simple enough requests, considering how much they donated.”
A mysterious benefactor had donated a fortune to the youth center where I’d been volunteering for the past five years. And they’d wanted them to start in the room where I spent all my time here and paint the walls the same color I’d used at Hale & Honey.
I swallowed hard. “Did they leave any other instructions?”
“Nope. Just a generic email to use if we need anything more in the future.” She shrugged, laughing softly.
“If they hadn’t sent over a cashier’s check, I would’ve thought it was a scam of some kind.
But our bank made the funds available to us immediately, and I was able to get someone to come out this weekend and redo everything in here. ”
Her answer only strengthened the suspicious voice in my head. “I’m glad you got what you needed. This place deserves all the support it can get.”
As she went to join the kids, I tried to tell myself that I was jumping to conclusions. Gage couldn’t be the anonymous donor. He had no reason to give money to the center. But I couldn’t shake the suspicion.
They only grew during my walk home. And even more on the ride up to my floor, now that the elevator was safe to use.
Inside my apartment, I dropped onto the couch, my mind buzzing with unanswered questions. Pulling out my phone, I tapped on my text thread with Gage and considered sending him a message.
I’d thought thanking him for returning my mom’s scarf would be the last time I ever reached out. I wasn't sure if I wanted to open that door again. But he was the only person who could tell me if he was behind the elevator repair and donation to the center.
I wasn’t sure which answer scared me more.