Chapter 19
The smell of cinnamon and browned butter greeted Julie long before she walked through the doors of the Welcome Center.
She stood just inside the entrance and took it in.
Long folding tables ran the length of the main hall in a loose horseshoe, draped in mismatched tablecloths.
Some were checked, some plain, and one had a pattern of small cartoon dogs that could only have come from Mabel’s general store.
Every table held something different: stacked cakes under glass domes, paper bags twisted at the top, pyramids of cookies dusted in powdered sugar, and loaves of bread arranged across parchment-lined trays.
Across the room, the animal shelter had claimed its table. Three dogs on leads were stationed beside it, doing a great deal of the fundraising work without seeming to know it.
Julie shifted her tray and moved toward the table she was sharing with her friends.
Beth and Laurel were already there, unpacking the food they’d brought with them.
“There you are,” Beth said. She was wearing the apron Susan had ordered for the occasion. “We moved the table to beside the entryway for extra exposure. Rachel thought it might inspire people to join our class.”
The table between them held tiered shortbread, a chocolate layer cake with a paper flag on the top, and a handwritten note on a chalkboard that read: Welcome Center Baking Class: Mix it, Bake it, Love it!
“That was Maria’s idea,” Laurel said, noticing as Julie read the board. “Someone has already suggested we create a website and add our recipes to it.”
Julie set her tray down. “That’s a great idea. We could talk about it at our next class.” She’d made two dozen ginger bars that morning, following Susan’s recipe from memory for the first time without checking her notes. The bars were spicier than Susan’s recipe, but just as delicious.
Susan arrived from the direction of the kitchen carrying a tray of chocolate ganache ramekins, and placed them between the shortbread and the cake.
“Pastor John is impressed with how many people have come to the bake sale. We should raise more than enough money for a new commercial oven.”
Julie looked around the room. “Everyone looks as though they’re enjoying themselves.”
Susan nodded. “The local radio station has been interviewing the people who are here. It’s created quite a stir.” She checked her watch. “Our first demonstration is in forty minutes. Rachel and Maria are in the kitchen getting the dough ready for the brioche rolls.”
“Are you still doing the glaze, Beth?” Julie said.
“I am. I’ve chosen lemon and honey.” Beth pressed her palms together. “I’ve practiced it four times over the last couple of days.”
“You don’t need to practice anymore. It’ll be great.” Susan straightened the chalkboard and moved back toward the kitchen.
By half past ten the hall was full. Pastor John’s catering students had drawn their own crowd around a variety of savory goodies.
The high school table had a slightly crooked banner, matching aprons, and homemade candy.
The elementary school contributed wildlife-shaped cookies, and the misshapen elk and lopsided bears were more appealing for it.
And the Starlight Café had already sold out of most of its treats.
Twenty minutes later, Julie was glad they’d made extra food.
Everything was selling fast. She was explaining to an older gentleman that yes, the ginger bars contained real ginger, when a small stir from the demonstration area drew her eye.
Susan had taken her place behind the demonstration counter with Beth beside her, and a dozen people waiting eagerly to see what they would do.
Susan’s voice carried easily across the chatter.
“Brioche is one of those doughs that rewards patience. We’re going to show you what it looks like at each stage, so you know what you’re aiming for.
” She held up a small ball of dough between her palms, slow and deliberate.
“The texture should feel like this—soft enough to push back, firm enough to hold its shape.”
A woman in the front row leaned forward. Several people had their phones out.
Susan and Beth moved effortlessly through the demonstration. They showed everyone how to make Brioche rolls without fuss, and without making anyone feel as though they couldn’t do it.
The main doors beside Julie opened and cold air announced five new arrivals.
Noah came first, holding the door and steering a boy of about seven ahead of him. Behind them, Cassie entered with a small girl of about four in tow. Cole came last, carrying a canvas tote bag.
The girl saw the animal shelter’s table immediately.
“Mama.” She stopped walking. “Dogs.”
Cassie nodded. “I see them.”
“Can we—”
“Yes. Go with your brother.”
The children hurried across the room. Cassie followed, pausing just long enough to catch Julie’s eye with a smile.
Noah stopped beside the baking class’s table with his hands in his jacket pockets. “Mabel told me you made ginger bars, Julie. They’re my favorite.”
“It’s good that we’ve got plenty of free samples, then. Help yourself.” Julie pushed the tray toward him.
Noah ate one and sighed. “Delicious.”
Cole set his tote bag down and looked at the table, then at Julie. “Would you mind if I have one?”
She shook her head. “Help yourself. If you want to know how to make them, I’m baking them at the demonstration table in half an hour.”
Cole picked one up and tasted it. A slow smile appeared on his face. “These are good. Really good,” he said.
Laurel appeared at Julie’s elbow and introduced herself to Cole. Before he could move away, she sold him four ginger bars and a slice of cake.
Cole grinned at Julie. “If I stay here for too long, I’ll end up buying everything you’ve baked.”
Julie laughed. “It’s just as well you weren’t here earlier. If you’d tasted Laurel’s shortbread, there’d be no room left in your bag.”
They stood on either side of the table, talking easily, without filling every gap.
On the far side of the room, the demonstration had moved on.
Beth was shaping rolls at speed, her hands folding and tucking with the rhythm of someone who had done it enough times that it no longer required thought.
A second wave of visitors had gathered in the chairs.
“They’re good,” Cole said as he watched them.
“They’ve worked hard to make sure everyone gets something out of the demonstration.”
A ripple of laughter came from the audience. Someone in the audience had attempted to shape their own piece of dough and made a reasonable mess of it. Susan’s response was patient and warm.
Cassie and Noah’s daughter came back. She stepped between the adults and reached for the tray of ginger bars.
Her brother appeared behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. “You have to ask.”
The little girl turned to Julie. “Can I have one, please?”
“Of course.” Julie handed her one, then looked at Cassie and Noah’s son. “You can have one, too.”
He accepted it with more restraint than his sister but ate it in two bites. “It’s yummy. Thank you.”
Cole crouched to the girl’s level. “Ellie. Did you say thank you?”
Her eyes widened. “I forgot.” With a dimpled grin, she turned to Julie. “Thank you. Are you Mr. Morrison’s girlfriend?”
Noah sighed. “Ignore, Ellie’s question, Julie. She asks everyone the same thing.”
Julie felt a blush heat her cheeks. Ellie was four, maybe five, with powdered sugar on the front of her jacket, waiting with complete sincerity.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind answering,” Julie said. “I’m Mr. Morrison’s friend, Ellie.”
Ellie looked at Cole. “Why are you friends?”
Cole glanced at Julie. “Because Julie is kind, funny, and tells me lots of interesting stories.”
“Like daddy,” Ellie said. “He tells us great bedtime stories. My favorite is the Princess and the Pea, except I’m not allowed to put peas in my bed.”
Cole grinned. He could imagine Ellie trying her hardest to smuggle a pea off her dinner plate and into her room.
“Could I have another ginger bar please?” Ellie asked.
Noah reached into his pocket. “I’ll buy four and you can have one of those.”
Laurel wrapped their purchases and Noah took his children to another table.
Julie picked up a bag. “I’m giving you the last two ginger bars because of all the nice things you said about me. If you want more, I can make you some.”
Cole grinned. “I shouldn’t take them, but I will. Noah will thank me when I bring them to our next meeting. But I’m paying for them.”
Julie opened her mouth to tell him he didn’t need to.
“I insist,” Cole said quickly. “It’s for a good cause.”
“Okay,” Julie said slowly. “But make sure you save some of your money for the other tables. There’s lots of delicious food here.” She handed Cole the wrapped bars. “I’ll see you Tuesday. Do you think you’ll have the survey report by then?”
“I should have. Enjoy the rest of the day.”
Cole moved toward Noah, and Julie turned back to the table. A few minutes later she glanced up. Cole was talking to Noah, but he’d positioned himself so he could still see her across the room.
He smiled and didn’t look away.
With a sigh, Julie straightened the chalkboard and helped another customer. Over the last few weeks, she’d gotten used to Cole making her feel slightly off center, and she wasn’t sure what to do about it.