Chapter 31
Ryan’s family wasn’t at dinner at Mom and Dad’s on Sunday.
The four of us tried to act normal, but the quiet moments told the real story.
The adrenaline and frustration from the barn dance had worn off, leaving me sitting with two irreconcilable truths I’d tried so hard to avoid: I was in love with James, and it was hurting my brother.
I missed Mia.
No one brought up the elephant in the room until Dad walked me out to my car after dessert.
“You sure about this, Sadie?” There was a deep furrow in his brow.
He didn’t have to specify what he was referring to.
“I am,” I said, holding his gaze. “I know it probably seems crazy and even heartless, but…” I blew out a breath, frustrated again at how limited I was without the truth. “James is the best man I know.”
“Excluding me,” he said.
I smiled. “That goes without saying.”
He gave me a side hug, then let out a small sigh.
“Give him a chance, Dad,” I pleaded. “For me?”
He faced me, searching my gaze for a few seconds.
Maybe that request was unfair. It was almost like asking him to put me above Ryan. But I couldn’t help thinking that if Dad gave James a chance, he’d see what I saw. And if he warmed up to James, maybe—just maybe—Ryan would reconsider.
Dad nodded. “For you.”
I went up on my toes and kissed him on the cheek.
Monday, I had the morning shift at the bakery.
I stifled a sigh as I turned on the lights. The festival had been a departure from the normal, and it was weird coming back like nothing had happened.
May’s phone, which was listed on the farm’s product packaging, had been blowing up with requests of businesses wanting to stock our goods.
Upstairs in my apartment, I had a giant wad of cash I needed to take to the bank—evidence of all the people who’d been willing to pay for my creations, which was why I was hesitant to turn it over to the teller, who would transform it into digital money that felt less real.
“Yoohoo!”
I went still, my hands covered with dough. I peeked my head out of the kitchen and watched Morgan set down her purse on the counter. She wasn’t scheduled for another three hours.
She looked up and smiled at me. “How’s it going back there?”
“Good,” I said. “Just getting another batch of sticky buns going. I assume they’ve been selling out?”
“Yeah,” she said, coming over and leaning against the door jamb. “Though, we’ve had more than a few people come in asking for Sadie’s famous s’more blondies.”
I clenched my teeth and got back into the dough. “Sorry. We tried to make it clear those were separate from the bakery. Does your mom hate it?”
She gave a grimacing smile. “Oh…you know. Mom’s got a lot of pride. It’s a little confusing for her to see your success, I think, and hard when it seems like it’s coming at a cost to the bakery.
My heart sank. “I never intended to—”
“I know.” She smiled and rested her hip against the counter as she watched me.
“Mom’s always felt a lot of pressure as a Keller.
I don’t know if you knew my Grandma Keller, but the woman was a piece of work.
She cast a really long shadow, and Mom’s always been trying to live up to what she feels is expected of someone worthy of her name and position.
So, when people come in here asking for your stuff, find out they can’t get it here, then leave empty-handed, it feels like failure. ”
My stomach swam. Mrs. Keller had given me a job when I was an angsty little teenager high on my success from baking a batch of snickerdoodles. Wade had eaten most of them, and I’d taken that as a sign I was the next Martha Stewart.
Mrs. Keller had given me the space, time, and technique I’d needed to develop actual skill. Sure, she hadn’t taken my suggestions for the bakery, but given what Morgan was saying, it made sense. She wasn’t just protecting the Keller brand; she was protecting herself.
“But,” Morgan continued, “she’ll be retiring after Christmas.”
My eyes widened. I hadn’t realized it would be so soon.
“I’ll be taking over, and there are a lot of changes I plan to make, so I wanted to give you a heads up.”
My entire body clenched.
Morgan liked me, but liking someone and keeping them on as an employee were two different things—especially when my little side hustle had apparently turned into a slap in the face to Keller’s Bakehouse.
“I’ll be managing the business side of things,” she said. “That’s my wheelhouse. But I’d love for you to run the real show—and hopefully bring your products under the Keller umbrella.” She smiled. “I think there’d be a riot if we didn’t offer those s’more maple blondies.”
I stared at her. At some point, I realized my mouth had slipped open, and I shut it.
“Needless to say—but I’m going to say it anyway—I respect Mom so much and everything she’s done here. But I don’t have the same Keller baggage she does. Grandma Keller’s shadow is nothing compared to some of the shadows I’ve hung out in during my time in Boston.”
“I bet,” I said, still trying to grasp what was being offered to me.
“Anyway, you’d have a lot more freedom than you have now.
I’ve watched you here, Sadie, and not only are you a hard worker, you have good taste.
Moving forward, I’d love for Keller to strike a better balance between tradition and trying new things.
I’m certainly not the person to lead that charge in the kitchen—you’ve seen my lack of talent—but I think you are right for it. ”
I couldn’t quite fathom what she was saying.
She wanted me—someone with zero Keller blood—to run Keller’s Bakehouse. Not just to run it. To innovate.
She smiled at my flabbergasted silence. “You’d be salaried and have good, though not amazing, benefits. I can safely promise you double what you’re currently earning. Think about it, okay?”
Like I had a choice. Of course I’d be thinking about it. It might be all I thought about.
Morgan would’ve been forgiven for rescinding the offer when, in my distraction, I let the sticky buns bake four minutes past their time.
Mrs. Keller would’ve had a fit. Morgan took it in stride.
Double my current salary?! Benefits?
I’d dreamed of co-pays instead of self-pays, fantasized over a retirement plan. And now it was an actual possibility.
With all her quirks and oddities, I loved Mrs. Keller and was so grateful to her. But working for Morgan would be more pleasant in so many ways, not least of which was because she respected me.
I loved the sugar shack, but the thought of making blondies and cookies and cream puffs in this commercial kitchen that was so familiar to me was a brand new fantasy of its own.
I started cleaning up fifteen minutes before my shift was over, the thoughts of a future at the bakehouse giving way to nerves. It was time to pick up Mia for our weekly babysitting, and I hadn’t seen Ryan or Lily since the barn dance.
My phone vibrated, so I finished wiping down the stove, then set the rag aside and grabbed my phone.
Lily
Hey, Sadie! Sorry for the late notice, but Mia’s not feeling great today, so I’m going to keep her home with me and watch her temperature
My chest tightened, and I reread the message.
It was credible enough. So why did I have a sneaking suspicion it was an excuse?
Maybe I was wrong, but that was the problem. I didn’t know, and the uncertainty killed me.
Throat thick, I typed out a response.
Sadie
Poor Mimi! I hope she feels better. I can bring by something that might make her feel better!
It was minutes before I got a response.
Lily
That’s so kind! I don’t want to spread anything she might have, though, so let’s maybe hold off
Sadie
Then I’ll see her next week!
The lack of response felt like an anvil on my chest.
I told myself it would be good to get some extra time for baking, but I barely believed it. I went upstairs to my apartment and sat down on my couch. And then I stared at the ceiling.
I should’ve been with Mia, laughing and playing and covering the floor of the library with books to choose from.
What if I’d unknowingly babysat her for the last time?
What if Ryan was so hurt by my betrayal of him that he no longer felt comfortable being around me—or letting his daughter be around me?
Wiping the tears from my face, I got up and forced myself to go to the farm. Baking would be good for me. Seeing James would be better.
But when I got to the farm, May informed me he was out with a tour group.
“Are you all right, darlin’?” she asked with a look of concern.
There went any thought I’d had of acting normal.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I said with a forced smile.
She narrowed her eyes at me.
“I’d better get started on this baking.” If she asked me any questions, I might burst into tears again.
Mercifully, she let me go.
At the sugar shack, I got to work, drowning out my problems in loud music, butter, flour, and irreversible damage to my ear drums. The perfect quadfecta.
Just when the light outside had started to shift from the impossibly warm sunset hues to the blues of twilight, the door to the evaporator room opened, signaling the arrival of the group for the final portion of their tour.
I hurried to turn down the music as the sound of James’s deep voice came from the other room.
When he peeked his head into the kitchen, there was surprise in his eyes at the sight of me, then confusion. “Hey, beautiful.” He glanced at the tray of blondies I’d just set out to cool. “I thought you were going to be with Mia.”
“Me too.”
He took a step into the room, but I put up a hand.
“I’m okay. We can talk about it after the tour is over.”
His gaze searched mine, then he nodded. “I told the group about you. They’d love to meet you, but I can tell them th—”
“No, it’s fine,” I said. “I could use a little pick-me-up.”
He lingered one more second, then disappeared. I could hear his voice but not his exact words until it drew close again. “Sadie is the brains behind the baked goods here, all made with Carver maple.” He appeared again in the doorway, and other heads popped up behind him, one by one.