Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
The next morning dawned crisp and clear, with the kind of bright winter light that made everything look like a snow globe come to life.
Jade woke early, energized by the previous day's success and eager to tackle the growing list of orders that had been trickling in since word spread about their improved baking.
The morning flew by in a blur of mixing, kneading, and decorating.
Mrs. Henderson had ordered two dozen sugar cookies for her book club, shaped like winter mittens and decorated with delicate blue and white icing.
The high school's drama department wanted three dozen cupcakes for their cast party, and Mayor Clark phoned in to request five dozen Christmas tree cookies for the town hall's holiday reception.
By afternoon, at least two dozen customers had come and gone and Ida Hartwell and Ruth Morrison were standing in front of the pastry case slowly working their way through the difficult decision of which pastries to select for their daily treat.
Ida held a peppermint stick between her fingers like a tiny sword, gesturing at the display case while Ruth peered through her wire-rimmed glasses at the options.
"The lemon bars look exceptional today," Ruth was saying, "but those chocolate eclairs are calling my name."
"Get both," Ida replied pragmatically. "Life's too short to make hard choices about dessert."
"We're going to need more flour," Mabel announced, wiping her hands on her apron as she surveyed their depleted supplies. "And more butter. At this rate, we'll be sold out by Friday."
"That's a good problem to have," Jade replied, carefully piping snowflake patterns onto the mitten cookies. She paused to admire her work—the new oven's consistent temperature meant every cookie was perfectly golden, and her decorating skills were improving with each batch.
The bell above the door chimed, and Jade looked up with a smile, expecting another customer. Instead, she found herself face-to-face with Cecily Glick, whose expression was considerably grimmer than it had been during her previous visit.
"Miss Bennett," Cecily said, her voice carrying the particular chill that could freeze hot coffee mid-sip. "We need to talk."
Behind her stood a man Jade didn't recognize—middle-aged, wearing a navy blue jacket with an official-looking badge. Her stomach immediately dropped.
"This is Inspector Morrison from the county building department," Cecily announced with obvious satisfaction. "It has come to my attention that this establishment has been conducting electrical work without proper permits or licensed supervision."
Jade's hands stilled on the piping bag. "I beg your pardon?"
"The display case lighting," Cecily continued, her gray eyes sharp with triumph. "Witness accounts indicate that significant electrical modifications were made to this building without proper authorization. Such work requires permits, inspections, and certification by a licensed electrician."
Inspector Morrison stepped forward, pulling out a clipboard and pen. "Ma'am, I'll need to see documentation for any electrical work performed in the last thirty days. Permits, contractor licenses, inspection certificates."
"I..." Jade's mind raced. The lighting repair had been such a simple fix in her mind—replacing old fluorescent tubes with new LED panels. She'd never considered that it might require official paperwork.
"There was no major electrical work," she said carefully. "We just replaced some light fixtures."
"Replacing commercial electrical fixtures without proper permits is a serious violation," Inspector Morrison said, his tone matter-of-fact rather than accusatory. "It's a safety issue. Improper wiring can cause fires, electrocution, even building damage."
Cecily's smile was sharp enough to cut glass. "I'm afraid the penalties for such violations are quite severe. Immediate closure until all work is properly inspected and certified."
"Closure?" Jade felt the blood drain from her face. "You can't close the bakery. We have orders to fill, the Tree Lighting ceremony is in five days—"
"Safety regulations don't observe holidays," Cecily replied with false sympathy. "Though I suppose this could have been avoided if proper procedures had been followed in the first place."
Mabel had been listening to this exchange with growing alarm, her face pale beneath her flour-dusted apron. "Surely there's some way to work this out? The lighting works perfectly. There haven't been any problems."
"The issue isn't whether it works," Inspector Morrison explained gently. "It's whether it was installed to code. Without proper inspection, we can't guarantee public safety."
Jade felt the walls closing in around her. All their progress—the increased sales, the festival preparations, the hope that had been building over the past few days—all of it threatened by a bureaucratic requirement she hadn't even known existed.
The bell above the door chimed again, and Mayor Clark Whitcomb burst in with his usual dramatic flair. "Jade! Mabel! Just the people I wanted to—" He stopped short, taking in the grim faces and official clipboard. "What's going on here?"
"Official business," Cecily said smoothly. "Building code violations that require immediate attention."
Mayor Clark's jovial expression faded as he processed the situation. His eyes moved from the inspector to Cecily to Jade's stricken face, and Jade could practically see him calculating the implications.
Ida and Ruth stood at the pastry case, pretending to focus on their selections while clearly listening to every word of the unfolding drama.
"Inspector Morrison," the mayor said carefully. "What exactly are we dealing with here?"
"Unpermitted electrical work," the inspector replied. "Standard procedure is immediate closure until proper inspections can be completed and any violations corrected."
"I see." Mayor Clark was quiet for a moment, his politician’s brain clearly working overtime. "And how long would such a process typically take?"
"Depends on the scope of the work and the inspector’s schedule. Could be anywhere from a few days to a couple weeks."
Jade’s heart sank. A couple of weeks would take them well past the Tree Lighting ceremony, past any chance of salvaging the bakery’s reputation or finances.
"However," Mayor Clark said, shifting into the persuasive tone that had won him three consecutive elections, "perhaps there’s room for a temporary arrangement."
Cecily’s eyes narrowed. "And what exactly would that entail?"
"As you know, the Tree Lighting ceremony is this weekend,” Clark said smoothly. "It’s our biggest tourist event of the year. Sugar Pine Sweets is central to the festivities. Closing them now would damage not only their business, but the town’s reputation."
The inspector shifted. "I understand the timing is inconvenient, but safety regulations—"
"Are not negotiable," Cecily snapped. Then she lifted her chin.
"Still… given the event, I might be willing to agree to a reprieve. But only on the condition that a full plan for repairs and compliance is submitted to the committee at Monday’s town meeting.
If the plan is satisfactory, operations may continue while the work is carried out.
If not—" she let the pause stretch, savoring it, "immediate shut down. No excuses, no delays."
Morrison hesitated, then nodded slowly. "That would be acceptable, provided there are no immediate hazards."
Jade’s throat tightened. "We’ll have a plan ready," she said quickly, though she had no idea where to even start.
Cecily’s thin smile deepened. "Good. Because I’ll be presenting my report at that same meeting. I’ll make certain the committee understands exactly what’s at stake. You’d better be prepared to prove this place isn’t a danger—or your little bakery closes for good."
Her gaze flicked toward the windows, where the fresh pine garland draped in neat green swoops. "At least you’ve managed compliance with the décor. That’s… refreshing."
She turned toward the door, her words cutting like frost. "Enjoy the weekend, Mrs. Bennett. Monday will decide your fate."
The door closed with a sharp click, leaving the bakery in tense silence.
Ida snapped her peppermint stick in half with surgical precision, her sharp eyes following Cecily's retreat through the window. "Well, I never," she muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Ruth looked up from her treats, her gentle face creased with concern. "Poor dear," she said, glancing at Jade with genuine sympathy. "Don't you let that woman get under your skin."
"That's easy for you to say," Jade replied, slumping against the counter. "She's got the power to shut us down."
"Temporarily," Ida corrected, her voice carrying the authority of someone who'd witnessed decades of small-town drama. "Cecily's always been one for throwing her weight around, especially when it comes to this bakery."
"What do you mean?" Jade asked, moving closer to their table.
Ida and Ruth exchanged a meaningful look—the kind that passed between old friends who'd shared seventy years of secrets and gossip.
"Your great-grandmother had the same troubles with Cecily's great-grandmother," Ruth said gently, setting down her pastry. "Constance Glick made poor Eleanor's life miserable for years."
"But why?" Jade pressed. "What did she have against a bakery?"
Ida's eyes glinted with old knowledge, but her expression grew cautious. "Well, that's a story with more layers than one of Mabel's cakes, isn't it, Ruth?"
Ruth nodded slowly. "There were... complications. Old wounds that never properly healed. Your great-grandmother was a wonderful woman, dear, but she carried some heavy burdens."
"What kind of burdens?" Jade asked, sensing there was more to the story.
The two elderly women exchanged another look, this one more weighted with unspoken history.
"That's not really our story to tell," Ida said finally, though her tone suggested she was bursting to share more. "But I will say this—Cecily learned her grudge-holding from an expert. Sometimes old hurts get passed down like family recipes, whether they should or not."
"The important thing," Ruth added softly, "is that your great-grandmother never let Constance's harassment stop her from serving this community. This bakery weathered those storms, and it'll weather this one too."
Alone with Mabel, Jade finally allowed herself to feel the full weight of the morning's stress. They had five days to pull off the Tree Lighting festivities, and then they'd face an inspection that could shut them down permanently.
"Maybe I should have stayed in Boston," she said quietly.
"Nonsense," Mabel replied firmly. "Your great-grandmother faced down Constance Glick for thirty years and never backed down once. You've got Bennett blood in your veins—that means you don't quit when things get difficult."
Jade looked around the bakery—at the gleaming display case, the warm light from the repaired fixtures, the evidence of their hard work and growing success. Cecily might have the power to make their lives difficult, but she didn't have the power to erase what they'd built.
"You're right," Jade said, picking up her piping bag with renewed determination. "We've got cookies to finish and a festival to prepare for. Monday can take care of itself."
Outside, the December afternoon was bright and cold, with the kind of crisp air that made everything seem possible. Tonight, they'd test their festival route with Leo and the reindeer. Sunday, they'd show the whole town what Sugar Pine Sweets was capable of.
Whatever Monday brought, they'd face it then.