Chapter 12
A week had goneby and I still couldn’t decide if I wanted to accept the job at Maxwell’s bakery. So, I kept working at Doughy Desires, mastering recipes and perfecting intricate pastry designs.
I stood by the counter, idly flipping through the pages of my battered copy of Pride and Prejudice, while Bishop arranged the last batch of pastries in the display-case. Darcy and Elizabeth’s banter normally had me hooked, but the book in my hand might as well have been a prop for all the attention I was paying to it.
Was it anxiety over Bree’s conservatory tuition? Conflicted over Maxwell’s job offer? Or concern that the bakery was going under?
All the above.
As Bishop placed the final raspberry Danish on the shelf, I thought this might be a good time to confess my secret. I’d told him about Maxwell’s employment proposition and it hadn’t gone as bad as I’d feared. But telling him I’d never corrected his assumption that I was a professional baker could backfire completely.
The words sat on the tip of my tongue, but I held back. Admitting I lied was going to be a bitter pill to swallow. He would probably fire me and then I’d have to go work with Maxwell, which I really didn’t want to do.
There had to be a solution…
The afternoon light streamed through the windows, painting the bakery in a wash of gold. As the clock ticked on, Doughy Desires settled into its afternoon lull, leaving the bakery as quiet as a library on Sunday.
My gaze roamed over the scarred tables, each one bearing silent testimony to the years of coffee spills and frenzied butter knife mishaps. Chairs wobbled on uneven legs, the backs worn so thin you could trace the grain of the wood with a fingertip. The paint on the walls, once a bright yellow, had dulled to the shade of week-old vanilla frosting. Even the light fixtures carried a sepia tone, their bulbs giving off a dated glow.
A slow smile curved my lips. This place was begging for a makeover, which might bring in more business, and then I wouldn’t have to work for Maxwell.
Sounded like a win-win to me. Now I just had to convince my boss.
“Bishop.” I tapped my book against my floral dress-clad hip. “Have you ever thought about updating? Giving the bakery a much-needed facelift?”
He straightened, brushing a lock of dark-brown hair from his forehead. “What do you mean?”
“Look around.” I gestured to the empty bakery, surveying the scene. “You do a decent business in the morning, but by afternoon, it’s a graveyard for forgotten pastries. Could be time to modernize and do more marketing.”
He licked his lips, the crease beneath his bottom lip deepening. “What do you suggest?”
“Outdoor seating would be great.” I gestured out the front window. “People love to soak up the sun while sipping their coffee. Plus, we could add music, serve designer teas, and even offer delivery services. And—oh! New signage and branding, too.”
Bishop crossed his muscular arms. “Those are all good ideas, Kenzi, but big changes.”
My confidence bloomed like the flowers on my dress. “I know, but I’m good at marketing and design.”
His mouth formed a grimace twitch. “It sounds expensive and a lot of work. I don’t think so.”
“It won’t cost that much. My designs are free and everyone can pitch in and help, so no labor costs. I promise you, I won’t steer you wrong.”
He grunted. “Do you even understand the meaning of the word no?”
“Come on, it’s a bake or break situation. The world is changing, and we have to adapt if we want to keep up. Sometimes, taking a risk is the only way to survive. Sweet Sensations is taking your business and I want to get it back.” I leaned closer and lowered my voice. “And if business picks up, I can decline Maxwell’s job offer and you can give me a modest raise.”
His stare darkened as he studied me, making me want to struggle for purchase.
“You really believe these changes will make a difference?”
“Yes. The bakery needs more oomph and some rebranding to attract more customers.”
His staid expression remained and I swear that man’s muscles couldn’t form a smile if they tried.
“Let’s call a group meeting to discuss this. Lucia! Jordan!”
They walked out of the kitchen, and I ran into the backroom to grab my backpack, then rejoined the others.
We gathered around a table in the empty seating area. Bishop, with his perpetual scowl, towered above us. I casually placed my backpack on the floor beside my chair.
“As you all know, Maxwell’s rumors are hurting business,” Bishop said.
“Maxwell’s tactics may be devious, but they’re effective.” Lucia’s voice sounded full of scorn. “Our sales have suffered. We need to do something before this gets out of hand.”
Jordan inclined his head. “Yeah. We can’t let him tarnish our reputation.”
Bishop nodded. “All right, team. We need to come up with a plan to counter Maxwell’s lies. Kenzi thinks a bakery makeover and rebranding will help.”
I glanced at the others, who were deep in thought. “And we need a powerful marketing strategy.”
“Right,” Jordan said.
“We could do limited-time promotions,” Lucia suggested.
“Wait!” Jordan exclaimed. “What about edible menus?”
Lucia shook her head. “We’re a bakery, not Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.”
Bishop rubbed his temples. “We need practical solutions.”
“Like social media adverts,” I said.
Jordan bounced in his seat. “I bet I could create an Instagram-worthy scone.”
“I like that idea.” I retrieved my laptop from my backpack. “While you guys brainstorm ways to showcase our delectables, I’ll dive into the rebranding.”
“How do you know about this stuff?” Jordan asked.
“Because I’m more than just a pretty baker—I’m also an awesome graphic artist. I’ll start by getting our online presence sorted out. I’ve helped lots of businesses with this same thing,” I said.
Lucia arched an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Trust me, I’ve got this?—”
“Are you sure, young lady?” Her expression soured. “I mean, your baking skills have definitely gotten better, but there’s still room for improvement, and this is a different area of expertise.”
“Kenzi has proven herself time and again. I trust her completely,” Bishop said firmly.
Lucia clamped her mouth shut. Warmth bloomed in my chest at his steadfast faith in me.
“Not to worry.” I flashed my coworkers a confident smile. “Give me an hour, and I’ll have a kickbutt promotional plan for us. First, we’ll implement a targeted ad campaign to reach potential customers in Serenity Falls and the surrounding areas. We’ll advertise our unique flavors, our commitment to quality ingredients, and, of course, our legacy in town.”
“If it’ll boost our sales numbers, then go ahead.” Lucia gave me a begrudging nod. “Hopefully, you’re better at this than baking.”
While I got to work, the trio swiftly snatched up recipe books, scanning the pages for fresh additions to grace our menu. They settled at the table next to mine, as if poised for culinary inspiration.
Helping to rebrand Doughy Desires was my own subtle penance, a way of buttering up the universe—and Bishop—to forgive my tiny, itsy-bitsy deception.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard, itching to create graphics that would prove Maxwell wrong and save the bakery. I began by researching successful advertising tactics, scrolling through social media feeds and websites of popular bakeries.
As I clicked through images of mouthwatering pastries, clever slogans, and inspirational designed ads, I took notes on the most eye-catching designs and strategies, eager to combine them with the unique charm and history of Doughy Desires. My heart swelled with hometown pride as I read articles regarding the bakery’s founding, learning that it had been a staple in Serenity Falls for decades.
Bishop slid into the seat beside me. He glanced at my laptop screen, raising an eyebrow. “When you said you were a graphic artist, I thought you were joking. You sure you can do this?” he whispered.
I kept working on the new design. “Ah, Bishop, always so quick to judge.”
While I continued to immerse myself in the project, I stole glances at Bishop. He was deep in conversation with Lucia and Jordan, his brow furrowed.
A burst of creative energy surged through me as I incorporated elements of the bakery’s legacy into the website’s redesign. I even added a subtle nod to Bishop’s signature cupcakes and a swell of satisfaction struck me knowing I was helping to save the bakery.
“Okay, everyone,” I announced, pushing away from the table to show off my work. “Check out this marketing masterpiece.”
I selected the presentation file, but instead, a personal photo popped up on the screen with Mochi wearing oversized sunglasses, Bree holding a broom like a guitar, and me rocking a colander as a hat.
“Uh, that’s not it…” My ears burned as I frantically searched for the correct file. “Sorry. Technical difficulties.”
Finally locating the right folder, I clicked on the desired presentation. The group leaned in, their expressions shifting from skepticism to awe as they took in my designs, eliciting impressed gasps from everyone. A rush of pride built within me, and for the first time since joining Doughy Desires, I felt like I was contributing.
“Kenzi,” Bishop said, his voice soft and sincere, “this is incredible. And with your talent and our teamwork, Doughy Desires will rise again.”
“Ha, ha,” I said. “So, you do have a sense of humor.”
“On occasion.” He blew out a breath. “Okay, let’s do this, rebrand my bakery.”
“Yay!” I grinned. “You won’t regret it, Bishop.”
He rocked on his heels. “Let’s hope not.”
I opened my design software. “Now, we need a new logo that’s fresh and inviting.” I glanced up at Bishop, who stood beside me with crossed arms. “This will make the bakery standout from the competition.” My fingers flew across the keyboard. “A great logo can do wonders for branding and visibility.”
While I worked, colors, images, and shapes came together on the screen, forming a cute yet elegant design that encompassed the spirit of Bishop’s bakery. The new logo featured a stylized croissant intertwined with a heart, symbolizing the love and care put into each baked good.
“Ta-da!” I turned the laptop to face him. “What do you think?”
Bishop stared at the screen, then slowly nodded. “I must admit, Kenzi, I’m awestruck and touched. This could preserve my family’s legacy and honor my grandparents.”
I grinned, thrilled to have earned his praise. “I’m only getting started.”
He took a step closer to the table, inspecting the details of the logo. “I’ve should’ve updated sooner.”
“Yeah, you might’ve been baking with pride, and probably prejudice against change.” I patted his arm. “But you’re taking the leap now and these renovations are gonna totally transform the bakery and bring in more business.”
With Bishop on board, an intense sense of ambition and drive overcame me.
* * *
Over the next two weeks,the Doughy Desires team worked together with eagerness and determination, powered by the excitement of rebranding the bakery.
“Okay, folks.” I clapped my hands, gathering everyone’s attention one sunny afternoon. “Time to bring this place back to life!”
A few of our regular customers and Jordan tackled the exterior painting, their laughter ringing through the air as they playfully flicked paint at each other between brush strokes. The once-dull fa?ade took on a perky outlook as they covered it in mellow shades of cream and gold.
“Kenzi, look at these chairs I found at an estate sale for the outdoor seating.” Lucia gestured at a collection of wrought-iron tables and chairs that her husband was unloading from his truck. “Aren’t they perfect?”
I admired their elegant curves and intricate detailing. “They’re amazing.”
Next, Bishop and I collaborated on selecting a music playlist that would create a pleasant ambiance for customers—a blend of timeless classics that had us humming along.
Once the exterior painting and outdoor seating was finished, I found Lucia and Jordan experimenting with various brewing techniques and flavors behind the counter.
“Any suggestions for designer tea options?” I asked.
“We definitely need more unique blends.” Jordan’s face brightened. “And a lavender latte for our coffee drinkers.”
“Excellent.” I grinned, making a mental note to try it.
Turning around, I surveyed the interior that now had crisp white tablecloths, freshly painted walls, new wooden chairs, and updated cabinetry. It looked like a whole new bakery.
As we labored over each detail, I noticed a difference in Bishop. The man who had once been so resistant to change now seemed invigorated by it, frowning less often and collaborating with the rest of us with genuine enthusiasm.
Bishop walked out of the kitchen and stood next to me. “Kenzi, you were right. My bakery needed to be modernized. I really do like the updates.”
We walked outside and stood on the sidewalk to admire the new striped awning and wooden plaque above the front window.
I tilted my head, scrutinizing the bakery. “With my design talents and your mad baking skills, we could run this town.”
His lips twitched. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
I laughed. “Why not dream big?”
“You’re right. We would be unstoppable.”
“Ah, so I bring out the best in you?”
He folded his arms. “Without a doubt.”
I smirked, nudging his shoulder. “I’m flattered.”
“You did a good job, Kenzi. I might owe you a croissant,” he teased.
I tapped my chin. “Hmm, only one croissant? I think my adorableness and design skills are worth at least a whole bread basket.”
He looked at me and didn’t respond at first. Then Bishop reached out, his fingers tenderly tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, and making my heart skip a beat.
“I’ve handled hot ovens and fiery kitchens, but you, Kenzi? You light up the room in a way no flame can,” he said, his voice raspy and deep.
His cheesy flirtation made me wonder if,beneath that stoic exterior, Bishop held a soft spot for me.
“Every baker needs a spark. Lucky for you, I come with extra sizzle.”
He shook his head, a hint of amusement in his stare. A current of understanding and affection flowed between us, and the future of Doughy Desires had never looked sweeter.