"I'm at the bookstore tomorrow," I said, "unless that's too soon."
"Oh no, I could have used her today," said Jenna.
"I don't have much experience with cooking or baking," said Holly. "I do sometimes help my grandparents make dinner."
"No experience necessary," said Jenna, who was boxing up the baked goods that we had not eaten. "I can train you. As long as you can follow basic directions, you'll be perfect."
"Well then, I would love to," said Holly. "Thank you so much."
Jenna put two boxes of baked goods into our hands before we walked to the front door together. She held the third box up. "I'm going to drop these off at Paige's on my way home. If you think these are good, I want her to try them. Maybe they will work for her retreat that's coming up this weekend." Jenna looked over at Holly. "I can definitely use your help getting ready for that."
"Absolutely. I'd be happy to help you with anything. I love being with my Aunt Elyse and my Uncle Drew, but I also like to be busy," she said. "It helps to keep my mind occupied."
"I bet it does," said Jenna.
After giving Holly a quick side hug, she wrapped me up in her arms.
"It was great to see you tonight," she said. "Thank you forbringing Holly and for letting her come work with me. I honestly can use the help."
"It's my pleasure," I said, "on both accounts. And thanks for these," I said, raising up my box of pastries. "You can bet they will be gone before I turn off my nightlight tonight."
"I think Paige is going to love them," agreed Holly.
"I hope so. Ok then, I'm out of here," said Jenna as she locked the door behind us. "I will be getting in at about six, but whenever you get here will be great. See you tomorrow morning, Holly."
"I can't wait," she said.
And from the sparkle in her eyes, I knew she meant it.
12
HOLLY
The bakery smelled like heaven—butter and sugar and vanilla all mingling together in a way that made my stomach growl even though I'd eaten breakfast less than an hour before. Jenna's bakery was decorated in purple and yellow daisies
Oh. I get it. The Flour Shoppe.
and her back kitchen was enormous and spotless, all stainless steel and white subway tile. Three huge industrial ovens and a brick pizza oven spanned one entire wall. I made a mental note to ask Aunt Elyse about the pizza oven later.
"You can hang your bag there," Jenna said, pointing to a row of purple daisy-shaped hooks near the door. "And there's an apron for you on that shelf."
I grabbed the apron—crisp white with "The Flour Shoppe" embroidered in purple across the front—and tied it around my waist, suddenly feeling like an imposter. What did I know about baking? My culinary expertise extended to microwaved mac and cheese and sometimes grilled cheese on the days when my mom was home. Or awake. Grilled cheese was her favorite.
"So, what do you want me to do?" I asked, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Wash dishes? Sweep the floor?"
Jenna smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Eventually, yes, everyone does those things. But today, I thought you might like to learn how to make croissants."
My eyebrows shot up. "Croissants? Aren't those, like, super complicated?"
"They take time and patience," she corrected, pulling a large block of butter from the industrial refrigerator. "But the actual technique isn't as hard as people think. And once you master croissants, so many other pastries become easy. Basically, we will be working backwards in order of difficulty." She winked at me as she walked past.
She led me to a workstation where a large piece of dough was resting under a damp cloth.
"This is the basic dough I made earlier this morning," she explained, uncovering it. "The magic happens when we add the butter."
For the next hour, Jenna walked me through the process of creating what she called a "butter lamination" which I learned was basically folding a giant slab of butter into the dough, then rolling and folding it repeatedly to create paper-thin layers. It was methodical work, almost meditative. I got lost in my thoughts, wondering where my mom was and hoping she was alright. That was a common worry of mine, but one I'd somewhat grown used to. Sometimes I couldn't believe that Aunt Elyse and my mom were related, let alone sisters.
Jenna's voice broke into my thoughts. "Now we need to let it rest in the refrigerator," she said after our final fold. "The butter needs to stay cold but pliable."
