“Bennett, this is a bakery.” Where does he think I store a flashlight?
“Flour,” he uses the nickname he bestowed upon me the day he caught me falling from a chair while setting up the front room. My insides twist into a little knot. It’s such a ridiculous nickname and such a silly story—the whole flour versus flower thing—but it’s ours and for that reason alone I love it. “This is northern Maine. What will you do when the power goes out if you don’t have a flashlight?”
“The power goes out?” I shrug. “I have candles upstairs.”
“Are they scented?” Bennett asks. “Because scented candles don’t count.”
“I have some vanilla ones. That barely counts.” Katy reaches out to grab a stack of money but I slap her hand. We shouldn’t touch the evidence when Bennett is around.
“Yeah, I agree. Vanilla doesn’t count,” Tabitha weighs in.
“I don’t actually know if they’re vanilla or not.” I’ve never been a huge fan of vanilla and normally opt for tropical smells. Not that I plan to admit those facts at this particular time. “But I can run upstairs and check.”
“Ladies!” Bennett yells, his harsh voice quieting the room. “Tabitha, do you have your cell phone on you?”
“Of course I do. Like Ridge will let me go anywhere without a cell phone.” She rolls her eyes while pulling it out from her back pocket.
Cut off from the rest of town and close to the ocean, the main part of Pelican Bay doesn’t have great cell service. Most carriers give you zero bars, but if you know where to shop and have the right equipment, you can find a phone with at least a somewhat reliable signal.
“Call Ridge and let him know we have a minor situation down at the bakery but make sure he’s aware you are fine first.” Bennett lays the new stacks of bills he pulled from the wall next to the original pile and starts fanning the edges of the money while mumbling about a crazy protective ass.
“Who wanted a cupcake?” I ask Tabitha.
Bennett is in control of the money situation and it’s time I went back to running my bakery. It’s also a helpful tactic so I don’t lose my cool and start crying like the ball of nerves I am.
Tabitha doesn’t possess the same urgency in fulfilling the customer’s order. “Oh nobody. I wanted to eat a cupcake.” She doesn’t turn around when answering.
“Go out and flip over the sign to closed,” Bennett says, stacking the money in a completely new but very similar shape to what we had it in before.
“Um, hello.” Finally the three of them stand up from their hunched over positions eyeing the money and give me attention. “This is my business. How I pay my bills and buy food to eat. I can’t close the bakery randomly.”
Bennett turns completely and crosses his arms over his chest. “You found at least a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in your wall. A few cookie sales are not your biggest concern.”
“Excuse me?” My cookie sales are pretty damn important to my stomach. “Are you going to let me keep any of the hidden money?”
“No, of course not. Nobody hides money in a wall for a good reason. Someone will be back for this.”
“Then, yes, selling a few cookies is my biggest concern. This,” I point to the money, “is your problem. Everything that happens outside these doors is my problem.”
Bennett tilts his head in that cocky way of his. “This is the way you plan to play the situation?”
His question makes me pause. Is it? “Yes.” What else am I supposed to do?
It’s obvious Bennett and I are about to enter a standoff. I’m focused and getting ready to do my best hip pop followed by a slight stomp when the bell attached to my entry door jingles. I lick my lips and give Bennett a look letting him know that this isn’t over.
But I guess it is because before I make a full turn and head out to the front of the store, Ridge barrels through the kitchen. His long-sleeve black polo shirt with the Pelican Bay Security logo on the left side is identical to the one Bennett wears. It’s the standard uniform for the top two men at Ridge’s security firm.
“What have you gotten yourself into now?” Ridge asks, stopping a few feet from Tabitha and running his eyes up and down her body checking for scrapes or bullet holes. When it comes the Tabitha you never really know.
She throws her hands up. “Me?”
Ridge turns his attention to Katy. “Did Katy do this?”
“That hurts,” Katy acts affronted. “I’ll have you know this is all Anessa’s fault.”
“Me?” Okay, she has a point. It could all be my fault.
Actually, it probably is.
