“Well, what’re you going to do, shug?” Ruby said, interrupting her thoughts. “We might have to punt this one and invent a new Friday afternoon must-have.”
“I’m not surrendering yet.” Chloe rested her cheek against her hand and peered at Ruby, feeling more defeated than she cared to admit. “Let me think…keep working at it.”
“Don’t think too hard. Can’t have that pretty forehead of yours all wrinkled,” Ruby chuckled. “What would Sam say?”
Chloe gave her a look. Sam? “Why should he think anything about my forehead? He’s a friend, Ruby. No, he’s my boss.”
“Whatever.” Ruby waved off her comment and returned to the kitchen. Chloe was pretty sure Ruby didn’t even hear her answer. Selective hearing, that Ruby.
Chloe had learned a lot about her staff’s personalities this first full week—and fallen a little bit in love.
The staff ran like clockwork. Ruby, everyone’s mother, grandmother, or dear old aunt, manned the front counter five mornings a week. Robin, the little sister who dashed in late three afternoons a week but was so sweet and eager to please that Chloe forgave her each time. And she was a hard worker. Robin manned the shop after school, but she also opened Saturday mornings and again on Sunday afternoons after church for a few hours.
Chloe took Donna’s old time slot, arriving at three every morning to start the baking and opening the shop at six. Then there was Laura Kate, her assistant baker. Laura Kate closed up the two evenings Robin was off, and was in charge of the donuts and crullers, muffins and cookies, and simple decorating. She was also sweet, very focused, andveryunorganized. But oh, Chloe saw genius in her work.
In fact, she could hear LK humming right now all the way from the kitchen as she smoothed icing on a Styrofoam round for one of the display cakes Chloe planned to put in the front window. Her first job in Paris had been a small bakery with over-the-top window displays, and since they did a cracking business, Chloe wanted to try the technique here.
Hopefully the display would expand the special-order department. Birthday cakes. Wedding cakes. Cakes for any and all occasions.
Chloe sat back in her chair and gazed toward the small office window. March had arrived two days ago and the sunshine already seemed brighter. But wow, this cookie recipe deal exhausted her. She was a trained chef. Surely she could figure out a simple chocolate fudge cookie. But homegrown bakers like Donna were tricky—they had recipes and tricks from their great-great-great-grannies that no one could imagine. A super-secret homemade caramel sauce should be easy.
Think, think, think…
Chloe reached for her hair clip—the one with pearly beads that had become her trademark in Paris—and reclipped her hair to include a loose strand. Might as well get to work. Office stuff today. She picked up the stack of envelopes and fliers from the corner of her desk. The mail consisted of bills and a magazine that promised articles on the prettiest Middle Tennessee hiking trails and the best diners serving banana pancakes. She set the stack on top of Donna’s old leather scrapbook then nudged the computer mouse to wake up the machine.
Bob had managed to put all the accounting and ordering online in the last year, which made her job so much easier. But she found herself staring at the open accounting program. Besides the sideswipe of this cookie recipe, there was the issue of Sam Hardy. He’d popped in twice this week after therapy sessions at Dr. Morgan’s office. Ruby had served him a cruller and chocolate milk—for old time’s sake—as he chatted with the staff and customers. Before leaving, he’d stopped by the office and told Chloe she was doing a good job.
“Am I? It’s only been a week and I’ve not figured out this famous cookie recipe.”
“You’ll come up with something. What about a new chocolate chip cookie?”He’d shrugged as if it was no big deal. But it was a huge deal. Ofinsurrection proportions,if Ruby was to be believed. Which she probably wasn’t.“What about a chocolate cookie with bacon?”
“Oh sure, here’s your box of cookies and a defibrillator, sir. Come back and see us when you get out of the hospital.”
Sam’s laugh—she could hear it now. So smooth and clean with some sort of deep echo that made her want to press replay.
He also had a killer wink, which he employed a lot when he was teasing. Or flirting? Was he flirting with her? No. Definitely not. He was her boss. Yeah, of course, that was just him. The old playboy coming out. He’d winked at Ruby the other day and at Mrs. O’Shay. But she was a stunning eighty-something-year-old.
Anyway, Chloe, gather yourself and get to work.
Back at the computer, she reviewed the accounts. Sam and Rick gave her a generous budget for updates and supplies. Tuesday afternoon she’d hired Cole Danner’s company to strip the hardwood floors and replace the cracked vinyl benches out front. Cole promised to send a crew and get started next week.
The new sheet pans, muffin tins, and cake pans she’d ordered arrived yesterday. She and Ruby washed and stacked them on the shelves. There was a gorgeous vintage chandelier hanging in Roseanne’s Vintage shop she had her eye on. She wanted to hang it over the display case, but since it was a tiny bit over-budget, she planned to save for it.
Eyeing the cracked leather scrapbook peeking out from under the mail, she reached for it. Donna had insisted on leaving it, saying it was part of Haven’s history and should stay with the bakery. The first picture was a faded sepia, but she could see the pride on the man’s face as he pointed to the Haven’s sign over the door.Hiram Conway, 1929.Donna’s grandfather. A browned news article from theHearts BendTribunehad been glued to the opposite page.
It told how Hiram purchased the former feed store with the intention of opening a bakery. He had a gas oven shipped from Chicago. The Depression hit, bringing lean times, so Hiram sold bread at cost, or gave it away if the customer, a fellow citizen, didn’t have the change. When times got better, folks rewarded him with their loyalty, buying their weekly baked goods from Haven’s.
Chloe flipped the pages, leaning forward when she came upon a wedding picture of Bob and Donna. 1975. On the opposite page was anotherHearts BendTribunearticle. This one about Bob and Donna joining Hiram at Haven’s. Bob’s business mind expanded the bakery to deliveries around town—to Cooper’s Market, Ella’s Diner, the Hearts Bend Inn—and staked a claim at the Saturday Farmer’s Market.
Chloe loved Haven’s history and now she was a part of it. She would continue the history. The photobook even had blank pages where she would add her story.
Chloe’s phone chirped a reminder about Mom’s chemo appointment in the morning. She got up to tell Ruby she’d be out for a bit tomorrow.
As she walked by Laura Kate, Chloe picked a drooping piece of icing from her hair net. “Let me know when you’re done. I’ll come and show you some new decorating techniques.”
“Sure thing.” Laura Kate didn’t even look up. Just hovered over her work with the tip of her tongue resting on the corner of her mouth.
Chloe watched for a second. Yeah, once she got the recipes straightened out and the supply ordering streamlined, she was going to teach Laura Kate the theory behindmise en place, having everything at hand, measured and in its place. Then the ever-important CAYG—clean as you go. Only then would she move on to more advanced baking and frosting techniques. But LK had some skill. Chloe wanted to learn her technique for the flower design she iced onto a batch of cupcakes.
