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 behind mise 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.
Yeah, life was good at the bakery. Other than the missing cookie recipe. She hadn’t realized how much she needed this job until she started waking at two a.m. to go to work every day. It gave her purpose. Which she desperately needed.
“Ruby?” Chloe found her in the dining area chatting with the same four ladies who came into Haven’s on Friday afternoons for the famous and elusive cookies in addition to every Tuesday and Thursday morning at eight. The grand dame, Mrs. O’Shay, and her ladies in waiting. “I have to take Maman to her treatment tomorrow. I’ll leave at ten and be back before noon.”
“Darling, you take care of that mama of yours. I’ll be here holding down the fort.”
“Thank you.” And she meant it. Having a solid team made the load so much lighter.
“Chloe.”
She turned toward her name as Mrs. O’Shay stood. “I understand the TCFC recipe is missing.”
“It’s not missing so much as it never existed except in Donna’s head. Nothing I’ve tried seems to work.”
“Well, the annual O’Shay Shirts Employee Appreciation Day is next month, and the Triple Chocolate Fudge Cookie is tradition. And we love tradition at O’Shay Shirts. You must make them for us.”
Despite all efforts, Chloe’s cheer sank straight to her toes. “I’m doing my best to replicate it, Mrs. O’Shay.”
“We do appreciate it. You know, we give Haven’s a lot of business, well, all of our baked goods business.”
“Yes, ma’am, and it’s greatly appreciated.”
She didn’t say they’d take their business elsewhere, but Chloe heard the implication in her tone. Which made no sense. The new bakery that Mrs. O’Shay chose wouldn’t have the TCFC recipe either.
She’d just returned to her office when her phone buzzed with a text from Mom.
Mom: Don’t forget the appointment tomorrow.
Chloe: On my calendar.
Mom: Eleanor said she could take me if you’re busy.
Chloe: I’m not busy. I’m taking you.
When Mom said Chloe didn’t have to come home from Paris to help her, she wasn’t kidding. Mom’s friend Eleanor called last night to see if she needed a ride to the doctor.
“I’m not doing anything, and Chloe should be at work.”
But Chloe insisted she would take Mom. She wanted to know how they were treating her, how to take care of her at home. She’d done well with her two treatments so far, save for being tired and weak.
Chloe began cleaning out a desk drawer. It looked like Bob hadn’t purged his files in quite possibly forever. She pulled a stack onto her lap and looked through each folder before returning it to the drawer or tossing it in the trash.
Inventory May 1985. Trash.
Menus 1997. Keep. For the scrapbook if nothing else.
Donut Heaven. Trash. She didn’t need a glossy brochure from the coffee and donut mega chain extolling the virtues of owning a franchise.
After finishing the accounting tasks and cleaning out one file drawer, she headed back into the kitchen and reached for her chef’s jacket.
“Laura Kate, finish what you’re doing, because we’re baking cookies.”
“Yes, Chef. That’s the last Styrofoam layer coated. What do you need?” The young woman tucked her hair into the net with her spatula, leaving a smear of icing across her temple, as she rolled the cart with the fake cakes into the walk-in.
Chloe smiled and shook her head. She couldn’t help but love her assistant baker. Icing smeared all over her face didn’t seem to bother her.
By early afternoon, they’d made three sample batches, none of which measured up to the elusive prized cookie. Chloe was cleaning up the mixer and utensils for another try when she noticed a small wooden box pushed against the wall on the lower shelf of the workstation.
