I hadn’t taken the elevator in years, so I almost walked past without noticing the gleaming doors. The brushed metal looked brand-new. No scratches or sticky fingerprints from the kids on the third floor. And no tape residue from the OUT OF ORDER notice that had practically lived there.
A repair tech stood beside it, wiping his hands on a rag.
I slowed to a stop. “Good afternoon.”
He glanced up. “Hey.”
I tilted my head toward the doors. “What happened to the elevator?”
“Whole system overhaul.”
My eyebrows shot up. “The entire thing?”
“Yep.” He jerked his chin at the closed doors. “New cab, new motors, new control panel—the works. The owner is sparing no expense.”
I blinked at him. “The same guy who’s owned the place for years?”
“It was the usual name on the invoice.” He tucked the rag into his pocket with a shrug. “Guess he came into some money. This stuff ain’t cheap.”
I stood there, staring at the elevator while he snapped his case shut and walked away. Getting our landlord to fork over the money for a major repair was unheard of. He was notorious for doing the bare minimum around here. Suddenly investing in a full system replacement for the elevator was completely out of character for him.
Shaking off the niggle of suspicion in the back of my mind, I pressed the lobby door open and headed outside. I didn’t have time to wonder how much the repair had cost or why it was being done now. I had a baking class to get to.
My walk to the youth center only took five minutes. The bus had already dropped off the kids when I headed inside, and half a dozen voices called out at once as soon as they spotted me.
“Miss Tessa!”
“You’re here!”
“Can we make brownies today?”
Their excitement was the same as always, but something felt a little off. I couldn’t pinpoint it until I stepped into the tiny kitchen we used for baking classes and stumbled to a stop, my eyes widening.
The old laminate countertops were gone, replaced with granite. Two gleaming convection ovens sat where the dented, mismatched ones had always been. A stainless-steel spice rack held uniform jars instead of a jumble of discount-store shakers. Stacks of brand-new mixing bowls and sheet pans sat on the open shelving. Bags of ingredients lined the supply bins.
Even the peeling paint was gone. All the walls had been redone in a soft buttery yellow, the tone almost an exact match for the one I’d used at Hale & Honey.
And in the far window, an AC unit hummed quietly.
One of the fifth graders beamed up at me. “Miss Tessa, this place is better than Christmas!”
“The walls are the same color as your bakery, Miss Tessa!” her friend squealed.
I smiled at them. “It looks incredible.”
But that suspicion in the back of my mind wasn’t so small anymore. There had been two expensive upgrades in my life today. Telling myself that it was just a lucky coincidence, I focused on the kids.
“Okay, everyone. Let’s wash up and get started.”
They darted toward the sinks in a chaotic cluster, arguing gleefully over whether to make cookies or cupcakes. I tried to let their enthusiasm pull me back into the moment, but my mind kept drifting. Someone had spent more money on this small kitchen than the youth center usually saw in donations for the entire year.
A thread of unease tugged at me throughout the entire class. While the kids munched on freshly baked cupcakes, I wiped down the new counters and packed my things to leave.
The manager appeared in the doorway just as the kids were washing their hands again. She clapped her hands and called out, “Okay, crew. Another surprise is waiting for you in the gym. Let’s go.”
The kids bolted for the door, the older ones not even bothering to try playing it cool. In thirty seconds, the kitchen was empty except for Julia and me.
She shook her head with a grin. “They’re going to lose their minds when they see what’s in the gym.”
