“Someday, I’d love to see some of your cakes.”
Finally! This topic she could get behind. “I have some photos on my phone.” Robin tugged off a glove and tapped open her camera roll app. They stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Robin! These are amazing!” Megan swiped to the next photo. “Looks like I was right before. You are an artist. Do you have an online profile?”
“No. I was working on one in Paris, but Victor convinced me to only post to the bakery account instead. He felt it would be better for business if my work was featured there and not split off on a personal account.”
“This Victor person sounds like a real piece of work.”
“You’re not wrong.”
“Are you thinking of adding cakes to the menu here?”
“No. Grandma asked me not to change anything while she’s gone. I think she’s worried I’m in over my head anyway. She forgets that I got a business degree along with my culinary one.”
“This one looks like a wedding cake. It should be on the cover of a magazine.” Megan had stumbled on Robin’s secret dream, as well as found the photo of a cake Robin was particularly proud of. Three layers stacked asymmetrically, topped with a rainbow of flowers tumbling down the side.
“I baked that one for a woman celebrating her eightieth birthday. She was a hoot. She said she’d never married because the love of her life had died tragically right before their wedding. She wanted a birthday cake fit for a bride, but she didn’t want traditional colors. Check out the next photo.”
Megan swiped left. “I love the sparklers!”
“Her family added those instead of birthday candles.”
“What a fun idea. You know, a cake like this would bring in a lot of money. We can’t get anything like this up here. Most of my brides order their cakes from Duluth.”
“Maybe someday.”
In the stroller, Baby Rae began to shift, stretching her tiny arms out in a boxer’s pose. Megan leaned over and laid her hand on the baby’s tummy. “I should get going before Little Miss starts fussing. Thanks for the walk.”
“Thanks for the chat.”
“I’m serious about the wedding cakes. If you change your mind, let me know. I could send a few brides your way.” Megan pushed the stroller, working her way to the door.
“If I change my mind, you will be the first to know.” But being sole baker while her grandparents were away would keep Robin busy. No way she would have the time for multiple custom cakes, even if it did sound like a dream come true. “Maybe once I get my feet under me. But you shouldn’t count on me anyway. After Grandma and Grandpa get back, I’ll be finding a new job in Paris.”
“Too bad. Deep Haven could use someone like you.” Megan stopped outside the bakery. Her breath came in puffs of white. “Maybe I should grab some bread for my guys. I know Cole and Josh both love fresh-baked goods.”
“Come in. It’s freezing out here.” Robin pulled open the bakery door, and a waft of honey and yeast billowed over them on the warm air from inside. “Let me wrap up a loaf for you.”
“I’ll take that one.” Megan pointed at a loaf studded with raisins.
“Good choice. It’s one of my favorites. I used to dream about my grandmother’s raisin-walnut bread while I was gone. I’ve tried to recreate it hundreds of times, but I could never get it right. Grandma swears she gave me the full recipe, but I think there must have been a secret ingredient she left out.”
“Maybe the secret ingredient is the Deep Haven air.” Megan grinned over the counter at her. She smiled back.
Robin moved to the cash register and rang up the order. She kept her eyes on the keys even though she could have punched them in in her sleep. Grandma’s charge to not change anything must extend to the register. It was still the same one they’d used for years.
The bakery sold bread, muffins, and sticky buns, and sometimes the customers liked to stay to eat. After attending a baking conference, Grandma and Grandpa had reluctantly added an espresso machine and a drip coffee system. On paper, coffee was their best seller, because almost everyone grabbed a cup no matter what else they were buying.
That morning, Robin had already seen many familiar faces. Pastor Dan Matthews had stopped in for a rosemary-and-olive focaccia, then Casper Christiansen had dropped by for an oatmeal loaf as he headed to Wild Harbor.
“Thanks again,” Megan said, stashing the bread in the storage area under Baby Rae’s stroller. “Seriously, I’m happy you’re back. Even for just a little while.” She gave Robin a wave and made her way out the door.
Robin grabbed a spray bottle and washcloth to wipe down the tables. Out in the main room, she gave each table a thorough wash, then looked around the space, stifling a yawn. Things were still quiet. She’d start the final dough of the day—one that needed to proof in the fridge overnight—and then she would think about closing up early. Wendy Matthews, the daughter of Pastor Dan and one of her part-time helpers, wasn’t coming in today, and jet lag was hitting hard.
She walked back to the kitchen to take care of the few dishes and to start the dough.
Strange. The floor looked a little damp near the sink. Uh-oh.
