Caught Bread Handed (29 page)

I reached for his hand.

He kissed my head. I breathed in everything I could, trying to create a sensory memory of how he smelled and the caress of his warm skin against mine. “I will see you again very soon, you will see. You must trust me. I will not leave you for good, Julieta. This is temporary.”

We kissed. I knew that he had a flight to catch but I didn't care. I couldn't let him go. Finally we pulled apart. He touched his lips to his fingers and placed them on my forehead. “Do not cry, I will see you soon, my love. My heart.” He touched his heart, turned, and walked out the door.

I stood frozen for a second, then ran to the window to watch him go. Part of me felt like it was leaving with him. Why did it have to be like this? I watched him walk across the street and into the Merry Windsor. That was it. Carlos was gone. He had breezed into my new world in Ashland, turned everything upside down, and now was gone again.

In a half daze I washed the dishes and dumped the burnt coffee cake in the trash. There wasn't much point in trying to sleep. It was nearly time to start my day, but I padded into my bedroom and crashed on the bed anyway. My alarm shook me from a happy dream of Carlos and me dancing on the bow of the ship. I must have dozed off.

Had it really only been last night that Carlos and I had been having a dreamy, romantic dinner under the stars? I dragged myself out of bed. I considered running to the airport and begging Carlos to stay. Then I realized that his flight had already boarded.

I took a long shower, trying to wash away the craziness of the past few days. I wondered what would happen to Mathew and to ShakesBurgers. Maybe there was a chance that Alan would be able to bring back the Jester after all.

The empty sidewalks and dark storefronts on Main Street seemed lonely as I walked to Torte. I knew that Carlos was on an airplane headed south, but I couldn't help but stop in front of the Merry Windsor and stare longingly at it. What if he had changed his mind at the last minute? What if he hadn't gotten on the plane?

Stop, Jules. I gave my body a quick shake and continued on to the bakeshop. I went through the motions of making coffee, rising yeast, and warming the oven. It was time to stop worrying about the mistakes my heart had made and move on.

Stephanie arrived as I was sliding the first batch of bread into the oven. “Hey,” she said, tucking her purple hair behind her ears.

“How are you doing this morning?” I asked.

“Fine. Why?” She narrowed her eyes.

I threw my hands up and chuckled. “Don't bite my head off.”

She grinned. I couldn't believe it. Stephanie was grinning and it wasn't even dawn.

“Late night?”

She reached for an apron. The red Torte apron with our Torte logo clashed with her hair. “Huh?”

“Were you up late studying for your midterms?” I repeated.

“Yeah. Kind of.” She twisted a strand of violet hair around her index finger, which was painted jet black. “Hey, is there any kind of dating policy here?”

“What do you mean?” I tried to play it casual.

“Like—uh—is it cool with you and your mom if employees date?”

“I take it this means that your late night involved more than studying.” I smiled.

A blush matching her cherry-red apron spread across her face. “Sterling and I kind of hung out, that's all.”

“That's great, and no, we don't have a dating policy. You're free to date anyone you want.” If hanging out with Sterling meant that Stephanie was happy and smiling this early in the morning, that was great with me. However, I hadn't ever considered a dating policy. I would have to talk to Mom about it. I wanted to see both Stephanie and Sterling happy, but if it didn't work out and they broke up things could get awkward in Torte's tight quarters. I'd have to keep my fingers crossed.

I changed the subject. “You probably haven't heard the news yet.”

“What news?”

“They made an arrest in Mindy's murder last night.”

“Really?” She washed her hands in the sink and came over to the island.

“Yep. It was Mathew.”

“Weren't they in business together?”

I nodded.

“Good thing they caught him.”

“My thoughts exactly,” I said, handing her a mixing bowl. “Can you start on cookie dough?”

Stephanie had become so well-versed in our morning routine that she could have made the dough with her eyes closed. In fact, at one point when I checked on her, it looked like her eyes were halfway closed. I couldn't blame her. It was early and she was getting the job done—eyes closed or not—I couldn't ask for more. And I was glad for an extra set of hands. I wanted to get the morning deliveries out the door and the pastry case stocked so that I could sneak out later to visit Thomas in the hospital.

I left Stephanie in charge and headed out to drop off the bread and cake orders. The sun had begun to rise and birds sang overhead. I didn't feel like singing. How long was I going to stay in a funk? If Carlos had stayed away I might have been able to keep my feelings at bay, but having him here had changed that. My passion had been reignited. And now he was gone again.

My delivery route took a bit longer than usual. Everyone wanted to know what happened last night. They had heard the sirens and seen the flashing lights on the police cars in the plaza. News in Ashland travels fast. I filled everyone in on what I knew. There was a sense of solidarity. Everyone was relieved that Mindy's killer had been caught and was behind bars. Life in our sweet little town could return to normal.

As I finished my deliveries I passed the Merry Windsor. To my disappointment Richard Lord stood on the front porch holding a giant ceramic mug of coffee—probably straight from a can—in his hand. “Juliet, come over here,” he boomed as I tried to duck out of his line of sight.

“Hey, Richard,” I said, holding the delivery box in front of me like a shield.

“Have you heard the news?” His silk bathrobe barely covered his portly waist.

“About Mathew?”

“It all went down here, you know. I'm having my marketing gal send out a press release this morning. The Merry Windsor had a hand in bringing down a killer. That should bring in more business.”

“Good for you, Richard.”

“Have you talked to that friend of yours, Jose?”

“No, why?”

“No reason.” He raised his coffee mug. “I heard that he might have reason to celebrate, that's all.”

“What does Jose have to celebrate?” I could feel irritation mounting inside.

“Rumor has it that he found a few new investors for the vineyard.” Richard winked and pointed to himself.

“
You're
going to invest in Jose's vineyard?”

“Don't look so surprised, Juliet. I like to diversify my investments.”

“What do you want with an organic winery? You don't even use organic products.”

Richard puffed out his chest. I was worried his bathrobe might come undone. “I'll have you know, young lady, that the Merry Windsor uses the freshest products in town. Now we'll have a direct link to only the finest wine. You might want to start looking for a new vendor. Who knows if Jose will have anything left after we do a revamp?”

I didn't know what Richard was hinting at and for the moment I didn't care. I did know one thing and that was that the Merry Windsor used only processed food. Richard was up to something, and it wasn't investing in an organic vineyard. I'd have to find a time to talk to Jose and get the real story.

“I've got to get back to the shop, Richard,” I said, shifting the box in my arms.

“Don't let me keep you.” He gulped his coffee and gave me an evil grin.

Ugh. Richard Lord knew how to get under my skin. I whipped around and crossed the plaza. Mom, Andy, and Sterling were all hard at work prepping for breakfast.

“Morning,” I greeted Andy and Sterling. Andy had a Southern Oregon University baseball cap on backward. He offered me a latte before both of my feet were even inside the door. “Hey, boss, I heard that you could use this.” He handed me a creamy white latte.

“You are a dream.” I took the latte. “Nectar of the gods.”

Sterling stopped wiping down the pastry case. “How are you doing, Jules? Your mom told us about last night. That's insane.”

“I'm fine, thanks, you guys. Especially with this.” I nodded a thanks to Andy.

He flipped his cap around. “It's what I do, boss.”

“You do it well.”

Andy blushed and returned to pulling shots. Sterling motioned me over to the pastry case. He dropped his voice. “How did it go last night?”

“With Mathew?”

“No, the surprise dinner. Did you like it?”

“With everything else that happened, I completely forgot about it.”

“Completely?”

“Maybe not completely. It was amazing. Is that what you two were conspiring about?”

“I can't say. It's bro code, you know?”

“Bro code? Since when are you a bro?”

Sterling smiled. “Once a bro, always a bro. That's what Carlos says.”

I flicked his wrist. “There is no way that Carlos says that.”

He laughed. “True.”

Mom waved me back to the kitchen. “Juliet, can you come take a look at this?”

“You missed a spot,” I said to Sterling.

He scrubbed the already spotless counter. “Don't fire me.” He pretended to beg.

I laughed and walked to the back. “Something smells amazing.” I peered into the oven. “What do you have baking?”

Mom frowned. “I thought I had a sponge cake, but look at it. It's not rising. I'm having a moment of panic. You don't think we're about to lose this oven too, do you? The temperature gauge says that it's at three hundred and fifty, but feel in there. It doesn't feel hot enough to me.”

“Oh, no.” Working with one oven had been hard enough. But without a single working oven it would be impossible to keep our doors open. I reached inside. Mom was right. The oven was warm, but certainly not up to temp.

“Did you try turning it off and on again?”

Mom shook her head. “No. I was hoping that it was all in my head.”

I clicked the oven off, waited for a second, and then turned it on again. “Cross your fingers. Maybe it's a weird glitch.”

We waited, staring at the glass window. I could tell that Mom was holding her breath. I crossed my fingers on both hands. The temp gauge stayed at three hundred and fifty. After a few minutes I looked at Mom. “Should we give it a try?”

She winced and closed her eyes. “Okay. You do it. I can't look.”

This time when I opened the oven a blast of warm air hit my face. “We're good!” I shouted.

Mom clapped and exhaled. “Thank goodness.”

I shut the oven. “We can't put this off any longer, Mom. I'm putting in our order for new ovens right now.”

She nodded. “I agree. Even if it means things might be tight for a while we have to do it. I had visions of having to go beg Richard Lord for oven space.”

“No way! We're doing this. Richard Lord can keep his expensive and never-used ovens, we're getting our own.” I marched to the office, pulled out the industrial kitchen equipment catalog, and placed a call. Within a matter of minutes our order was complete.

“It's done,” I announced, returning to the kitchen. They're coming in three weeks.”

“Three weeks?” Mom said. “What about Valentine's Day and the Chocolate Fest?”

“What about them?”

“How long is it going to take them to install?”

“They do it during off hours. They'll come in the evening when we're closed. Don't worry. They do this kind of install all the time. In fact, the Chocolate Fest could be the perfect time to have this done anyway. Downtown is going to be dead that week. What if we have Sterling, Andy, and Stephanie rotate shifts at the fest and here? We can close for a couple days to paint and to shift some things around.”

Mom rubbed her temples. “That's a good idea. Do you think we can pull it off?”

“Don't worry. I know we can.” I squeezed her hand to reassure her. Then I called a team meeting. We mapped out a schedule. Sterling and Andy were excited to paint. Stephanie wasn't quite as thrilled, so they agreed she could work the fest. They would help at peak times but otherwise would be in charge of Torte's face-lift.

New ovens were going to take us to the next level. They'd been a nagging concern in the back of my head ever since I'd come home. If we were going to do this, we might as well do it right.

Then I walked Andy and Sterling through my vision for the kitchen. The dining area was in good shape. The paint was still bright and the tables and booths were in excellent condition. The kitchen, though, hadn't been painted for years. A new coat would help spruce it up, and I had some ideas for moving existing shelving and building new shelving that would help streamline production.

After we had everything arranged I felt lighter. Torte was getting a fresh start and so was I.

 

Chapter Thirty-three

Later in the morning I packaged up a box of cinnamon rolls, jelly-filled doughnuts, and chocolate croissants for Thomas. A long walk was exactly what I needed to clear my head. I took my time walking past Southern Oregon University, where students were reading on the lawn and tossing Frisbees. Rosalind had been right. ShakesBurgers would have done well in this part of town that catered to hungry and usually broke college students with chain sandwich shops and fast-food joints.

When I arrived at the hospital, the nurse at the reception desk showed me to his room. I knocked lightly on the door.

“Come in,” Thomas said. His bed was in an upright position and aside from the bandage around his head he looked alert and happy. “How's it going?”

“I was going to ask you that.” I handed him the pastry box.