Meet Your Baker (31 page)
As the bed elevated me into a more upright position, I swayed a little.
“See.” Mom patted my left leg.
The color had returned to my hand, but Caroline’s fingerprints were bruised onto my wrist like cookie dough in a press.
I tried to move my right arm. It felt stiff, but not painful. The doctors must have bandaged my hand where Caroline had sliced it.
Mom gave me a look of concern. “She really did a number on you. I just can’t believe Caroline would do this to you.”
“Did they get her?”
“Yes. As a matter of fact I was there. Doug and I had dinner together.” She blushed.
“I know, I saw you two. You looked pretty cozy.” I tried to smile but it hurt too much.
Her cheeks flamed with color. “I know I should have told you, but I didn’t want to throw one more thing at you. It is still new. We’ve been taking it really slow.”
“It’s great, Mom. I’m happy for you.”
She rubbed my arm and smiled. “Thanks, we’ll see where it goes. Anyway, we walked down for a gelato after dinner and all of a sudden there was an uproar outside. Doug ran out to see what was happening and Caroline literally slammed into him. She must have just stabbed you. I recognized the knife, but I didn’t put it together until someone down near Pucks started shouting for an ambulance.”
Her voice trembled. “Thomas just happened to be there having dinner with a friend. We chatted with them on our way out actually. By the time I got there he had pressure on the bleeding. He knew exactly what to do—it’s so lucky he was there. One might call it divine intervention.”
“Where’s Caroline now?”
“She’s in custody. Don’t worry. Doug took her in immediately. He’s sure that when the DNA results come in they’ll prove she did it. I want to warn you right now that you’re probably going to have to testify.”
“Right.” I rubbed my eyes. “I hadn’t even thought about that. It all happened so fast. I still can’t really believe it was her all along. It sounds like she planned Nancy’s murder, tried to kill Lance and then me. I kept thinking maybe she was being affected by the concussion, but I don’t think so. I think she orchestrated it all.”
I told Mom everything Caroline told me at Torte. When I finished Mom shook her head. “It’s pretty stunning what people can or will do when they feel threatened. It’s such a shame.”
A nurse came in a while later to check my vitals and deliver breakfast on a tray.
“Breakfast. Oh no, what about Torte? I didn’t even think about the bakeshop.” I tried to move again, pain shot through my arm and straight down my spine. I winced.
“Take it easy.” Mom smiled and removed plastic wrap from the top of a glass of orange juice. She stuck a straw in the cup and handed it to me.
“Drink this. Don’t worry. I’ve got it covered.”
“Who? How?”
She forced the straw to my lips. “Drink. I said I’ve got it covered.”
I took a sip of the orange juice. For hospital juice it wasn’t half bad. Maybe the flavor was enhanced by the fact that I was alive. Things could have turned out quite differently last night.
“Come on, Mom, who’s running Torte?” I held up my empty glass. “I drank up, see.”
She grinned and removed a silver tray that kept a plate of scrambled eggs, fruit, and toast warm. “Let’s just say that I may have taught Doug a thing or two.”
“The Professor? He can bake?”
“Not like your dad, but enough to keep Torte in business this morning. Stephanie’s helping him. She’s really trainable. I think she has some potential.”
“Stephanie, really?” I took a bite of eggs. “Have you told the Professor about Richard Lord?”
“Not yet, but I will.”
She watched as I picked at my breakfast. The act of eating made me feel more normal, but I wasn’t sure I could keep it down.
“Honey, there’s something else I need to tell you.”
“Go ahead.”
“It’s about Carlos.”
I dropped my fork on the tray.
She handed it back to me. “No, no, nothing bad. I just didn’t know what to do when you were injured last night. I ended up calling him. I’m sorry. I don’t know if I should have, but I felt like he needed to know.”
“What did he say?”
“He’s worried. I called him back to let him know you were out of surgery and everything went well. I told him I’d call him when you woke up. I’m sorry if I crossed a line.”
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
“Worry about what?” Thomas’s voice interrupted our conversation. He held a giant bouquet of wildflowers in his hands. They covered his face.
“Are you hiding from us?” Mom teased.
Thomas peeked from around the arrangement. “Is it okay if I come in?”
Mom jumped to her feet and took the flowers from him. She positioned the bouquet in front of the window and then embraced Thomas in a long hug. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you did last night. As you can see, our patient is doing great.”
“It’s my job.” Thomas laughed as she kissed his cheek. He turned to me. His voice became soft. “I’m glad to see you with a little color in your cheeks, Jules.”
“You two chat. I’m going to go see if I can scrounge up a cup of cafeteria coffee. Want one?”
Thomas declined and took a seat next to me.
“How you feeling?”
“Okay, I guess. It sounds like I have you to thank for that.”
Thomas rubbed his chin. “Hardly. You’re a fighter. I knew you’d be okay.”
“Would you have ever guessed Caroline?”
“Not in a million.”
“Me neither.”
“I’m going to have to take an official statement, sorry. You want me to come back later after you get some sleep?”
“No, I’m fine. I’d rather do it now, while everything’s fresh.”
Thomas pulled out his iPad and took notes. I told him everything I could remember, including my conversation with Lance.
“Whew.” Thomas clicked off his iPad when I finished. “Lance might want to buy the rights to this. Shakespeare would be proud.”
I shuddered.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No, I was just remembering Caroline’s plan to fillet my wrists and pay homage to Shakespeare’s Juliet with my suicide.”
Thomas grabbed my hand and dropped it quickly. “Jules, I never would have let that happen.”
“I know, I told her that.”
“No, I mean, I feel terrible. I should never have involved you with this. I keep running scenarios through my head of what could have happened last night.”
“Thomas, I’m fine. Really. I think I needed a distraction anyway. I got wrapped up in Nancy’s murder.”
He started to say something but was interrupted by a nurse at the door. “Someone sure loves you.” She gave Thomas the eye as she carried in not one but three vases of red roses.
She set them next to Thomas’s bouquet on the windowsill and handed me a card. “Honey, whoever sent you these is a keeper.”
I didn’t read the card.
“Don’t you want to open that?” Thomas asked.
“I know who they’re from.”
Thomas looked at his feet.
“According to Caroline you should know the answer to that. Apparently the whole town knows I’m heartbroken.”
Thomas chuckled. “I haven’t heard that, but it sounds like something a deranged woman would say.” He stood.
“I better check in with the Professor. Glad you’re feeling better, Jules. You know I’m here for you if you need anything—anything.”
“Thanks, I do.”
Thomas strolled out the door. I sat clutching the card from Carlos to my chest.
A week later I was back on my feet and back at Torte. The firefighters had finally succeeded in battling the blaze. Charred hillsides were the only remnants of the flames. Two inches of stiches on my right shoulder and a scar forming on the palm of my hand were the remnants of my first week back at home.
I would carry the scars with me as a reminder of everything I’d learned.
Torte is the place I want to be,
I thought, rolling up my sleeves and rolling warm bread dough into loaves.
Working with my injury took some adjustment, but Mom was right, Stephanie had talent. She took direction without so much as a snarl. We hired Sterling to take her place at the counter and put her to work in the kitchen. She was a much better match for behind-the-scenes work, and her artistic skills, with a little honing, were on par with many of the professionally trained pastry chefs that I worked with on the ship.
She asked me for a minute alone the first day I came back. She actually apologized for her attitude and she told me she thinks she may want to go to culinary school. I was shocked on both accounts. Apparently the only reason she was studying psychology was because her mom had died last spring and her dad had been drinking himself into oblivion ever since. Poor kid. No wonder she and Sterling hit it off.
When I asked Mom why she hadn’t told me about Stephanie’s background, she gave me a knowing smile and simply said, “It wasn’t my story to tell.”
Sterling had to lose the hoodie as a prerequisite to counter work. He and Andy got along well and had a healthy rivalry over who could bring in the most tips. Customers loved their playful banter.
In part, I had to thank Caroline. If she hadn’t murdered Nancy and set off a bizarre chain of events, Torte might not even be in business today.
The day I was released from the hospital I marched a check for twenty-five thousand dollars to Richard Lord. I wish I had brought Mom along. The look on his face was almost enough to quiet the nudge of regret I felt about giving up on my dream of opening a restaurant with Carlos.
I did it in the lobby of the Merry Windsor in front of his staff and guests waiting for rooms. It felt liberating to watch Richard try to keep his face passive as he examined the check.
Since I was feeling particularly feisty I took the opportunity to confront Richard about ransacking and locking me in Caroline’s dressing room. He denied it, but I could tell I’d hit a nerve by the way he hollered even louder at his staff and shoved a handful of nuts sitting on the reception desk in his mouth. Maybe the great and powerful Richard Lord had an Achilles’ heel after all—in the petite and wiry form of Mia. It’s the only explanation that made sense. Richard had gone to Caroline’s dressing room in search of the photo and run into me instead. I knew he was all bark and no bite. I must admit, I took a little too much pleasure in watching him squirm.
Mom and I sat down at my apartment, while she plied me with tea and homemade soup, to map out a business plan. With Richard Lord off our back, we could focus on paying down our vendor bills and saving for new ovens. I told her my idea of offering special Friday-night dinners and taking on some catering clients to bring in extra cash. She loved the idea. It felt good to have a plan and know that we were a team.
Thanks to all the drama surrounding Nancy’s murder and the clearing skies, Torte was more popular than ever. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face as the front door jingled and Andy poured shots of espresso in to-go cups.
Lance popped in for his usual drink. I hadn’t seen him since Caroline’s arrest. He did send me a bouquet of posies at the hospital.
When he saw me in the back he asked Sterling if I had a minute.
“Ah, the lovely Juliet, I heard you’re back with the living. What a terrible business about Caroline. Terrible.”
“Lance, I wanted to ask you something. Did you tell Caroline that I was joining the company?”
“No, why?”
“When she attacked me that night, she was convinced that I was joining the company.”
Lance took a sip of his coffee and considered this for a moment. “Well, I may have mentioned on a few occasions that I was priming you for the role of leading lady. Kidding, of course.”
“No more kidding, okay? Your kidding almost got me killed.”
“You are too much. You should reconsider. That flair for drama oozes out of you.” Lance kissed me on both cheeks. “Ta-ta.”
I watched him amble up Main Street, stopping every few feet to sign an autograph or pose for a photo. Caroline was right, he really did know how to work the artistic director schmooze.
Late in the morning, Mia came in.
“How’s everything?” I asked meaningfully.
“It’s good.” She smiled shyly.
“Richard?”
She shrugged. “I haven’t said anything yet. Maybe I’ll be ready in the future. But for now I’m happy to be with Mom.”
The Professor swung by as we were closing to take Mom out for an afternoon gelato. I teased him about his baking talent.
“I earned these rolling dough.” He showed off his callused palms. “Who knew it was such a demanding task.” His eyes twinkled when Mom swatted him with an oven mitt.
Their exchange reminded me of the way my parents used to tease each other, only different—new. The Professor must have noticed my reminiscent expression. He patted my arm with his callused hand. “Love finds you when you’re ready.”
“Is that Shakespeare?”
He bowed. “Yours truly.”
Before they left hand in hand he filled me in regarding Caroline’s murder trial. She had confessed, which changed everything. I might not even need to testify.
I’d be fine either way. I felt sorry for her more than anything. Well, that’s not quite true. In physical therapy I spent most of the hour swearing her name, but otherwise I thought she seemed sad and lonely. It made me all the more dedicated to making sure my life was full of connections. No more hiding out on cruise ships and keeping my circle of friends small. I was ready to step into my new life, wherever it led me.
Speaking of being fine. I hadn’t opened the note Carlos sent with the flowers. He’d left about a thousand messages on my voice mail. I finally broke down and let Mom call him to tell him I was fine. I was. Or at least I was much improved from the day I stepped off the boat.
Right now I needed Torte and my sweet little hometown. As for Carlos and the life that might have been? For the moment his card, and everything it symbolized, was tucked in my sock drawer. Maybe I’d pull it out soon. Or maybe not.
Ingredients:
2 packages of yeast
