Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“Home.”
“Yes. I’m sure Sally would love to take care of someone. She’s lonely in that big ol’ house all by herself.”
Smiling, I leaned forward and stared at the briefs that needed my attention.
“You’re right.”
“So you’ll take some time off then?”
I stood. “I’m going to do more than take time off. I’m going to quit.”
My sister started to cough and then cleared her throat. “You’re going to quit?”
“I am.”
“Lord above, please don’t let Mom know you talked to me. You know I’ll get blamed for this.”
With a laugh, I assured my sister I would keep her out of the conversation.
“Hey, Kian?”
“Yeah?”
“I think you’re doing the right thing. The happiness has been gone from your eyes for far too long.”
Smiling, I replied, “I love you, sis.”
“Love you more! And good luck!”
Cadie
When I stepped into the back entrance of Batter Up Bakery, I drew in a slow, deep breath through my nose and exhaled. Freshly baked bread mixed with the smells of citrus and cinnamon. Those were some of my favorite smells. I instantly missed my mother and grandmother. It had been the longest I had ever gone without speaking to my mother. It felt like a hole was slowly opening up in my heart.
I closed my eyes and pushed the feelings away.
“That smells heavenly,” I said as I walked in, hung up my coat, and put my purse in one of the small lockers that Opal, the owner, had for the handful of employees she had. It had been pure luck that the bakery was hiring someone when I ended up in the small town of Moose Village. It wasn’t close to Boston, but it wasn’t far away. The last thing Michael would think to do is look for me in New York or Massachusetts. The first thing he would do was head out to Oregon, where my family lived. That is, if he even bothered to look for me.
Opal looked up and grinned. It was the same grin she gave me when I walked through her front door and pointed to the now-hiring sign a month ago.
“You got experience working in a bakery?” Opal had asked.
“Some,” I said, hiding my smile because the last thing I would do was tell her I owned a bakery in Boston. “I learned from my granny. She taught me everything I know.”
That part of my made-up life had been true. Everything else, including my name, driver’s license, and Social Security number, was fake.
“That is my famous multigrain sourdough!” Opal stated, wiping her hands on her apron. “You getting used to getting up so early? Getting here at five in the morning is a big ask, but it’s a baker’s life.”
Again, it wasn’t anything new for me since I was at my own bakery at four in the morning, but as far as Opal knew, I had left a corporate job in Chicago for a new start. That was all I had told her. Another lie. I had never even been to Chicago. I had studied everything about the city I could in case someone asked me something, though.
“I am!”
She grinned.
“What do you need me to do?”
“I’ve got all the components for the sour cherry pie if you wouldn’t mind getting those going.”
I pulled everything out and got to work. The pies would take ninety minutes to cook, so it was a good place to start. Opal sold everything from breads, pies, cakes, pastries, and more. Her bakery was adorable as well. It was decorated in a vintage, whimsical style with historical inspirations. The colors were mainly white and blue-gray. It was very different from my bakery in Boston, which had more of a modern-day flare with black and white colors. I loved it, though. It was the perfect fit for Moose Village.
Opal’s bakery was cozy, and the small vintage tables out front of the bakery gave it a very European feel.
After getting the pies in the oven, I started working on the other items that would be in the case: orange cranberry scones, chocolate chunk and salted oatmeal cookies, and sausage rolls. I also started to prep things for the pastries. Those were all made last week and frozen, so they were easy to just pop in the oven.
At 7:30, I started to put items in the bottom oven: chai buns, chocolate croissants, cinnamon rolls, and maple-pecan pull-apart buns. The last in the oven was my grandmother’s banana nut bread, which had already become a hit in the short three weeks or so I had been working at Batter Up Bakery.
By noon, the bakery was busy, and I was not only getting things ready for tomorrow, but also trying to keep up with special orders. For a small town, the residents loved their baked goods.
“You sold out of the banana nut bread again,” Opal said as she made her way back to the kitchen.