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)
Looking up from where I was prepping cake pans, I smiled. “Really? I’m glad to hear it.”
“I think you should double up since we’ve been selling out before ten nearly every day since you first made it.”
With a nod, I blew the strand of hair that had fallen from my pony. I wasn’t used to my hair being shorter, so when I put it up, strands quickly fell out. “I can do that.”
She set a pan down and glanced around at my work area before looking back at me. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to decorate cakes, would you?”
I forced myself to look indifferent. Cake decorating was one of the things I was known for in Boston. I had been booked out months in advance.
“I used to help my grandmother decorate cakes. It’s been a while, but I could give it a go.”
Opal’s eyes lit up. “It’s only me right now, and it’s been so stressful. Louie was our master cake decorator and did most of the custom orders. It sucks having to turn people away for custom cakes because it’s only me decorating them now.”
“Did you have one in mind you wanted me to try?”
Her smile grew wide. “It’s for a first birthday, and they would like a Tigger-themed cake. They don’t have anything in mind, so the decorating would be left up to you.”
“Boy or girl?” I asked, already thinking of designs in my head.
“A little girl, Wendy is her name.”
“When do they need it by?”
“That’s the issue; they need it by Friday. That’s only four days to work on it. I don’t want you to stress about this. I would do it, but I have three other custom orders this week.”
Poor Opal. I felt terrible lying to her. These few weeks, she had become like a second grandmother to me.
“I’ll give it a try. I am crafty and I did a pretty good job when I was helping my gran.”
“Then you’ll do it?”
I laughed. “I’ll do it.”
Opal hugged me, mumbled something about a raise, and rushed out of the kitchen.
“That was really nice of you.”
I turned to see a woman I’d never seen before. She was about my height, five-two, with light brown hair and the bluest of blue eyes. Her smile was warm, but there was something in her eyes that made me stand up straight and lower the veil down.
With a shrug, I replied, “Just doing my job.”
Her brow rose. “Sounded like custom cake decorating wasn’t part of your job description.”
I smiled. “I’ve done it before, not professionally, but I’m sure I can handle it.”
The woman pushed off the doorjamb and walked into the kitchen. She held out her hand for me.
“I’m Macy Carter Bennet. Opal is my aunt.”
Relaxing slightly, I let out the breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding in. I was on edge, wondering if each person I ran into was the one sent to find me. Once I left Boston, I drove south, sold my car to someone for cash in Washington, D.C., and then drove to North Carolina, where I met with someone who could help me start a new life and couldn’t be traced to me, and then I headed back up north. Finding Moose Village was a happy mistake.
I reached my hand out to her and shook it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Macy.”
“You’re new in town?”
“Yes, I am. I moved here about a month ago.”
She smiled softly. “Really? Where from?”
“Chicago, but I was only there a few months.” It was part of my cover. I hoped people wouldn’t ask me too much about a city I had never set foot in. Plus, I was told to try and stay as close to the truth as possible. The West Coast was where I was born and raised.
“Where were you before that?”
I looked at her and had a sinking feeling about this woman. She wasn’t going to take simple answers; that was evident.
“The West Coast.”
Her perfectly tweezed brow rose for a second time. “California, Oregon?”
I lifted my chin. “Around there.”
Both brows shot up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
With a carefree shrug, I returned to the cake pans and started preparing them again.
“Do you have experience working in a bakery?”
“I do.”
“That’s wonderful. I knew Aunt Opal was hoping to hire someone quickly. It’s hard to find qualified people in such a small town.”
I glanced up at her. “She’s managed to find some amazing bakers.”
Macy bit down on her lower lip and nodded. “She has.”
“So, is she your mother or father’s sister?” I asked.
“My mother’s side. Our grandmother used to own the bakery, but it was more of a café. When Opal returned from France, she turned it into a bakery.”
“That’s nice that it could stay in the family.”
Macy nodded and walked around the kitchen. She reached for a macaron and popped it into her mouth. “I love the lemon ones.”