Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
We’d stayed busy, but there was always at least one customer who bemoaned the lack of the old treats. I told Mum maybe we should put some of the old cakes back and take away some of the new, but she’d flat out refused.
“Yours are better,” she’d told me with blunt pride. “And only the best is served at Callie’s Wee Cakery.”
But now this …
It had come to Mum booting one of her regular, long-standing customers off the premises.
Mum had complained about Mrs. Rankin almost every day. The older lady was really getting on our nerves … but in my absence, I’d forgotten something. No one messed with me and Harry while Mum was around to see it. People always thought they should be intimidated and afraid of Dad … but Mum was the biggest Mamma Bear around.
“What a way to treat a loyal customer!” Mrs. Rankin spat.
“It is.” Mum gestured to Morag. “Morag has been patronizing my bakery since the first day it opened, and I won’t see her insulted beneath its roof.”
“Wait until the rest of the village hears of this insult to me!” Mrs. Rankin fumed as she sneered at Morag.
Morag tilted her chin. “Don’t you be looking at me like that, Aisla Rankin. And you can forget about coming into the store for your Friday sandwich, too, until you apologize.”
“Huh! Keep your sandwich. It’s too vinegary, anyway.” She sniffed haughtily and started to push past the congregated and very entertained customers.
“That’s not the sandwich, it’s your sour tongue!” Morag called after her, getting the last word in.
As soon as the door closed on Mrs. Rankin, despite my concerns about the business, I tried but failed to smother a snort of laughter.
Morag stepped up to the counter, her eyes dancing with amusement. “She had that coming.”
“That sour tongue comment was perfect.” I bit my lip against more laughter. “But what if she tells everyone not to come to the bakery?”
I could feel Mum studying me, but I kept my attention on Morag.
“No one pays a lick of attention to Aisla Rankin. Or Ursula.” Morag referred to Mrs. Rankin’s daughter, who was in her forties but according to gossip still thought she was a high school mean girl. Morag tucked a loose strand of teal-colored hair behind her ear. “Now, just to spite the auld witch, I’ll take an Ardnoch Saint Honoré and an apple candy rose puff.”
I boxed up her cakes with a smile and slipped a wee salted caramel macaron in as a thank-you.
The rest of the morning, as all mornings at the bakery since that fateful first day back, flew by and we were out of products before noon. Angie and Cathy immediately began to clean out front.
Phil no longer worked at the bakery.
Another reason I felt guilty and worried about my effect on the business.
Mum’s assistant had been working and learning from her for over two years. He’d never made it known he was upset about my impending return, but two mornings after my trip to London, he texted Mum to let her know he wouldn’t be back. He said he didn’t feel there would be much room for him at the bakery now, nor the attention he needed from her to become a professional baker. That he couldn’t stay where nepotism flourished! He was moving to Inverness to attend catering college.
Dad called him a spoiled man-child and told me not to worry about it.
Mum was upset by his defection, but also told me not to worry about it.
I worried about it.
For the most part, being back in Ardnoch was easy. Our friends and family welcomed me back like I’d never left. Yet there were some, not even as mean as Aisla and Ursula Rankin, who were a bit standoffish with me. Like I was new to the village all over again.
The worst was my own brother. I couldn’t tell if Harry was a moody, prepubescent almost-twelve-year-old who didn’t want to hang out with me or if he was pissed off at me for being away for so long. Whatever it was, anytime I tried to chat or hang out with him, he either disappeared out the door and got on his bike or locked himself in his room to play on the computer.
Part of me wondered if leaving had been a huge mistake. Feeling unsettled and concerned about my effect on the business, on my brother, was an excellent distraction from the thing that plagued me more than any other part of my life.
My unforgettable night with Lewis.
Now and then, out of nowhere, I’d see Lewis moving over my body. I could hear my moans mingling with his groans. Feel his hands, smell his aftershave, remember his mouth …
I shook my head of the memories and pulled off my apron. Mum disappeared into the kitchen to start work on a commissioned wedding cake, and I crossed the bakery to lock up. As I was pulling the blind down, a tall figure appeared on the other side, accompanied by a familiar but not so familiar face.