Читать онлайн книгу «The Bachelor Baker» автора Carolyne Aarsen

The Bachelor Baker
Carolyne Aarsen
An anonymous benefactor brought Melissa Sweeney to the once-booming town of Bygones, Kansas. But she can’t fulfill her longtime dream of starting up her own bakery without help.With his traditional views of work and family, Brian Montclair is the unlikeliest candidate for the job. Even more surprising is the powerful attraction sprouting up between the rugged mechanic and his fiercely independent new boss. Brian’s heart and soul belongs to his hard-working community that’s slowly coming back to life. Melissa wants to be part of that transformation…if she can make Brian believe they can be true partners in everything—including love.


An Unlikely Partnership
Opening a business isn’t a piece of cake—something Melissa Sweeney discovers when an anonymous benefactor brings her to Bygones, Kansas. She can’t fulfill her longtime dream of starting up her own bakery without help. But with his traditional views of work and family, Brian Montclair is the unlikeliest candidate for the job.Even more surprising is the powerful attraction sprouting up between the rugged mechanic and his fiercely independent new boss. Brian’s heart and soul belongs to his hardworking community that is slowly coming back to life. Melissa wants to be part of that transformation…if she can make Brian believe they can be true partners in everything—including love.
Melissa turned and almost ran into Brian.
“I’ll take care of this,” he growled. “You go bake your little fours or whatever you call them.”
She held his steady gaze, his eyebrows lowered over his deep-set eyes. She would not be intimidated by an employee, but at the same time she sensed he was not backing down.
“Okay. I’ll be in the back,” she said with a forced smile, knowing she would have to talk to him later about the boss/employee relationship. If he was going to work here, they needed to keep a few things straight.
Their eyes held a moment and she couldn’t look away.
She couldn’t figure out why his attitude bothered her. Brian Montclair was not her type and the last person she would want to have anything to do with beyond the bakery.
CAROLYNE AARSEN
and her husband, Richard, live on a small ranch in northern Alberta, where they have raised four children and numerous foster children, and are still raising cattle. Carolyne crafts her stories in an office with a large west-facing window through which she can watch the changing seasons while struggling to make her words obey.

The Bachelor Baker
Carolyne Aarsen


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Then Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry,
and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”
—John 6:35
I’d like to thank Dennis Donker and Candice of Barrhead Bakery for their help showing me how their bakery works. And for making me want to come back and buy every kind of pound cake they make.
Special thanks and acknowledgment to Carolyne Aarsen
for her contribution to The Heart of Main Street continuity.
Contents
Chapter One (#uc85b0870-3fb4-5f7a-979c-99cfee9e6274)
Chapter Two (#ud2fb13cc-8846-5a6f-b6a9-2ec2989b77f5)
Chapter Three (#uc163f204-6f5e-57ee-bd5d-76eda9a9b407)
Chapter Four (#u5f36a7e1-df70-5c81-8437-9891691cc583)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
He took up her whole office.
At least that’s how it felt to Melissa Sweeney.
Brian Montclair sat in the wooden chair across the desk from her, his arms folded over his chest and his entire demeanor screaming ‘‘get me out of here.’’
Tall with broad shoulders and arms filling out his button-down canvas shirt rolled up at the sleeves and tucked into worn blue jeans, he looked more like a linebacker than a potential baker’s assistant.
Which is what he might become if he took the job Melissa had to offer him.
Melissa drew in a deep breath, brushed her long hair back from her face and held up the worn and dog-eared paper she had been given. It held a short list of candidates for the job at her bakery, Sweet Dreams Bakery. She had already hired one of the people on the list, Amanda True, but as a high school student she was only available to work part-time.
The rest of the names, once neatly typed out, had been crossed off with comments written beside them. Unsuitable. Too old. Unable to be on their feet all day. Just had a baby. Nut allergy. Moved away.
This last comment appeared beside two of the eight names on her list, a sad commentary on the state of the town of Bygones, which she had only recently moved to.
When Melissa had received word of a mysterious benefactor offering potential business owners incentive money to start up a business in the small town of Bygones, Kansas, she had immediately applied. All her life she had dreamed of starting up her own bakery. She had taken courses in baking, decorating and business management, all with an eye to someday living out the faint hope of owning her own business.
When she had been approved, she had quit her baking job at the hotel in St. Louis, packed up her few belongings and come here. She felt as if her life, after all the mishaps and missteps, had finally taken a good turn. A turn she had some control over.
She started up the bakery in July and for the past month she had been running it with the help of Amanda. However, in the past couple of weeks it had become apparent she needed extra help.
She had received the list of potential hires from the Bygones Save Our Streets Committee and was told to try each of them first. Brian Montclair was on the list. At the bottom, mind you, but still on the list.
“I want to thank you for coming here,” she said by way of introduction.
“No problem,” he said, glancing her way, then looking suddenly away as if unable to hold her gaze. “What can I do for you?”
“The reason I called you here was to offer you a job,” she said, injecting a note of enthusiasm into her voice.
Melissa still didn’t know what the people on the SOS Committee were thinking when they put this man on her list. He looked like he should be pulling wrenches, not handling the delicate petit fours, tarts and cupcakes she stocked in the bakery.
Brian pulled back, his frown making his heavy eyebrows sink lower, hooding his eyes. “A job? Here? In a bakery? That’s why you phoned me?”
In spite of her own concerns about his suitability, the veiled contempt in his voice raised her hackles. “Yes. I was given a list of potential hires and your name was one of the candidates.”
“Seriously? The committee gave you my name?” He slapped one large hand on his blue-jeaned thigh.
She frowned herself at his shocked anger. “I was told everyone on this list was looking for work. Why else would you think I would have called you?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I came. To find out what you wanted. As for your list, I sure never put my name down for working in a bakery,” he said, his voice full of frustration as he shoved his hand through his shaggy blond hair, his blue eyes growing hard. “The new hardware store, sure. Maybe even the bookstore that just started up, but this bakery? Seriously?”
Melissa drew in a slow breath, trying to stifle her own growing anger with his incredulity. Though she had only been running the bakery for a month now, she was proud of what she had done here.
Bygones, Kansas, she understood, had been dealt some hard economic blows the past few years. The closure of Randall Manufacturing, a major employer, had reverberated through the town, resulting in people moving away, businesses losing revenue and some even closing down.
Then, in May, someone with deep pockets set up the Save Our Streets Committee to oversee the selection of candidates to run new businesses in Bygones. Melissa had been one of the lucky applicants.
“It’s a good job,” she said now, a defensive note entering her voice.
“If you like working with frilly cakes and sugar and all that stuff you’ve got in those cases out there,” Brian said, sweeping one large hand in a dismissive gesture behind him.
“I happen to enjoy it a lot.”
“Well, I’m a guy. I can’t see myself baking and icing cakes.”
Melissa wanted to stop the interview immediately, but she knew she would have to report back to the committee and they were quite adamant about her trying to hire the people from their list.
And given that Brian was the last one on the list...
“The hours are from nine o’clock to five-thirty with half an hour off for lunch,” Melissa said, forcing herself to carry on in the face of his obvious antagonism.
Brian drew in a long, slow breath, tucking his chin against his chest and looking away from her, his hair falling across his forehead. Then he looked up at her, his blue eyes like lasers. “I can’t do it.”
Melissa blinked, then felt the tension gripping her ease off. Brian had been the last person, in many ways, she wanted to hire.
She could still hear her friend Lily, who ran the flower shop beside her, Love in Bloom, specifically warning her not to hire the very man sitting across from her. Apparently he had been angrily vocal in his dislike of the new businesses starting up in Bygones and especially vocal about her bakery with its useless cakes and tarts.
But at the same time she knew that when she went back to the committee for a new list, she would have to show that she did all she could. So she gave it one more college try.
“I think...I think you could like working here,” she said with forced enthusiasm, stifling her own frustration with his obvious reluctance. “Besides, I know there aren’t many jobs available in town.”
His eyes narrowed and as he leaned forward, she could almost feel the hostility radiating off him. “I don’t need you to tell me that.” He spoke quietly but forcefully.
“Of course,” she said again, wishing she didn’t feel so intimidated by him.
Brian’s eyes ticked around the office with its bare walls, then behind him, as if assessing the situation. The office was just off the sales counter of the bakery. Through the door she saw a portion of the glass cases holding the squares, cupcakes, tarts, cookies and pies she had baked this morning. Her feet still throbbed from being on them since five o’clock this morning, but it was a good feeling.
Brian turned back to her and pressed his hands against his thighs as he stood, filling up the small space even more.
He drew in a deep breath, his lips pressed together, and gave her a curt nod. “Thanks for the job offer, but no thanks.”
He held her gaze a split second more and for the tiniest moment, Melissa felt a nudge of regret. In another time and another place she could acknowledge his rugged good looks, the line of his jaw.
But not here. And not now.
And not after what Jason did to you.
Melissa buried that thought again. Jason was in the past. She was in another time and a better place and she was her own person and her own boss in charge of her own life.
Girl’s got to take care of herself because no one else will.
Her mother’s constant mantra rang through her mind as she got to her feet.
“Thanks for coming in,” she said, trying not to let her relief show.
Brian held her gaze another moment, as if he could sense her relief, then he gave her another curt nod, turned and marched out of her office, around the counter and out the door.
When she heard the door fall shut behind him, she dropped back in her chair. Her hands were still shaking. Goodness he was upset and she shouldn’t be surprised.
At least this obligation had been taken care of. She could strike his name off her list.
The next thing to do was call Dale Eversleigh, her contact person on the SOS Committee, and let him know she had done her best with the names the committee had given her. Surely there had to be someone else in Bygones who was not only capable but willing to work in her bakery.
Just then the buzzer sounded, announcing another customer. Melissa glanced at the clock on the wall of her office. Amanda was still busy in the back. So Melissa caught the pink-and-white-striped apron off a hook, slipped it on and went out to greet her next customer.
A young man stood in the center of the bakery, hands in his pockets, brown hair brushed back from a narrow face frowning as a young woman flitted along the glass cases oohing and aahing over the contents, her dark ponytail bobbing as she crouched down and then straightened as she inspected everything. The cases held cupcakes with pink fluffy icing, cookies spread out on white paper doilies, cakes with pink trim and trays and trays of sugary squares and puffs piled up in fancy little displays. “Would you look at all the good stuff here?” she said, her voice full of awe.
“I’m looking at the prices,” the young man said, frowning at the blackboard Melissa had up on one wall with the amounts written on it. Amanda, the young girl who worked at the bakery, had written the list of offerings up in colored chalk, decorating it with fanciful flowers and flourishes. “Now that Dad’s not working anymore I can’t afford anything here.”
“But, Rory, it’s all so lovely,” the young girl said, pouting at him as she rested her hand against the case as if trying to touch the tarts inside. “I’m sure it’s worth every penny.”
“And I don’t have as many pennies since Dad got laid off from the police department,” Rory said. “We can grab a chocolate bar at The Everything around the corner. Be way cheaper.”
“But not as good.” In spite of her reluctance, however, the young girl straightened and with one last, longing look at the pastries gave Melissa an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”
Then they left.
Another satisfied customer. Though the bakery was busy enough to require extra help, she had come across resistance to her prices—even though they were more than fair—and resistance to her presence. Small towns, she thought, turning away from the counter, Brian’s unwilling countenance slipping into her thoughts.
“Sorry I wasn’t helping you,” Amanda called as she came out of the storage room at the back of the bakery lugging a large yellow pail. Tall and thin, with curly brown hair and what Amanda said were True Blue eyes, she didn’t look strong enough to carry the large bags of flour and pails of shortening Melissa used. “I saw you were busy with Mr. Montclair so I figured I’d get the shortening out to soften. But I couldn’t find it right away and had to go digging.” She set the pail down on the wooden counter, her hair coated with a layer of dust. “What’s the matter? You look ticked.”
“It shows?” Melissa pushed out her lower lip and blew her bangs out of her face with a sigh of frustration. “I just lost a customer and tried to hire Brian Montclair.”
“You tried to hire Brian?” Amanda looked at her, her blue eyes wide with surprise. “I heard him at The Everything when the bakery first started, you know, saying he wasn’t comin’ to any of the new businesses if he could help it. ‘Wasn’t working for no city slickers,’ he said.” Amanda’s last words rose up as if on a question. “Surprised he would come for an interview.”
Though only a teenager, Amanda was a lifelong resident of Bygones and had been filling Melissa in on the many and varied people living in the town, their history and connections.
“He didn’t know it was an interview when he came,” she said. “But he didn’t want the job.”
“Not surprised. He’s more of a mechanic than a baker.”
Guess she had him pegged after all, Melissa thought.
“Got lotsa cake pops left,” Amanda said as she pried open the lid on the pail. “We don’t need to make any tomorrow.”
“That’s too bad. I thought they would sell better,” Melissa said, picking up her checklist for what they needed to make for tomorrow. “Back in St. Louis there was a bakery around the corner from the hotel I baked at that couldn’t keep up with the demand. Lots of mothers had them at birthday parties.”
“They’re great and all, but people need to try them, I guess. Maybe if Mrs. Morgan has them at the wedding—”
Melissa held her hand up as if to stop what Amanda had to say. “Don’t even say that out loud or somehow she’ll find out and she’ll add them to an already overstuffed dessert menu.”
Amanda grinned. “She is kinda getting carried away.”
“Kinda,” Melissa agreed, glancing over the amount of squares and cookies still in the case. “At least today we don’t have as much left as yesterday.”
She eased out another sigh, rubbing her left temple with her fingertips as she hung the clipboard back on the nail beside the industrial mixer. She’d been up since five o’clock this morning getting the bread going for the day and a spike of pain was slowly drilling into her temple.
“You look beat,” Amanda said. “Why don’t you go home? I’ll be okay to close.”
Melissa glanced around the bakery trying not to make a face at the flour dusting the floor, the crumbs spread around the cutting boards and the fingerprints she knew smudged the display cases in the front. Though she had dreamed for many years about opening her own bakery, the reality of the relentlessness of the work was settling in.
As did the fact that the success of the bakery lay squarely on her shoulders. In St. Louis, working at the hotel as a baker, she was an employee. Here, she was on her own. Though independence and the ability to support herself were what she had always wanted, she never realized how heavy the load could be.
“Okay. If you don’t mind cleaning up,” she said.
“Sure. No problem.” Amanda flashed her a smile.
With a grateful sigh Melissa tugged her apron off just as her cell phone rang. Her heart sank as she glanced at the name displayed on the screen.
Mrs. Morgan. Mother of the groom of the wedding Melissa was baking for. Very demanding mother of the groom, she might add.
“My dear Melissa. Sorry to be a bother,” Mrs. Morgan was saying in her usual hurried and breathless voice. “But I need to meet with you and Gracie. I want to rethink the dessert reception.”
Of course she did, Melissa thought, leaning against the counter behind her. “When did you want to meet?”
“Tomorrow. At noon at the Cozy Cup.”
“Okay. I’ll be there.” She ended the call and blew out her breath, catching Amanda’s concerned look. “Will you be able to help me at noon tomorrow for an hour or so?”
Amanda nodded. “My mom doesn’t need me then. I can easily come.”
“That would be great.” She pushed herself away from the counter and walked into her office. Right now her first priority was to talk to Dale Eversleigh and see about getting a new list of prospective employees.
* * *
Brian strode across Bronson Avenue feeling more humiliated with each step. Working at the bakery? What was the SOS Committee thinking?
When Melissa Sweeney had called him he wasn’t sure what she wanted, but she had asked him to come to the bakery and it would seem weird to say no. The first time he’d seen her around town he had been immediately attracted to the spunky redhead with the bright smile.
That was until he found out that she was the owner of the new bakery. A business that had received the money he also had applied for.
He yanked his keys out of his pocket, still frustrated that the SOS Committee had seen fit to give money to outsiders for shops like a pet store, flower shop, bookstore, coffee shop and bakery instead of the mechanic shop he’d wanted to open. The hardware store he could understand, but the rest?
And now the committee seriously thought he would want to work at the bakery? The hardware store, okay, but the bakery? Seriously?
He was about to cross Main Street to where his truck was parked by the grocery store when the door of the Cozy Cup Café opened and Miss Coraline stepped out.
“Brian. Hello,” she said, giving him the same warm smile she seemed to have for all her former students.
Miss Coraline was tall, always elegant, her silvery hair cut the same she had always worn it, a short style brushing her jaw. As far as Brian could tell she hadn’t aged since she taught him in high school.
“Hello, Miss Coraline,” he said, spinning his truck keys around his finger, stifling the frustration still simmering below the surface of his own smile.
“I noticed you just came out of the bakery,” she said, a surprised note in her voice. Brian suspected she remembered his rant about the new businesses at the Grand Opening.
“Yeah. I...uh...got a call from Miss Sweeney. Said she wanted to talk to me about something.” He stopped himself there. If anything, he was even more angry than he had been then. Bad enough that the SOS Committee turned down his request, but now they wanted him to work for one of the people who had been chosen instead of him?
Miss Coraline raised an eyebrow. “Something seems to be bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?”
Brian seethed a few more seconds, gave his truck keys another spin then blurted out, “Why did you and the SOS Committee seriously think I would want to work at the bakery?”
Miss Coraline looked taken aback at his anger. Then she held out a placating hand. “I thought it would work for you. After all, you did take my Home Economics class. You seemed to enjoy the baking.”
That was mostly because Lexi was in it and he’d been eyeing her for a couple of months. But he wasn’t telling Miss Coraline that. “I didn’t exactly pass.”
Miss Coraline gave him a gentle smile. “I understand, but some of the other people needing work seemed more suited to the other businesses. I didn’t have the final say who got on what list, if that’s any consolation,” Miss Coraline said. “But if you don’t want to work at the bakery, you don’t have to.”
“I suppose not,” Brian muttered.
“However, you might as well know the other businesses all have their own list of people to ask and if you don’t take this job, you probably won’t get one with the other stores.”
Not that he wanted to work at a pet store or flower shop either, but it seemed his options were growing narrower and narrower.
“I just need something until business picks up,” Brian said. “I’ve got a few mechanic jobs coming in...” He let the sentence drift off, not so sure he wanted Miss Coraline to know exactly where things lay for him. He’d heard rumors that Mr. Robert Randall was looking for financing. Maybe he was opening the factory again in spite of what Randall had said when he laid them off. But for now, he needed work.
“You’ll have to make your own decision. Pray about it and see what happens,” she said.
Brian released a light laugh. He’d spent a lot of time with God the past half year. Ever since he got his pink slip from Mr. Randall. Ever since he watched the town he loved slowly die off.
“I’ll do that,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I’m sorry, but I gotta run. I’m picking up my grandfather from Concordia. He’s coming for a visit.”
“You say hello to him from me, and I hope to see him around while he’s here.”
“You probably will. He’s been talking about moving back here.”
“Wouldn’t that be lovely?” Miss Coraline said.
“Yeah. Real nice.” The only problem was his grandfather would need a place to stay and that would likely be the house Brian had inherited when his parents died. But Brian was still making payments on it and if Grandpa moved in with him, Brian would need more than the sporadic mechanic work he had been getting to support the two of them.
You might have to take that job at the bakery after all.
He gave Miss Coraline a tight smile. “I better get going. I’ll see you around,” he said, then strode across the street to his truck.
As he drove out of town, he heaved a sigh, his mind spinning in circles, thinking about Melissa Sweeney, her job offer and his own situation.
When Randall Manufacturing closed its doors, he was out of a job. He’d worked as a foreman and had made decent money. Enough that he’d managed to set some aside with the hope of starting his own mechanic shop. He had been working on cars and trucks ever since he could pick up a wrench, helping his father work on farm equipment and fixing up his and his sister’s vehicles. He’d been doing some work on the side with an eye to someday owning his own business. Being his own boss.
After he lost his job he thought that would be the push he needed to get it started. So he’d gone to the bank for a loan. But the bank had turned him down, stating that his down payment wasn’t large enough given the current economic condition of the town.
His hopes had been revived when he’d heard about some mystery person with a large amount of money who was looking to start new businesses in Bygones. That hope had been extinguished in favor of outsiders. The committee was looking for new blood. New ideas.
Why had a local like him, who had way more invested in Bygones, been turned down in favor of someone who wasn’t from here, who couldn’t possibly care about the town the way he did?
Bunch of city slickers like Melissa Sweeney. He gripped the steering wheel of his truck, stifling his humiliation. In spite of his antagonism to Melissa as City Slicker Baker, he couldn’t stop noticing Melissa was an appealing woman. She was the first girl he had felt any kind of attraction toward in a while. In another time and in other circumstances he might allow that feeling to go somewhere. But not now.
He had no job and no prospects.
Nothing to offer her.
Chapter Two
“I may as well warn you—Trent’s mother wants to meet with us to talk about another change to the dessert menu.” Gracie Wilson ran her fingers through her short brown hair, artfully disheveling her cute pixie cut as she blew out a sigh. “And she was talking about adding a tea right after the church service. Said it was a courtesy for the people who attended the service who we didn’t invite to the reception.”
Melissa caught a curious note in Gracie’s voice. “Is everything okay?” she asked. “You seem upset.”
Gracie waved off Melissa’s concerns. “I feel overwhelmed by all this fuss and bother. Mrs. Morgan is all about pink and girlie and I want things simple. I can’t believe how much planning she’s been doing. Plus, I wish we would have kept the wedding on a Saturday, the way I originally wanted. I just think she wants as many people there as possible.”
“A Sunday wedding will be very nice,” Melissa said, putting her hand on the young girl’s arm in a gesture of commiseration. “And if it’s any consolation my mother had been planning my wedding for years. In fact, before she died, she gave me a folder with ideas she collected.”
“I didn’t know your mother was dead,” Gracie said, her voice full of consternation. “That’s so sad.”
Melissa waved off her concern. “It happened five years ago.”
Gracie was quiet, then she leaned forward. “Have you met anyone since you came here who would give you a reason to pull that folder out?”
“I’ve met lots of people,” Melissa said, being deliberately obtuse.
“You know what I mean.” Gracie leaned closer, grinning, her previous funk disappearing behind her usual bubbly personality. “What do you think of my boss? Patrick Fogarty? Isn’t he just a dream?”
“He is good-looking.”
“That sounds like a brush-off. So, have you met someone else then?”
Just then the door opened. When Melissa looked up she had a sense of déjà vu.
Brian Montclair stepped into the Cozy Cup Café followed by an elderly man, tall, slender, wearing a golf shirt and plaid shorts. His hair, a thick shock of white, was neatly brushed and his blue eyes sparkled. He had the same widow’s peak as Brian, the same blue eyes. Melissa guessed this was Brian’s grandfather.
Brian glanced her way, then he hesitated a moment and she wondered if he would come up to her and accept her offer. Instead he turned to the man he was with.
“Grandpa, what did you want to drink?” Brian asked him.
Gracie glanced over her shoulder, then turned back to Melissa, grabbing at her arm, her eyes wide. “Oh. My. Goodness. He likes you,” she said in a stage whisper.
Melissa shot her a frown. “What? Who?”
“Brian. He totally likes you.”
Melissa resisted the urge to roll her eyes but lowered her voice, too. “That man has been nothing but cranky to me, especially when...” She stopped herself there, figuring someone like Brian wouldn’t want Gracie to know about her offering him a job.
But Gracie didn’t catch her vague sentence; instead, she looked back just as Brian glanced their way. Then she turned back to Melissa, her eyes wide with pleasure. “See? He is checking you out.”
“He’s wondering what you’re whispering about.”
“He’s acting like my brothers do when they like someone.”
As a sister of five brothers, Gracie could be considered an expert on male behavior. Melissa, growing up the only child of a single mother, had no such experience on which to base her judgment.
However, she figured she knew how a man would act if he was attracted to someone. The first thing Jason had done when he met her was flirt with her. Then give her his phone number. When they dated, he made her believe she was the only one for him. That he would always be there for her. They talked about starting up a new business together—a bakery in St. Louis. She moved to be with him and make their plans. But just when everything seemed to come together, he left her with her money, her dreams and a broken and disillusioned heart.
Melissa pushed the dark memory aside. She had her bakery now and her own chance to prove herself. Depending on anyone to fulfill her or to support her plans was a waste of time and emotion.
Brian reminded her too much of Jason. A bit arrogant and a bit controlling. No thanks. She was her own boss now, in charge of her business and her heart, and she wasn’t letting anyone in on either one.
Then the door of the shop opened again and Mrs. Morgan swept in.
“Oh, dear,” she heard Gracie whisper as Mrs. Morgan walked toward them, clutching a binder identical to the one Gracie had on the table in front of her.
“Good afternoon,” Mrs. Morgan said. “Sorry I’m late.”
She held out her hand to Melissa, her red fingernails flashing. Her hair, a delicately washed silver, hung in a stylish pageboy around a face that defied her actual age. Her silky brown dress seemed unnecessarily formal for a casual meeting in a coffee shop, but Melissa was slowly learning Mrs. Morgan placed much stock in appearances. She didn’t so much sit down as ease into the chair in one fluid motion. “What have I missed?” she asked, glancing from Melissa to Gracie.
“We were talking about some of the changes you wanted to make.” Gracie’s voice grew small in this woman’s presence.
“Gracie said you wanted to add a tea with snacks for after the service,” Melissa said, taking over, hoping to ease the sudden tension. “However, this will substantially change the cost.”
Gracie spoke up. “I don’t know if my father wants—”
“You don’t have to worry about the money,” Mrs. Morgan said. “I told your father we would cover everything.”
“But—”
“Please. I don’t want to hear about it anymore.” Mrs. Morgan smiled, but the tension around the table had increased.
And when the café’s door burst open, Melissa jumped.
“Melissa,” a worried voice called out. “I need you to come to the bakery.”
Melissa turned to see Amanda scurrying toward her, twisting her apron around her hands, her face a grimace of concern. “The oven quit working and all those cupcakes you put in aren’t baking.”
“Did you call Alan?” Melissa asked, her mind scrambling. “He was the one who installed the stove and oven.”
“He can’t come until tomorrow,” Amanda said. “He’s working in another county today. What are we going to do?”
Melissa bit her lip, her mind racing. The cupcakes were for a conference in Junction City. If the organizers there liked what she had to offer, it could increase business for the bakery and maybe raise the profile of Bygones and the new businesses here.
And Mrs. Morgan was still waiting.
“So the oven won’t go on at all?” Melissa asked, taking care of her first priority.
Amanda shook her head, her brown ponytail bobbing.
“I’ll tell Brian. He’s really handy. I’m sure he can help,” Gracie said, then, before Melissa could protest, jumped to her feet as if relieved to have a reason to escape. She hurried over to where Brian sat with the older man and murmured something to him. Melissa looked away when she saw him frown, but then Brian strode over.
“Something wrong with your oven?” he asked.
“It doesn’t work,” Amanda said before Melissa could protest that everything was fine, which it wasn’t. She didn’t want Brian in her bakery. Especially not after the way he seemed to treat it so dismissively. “Could you come and fix it?” Amanda asked.
“Sure. I’ll have a look at it.”
“It’s fine. We can manage,” Melissa said, holding up her hand as if to stop him.
Brian shot her a frown. “How? Amanda said Alan can’t come till tomorrow. Can’t bake your fancy cakes if your oven doesn’t work.”
Melissa stifled another protest at his blunt assessment of her situation. Much as she didn’t like it, Brian was right.
“Okay. You can come and have a look at it,” she said, relenting.
“Thanks. I think.”
As Melissa held his steady gaze she caught the hint of a mocking smile teasing one corner of his mouth.
Her heart did a slow flop at the sight. Then she caught herself midreaction. Was she crazy? The man clearly didn’t like her or her bakery. Why was she even the least bit attracted to him?
Because, she thought as she strode out of the coffee shop, in spite of her innate need for independence and her burning desire to make her own way in the world, there were times she wondered what it would be like to have someone beside her.
Just not this guy, Melissa reminded herself.
* * *
“So I relit the pilot light.” Brian pushed himself away from the oven and, brushing the dust and crumbs off his shirt and pants, picked up his tools and got to his feet. “The oven should work now.”
It hadn’t taken him long at all to get Melissa’s oven going. The thermocouple wasn’t working so all it took was a quick run down to the new hardware store. Thankfully, Patrick there knew his stuff and had one in stock.
Replacing it was a simple job, but it made him feel useful again. Something he didn’t feel so often these days.
Melissa looked at the oven, then back at Brian as if she wasn’t sure she should believe him.
“Are you sure it will work?”
“Of course I am.”
“Okay.” She turned the knob of the oven, listening.
Brian heard a reassuring whoosh as the gas ignited.
“Great. Wonderful,” she said. “I thought I would have to start all over with the cupcakes.” She turned to Amanda. “Can you get them out of the refrigerator and put them in the oven? They’ll take a little longer to cook because they’re cold so adjust the time by about fifteen minutes.” Then she turned back to Brian with a grateful smile that didn’t help his equilibrium.
Something about this woman made him feel edgy, and he didn’t like feeling that way.
“Thanks again. I appreciate the help,” she said, giving Brian a grateful smile. “So, what do I owe you?”
“Nothing.” He’d only been here twenty minutes and half of that time was spent getting the panels off so he could get at the broken thermocouple.
“No. Really. I insist on paying you. I would have had to pay Alan and you saved my cupcakes. So how much?”
“I’m not that busy,” he said with a shrug. “It’s not like you dragged me away from my job.”
“All the more reason to pay you,” she said. “I’m sure you could use the money.”
Brian felt a sliver of cold slip down his spine. Bad enough that the comment was partly true.
That she was the one to say it only added to the humiliation piling on him the past few days. He thought the final straw had been her offering him a job in the bakery, but this was worse.
He turned away from her and the only sound in the heavy silence following her comment was the hollow thunk of the lid of his metal toolbox falling shut. Then the snap of the clasps.
“I’m good” was all he said, yanking the toolbox off the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean... It came out wrong.”
His only reply was to turn and stride out of the bakery, his booted feed thudding on the floor.
He headed down the sidewalk toward his truck, dropped the toolbox in the back of his truck with a heavy clang, then glanced back, checking for his grandfather.
A couple of minutes later Grandpa came walking down the sidewalk, a frown on his face. He was probably going to give him a reaming out for walking out on a lady, Brian thought, jingling his keys.
He knew he had been rude, but her comment was ruder.
However, as Grandpa drew close, the only expression Brian saw on his features was sympathy. Which was humiliating.
They got in the truck and drove out of Bygones in silence.
When they got home Brian parked the truck in front of the house and turned to his grandfather.
“Will you be okay on your own for the next hour? I need to get some work done.”
Thankfully his grandfather simply nodded and as he headed to the house, Brian went to his already tidy garage to clean up. He really didn’t have any work to do, but he needed some time alone. Time to think.
He rearranged his tools on his worn workbench, then pulled out a broom, wishing for the umpteenth time he had a bigger garage to work in. A truck could barely fit inside the space. He needed room for a hoist and a lift and a much larger space for tools. He could only take on a few small jobs because of the lack of space.
Unbidden came Melissa’s voice and her painful words. “...you could use the money.”
He attacked the floor with the broom, sending what little dust was left flying as he struggled to dislodge the shame crawling through his belly at her words.
And the anger they created.
The ringing of his cell phone pulled him back from his frustration. He looked at the number. It was his old high school friend Kirk.
Kirk used to live in Bygones and work with Brian at the factory. When he got laid off, he and his pregnant wife, Abby, moved to Junction City. Kirk got a job driving a long-haul truck for a trucking company. He’d told Brian, if he was interested, he could get him a job there, too.
“So I called my boss and told him about you,” Kirk said when Brian answered. “Told him you might be looking for a job.”
Brian felt a lift of anticipation. Long-haul trucking wasn’t the kind of job he wanted, but then, neither was working at a bakery, which, right now, was his only other option. “What did he say?”
“The only work he could get is relief work. You’d get a few trips a month, but if you do good with that, you might be able to work it into a full-time position.”
“And how long would that take?”
“Half a year. Maybe more. Depends on how things pick up.”
“I can’t live off those kind of wages.”
“You can’t live off what you’re getting now. But you could totally live with me and Abby.”
Brian glanced over the yard that had been his home since he was born. Large trees shaded the house to his right. Some of them had been planted by his parents when they were still alive. Some by his grandfather, who owned the property when it was still a farm. Ahead of him lay the pasture he and his father had fenced two years before his father died.
He and his sisters had inherited the farm when his parents died. They subdivided the yard site off what was left from the farm. Brian got the house and ten acres. The girls got the money from the sale of the land. Everyone was happy. Though the girls didn’t want to live in Bygones, they were thrilled their childhood home would still be available for them.
When Brian worked at the factory he often imagined the day he would drive back to the house he had grown up in to find his wife waiting for him, their children running down the driveway toward him just as he and his sisters did when their father came back from working the fields. But Brian was twenty-nine now and no closer to the family he had always dreamed of. And now he had no way of supporting this phantom family.
Even if he took this job in Junction City.
“That would mean selling my place. I can’t afford to pay rent and the payments on here.” The thought of selling a place that had been in his family for four generations stuck in his throat. “Let me think about this for a while,” Brian continued. “I don’t want to make a hasty decision.”
“I know, but I’m still telling this guy about you. Send me your résumé and I’ll give it to him. Maybe something else will come up in his branch in Concordia.”
Brian bit his lips, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll do that. Thanks for thinking of me.”
“Hey, what are friends for? I’d love to work together again. Just like old times.”
“Yeah. Like old times.” Brian doubted anything would be like old times. Life was moving on and things were changing.
Brian said goodbye and dropped the phone in his shirt pocket, his thoughts chasing each other around his mind.
Should he take this job? Was he being foolish hanging on to this place, clinging to the hope that Randall would start up the factory again?
Can you turn your back on your childhood home? Your father’s childhood home?
He had to be realistic. Do what needed to be done. If the part-time job turned into a full-time one, then he couldn’t let sentiment interfere with the reality of making a living.
Please, Lord, help me to let go of my worries. Help me to know what I should do.
“Are you busy?”
His grandfather’s quiet request broke into Brian’s prayers.
“No. Just thinking too much,” Brian said, giving his grandfather a wry smile. He grabbed a plastic lawn chair and set it down in front of the garage. “Here. Have a seat.”
His grandfather eased himself into the chair, his hands resting on his bony knees as he looked out over the yard. “Many good memories here,” he said. “I miss this place.”
“Do you regret moving away?” Brian asked, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, his own thoughts still spinning.
“I moved because I couldn’t face the thought of living in Bygones without your parents around. It was hard enough after your grandmother passed on, but after your parents died, I wanted to leave this place behind me.”
Brian’s mind ticked back to that horrible time after the car accident that had killed his parents. He was still working at the plant when it happened, though his sisters had lived away from Bygones for a number of years by then.
Holly and Louisa had always said that Bygones would be a blip in their rearview mirror once they graduated. Both had held true to that promise after high school.
Brian had never understood his sisters’ desire to live in the city. He needed to stay here. He craved the security he got from his job, his community of friends and his faith. He needed the quiet he could depend on receiving when he stood outside and watched the clouds chase each other across a broad expanse of Kansas sky.
He had always wanted to stay in Bygones and raise his family here. That had always been his main goal in life.
Now the promise of a job lay before him.
Part-time work, maybe, and you’d have to move in with Kirk and Abby and move away from here.
The only other option available to him right now was the bakery job. That he even considered it showed him how far things had fallen in his life and his plans.
“That was a hard time,” Brian agreed, pushing his negative thoughts aside. “I understood why you wanted to leave.”
His grandfather sighed. “It was hard. Especially coming so soon after your grandma died. But I think I made my decision to leave too hastily.”
Brian wasn’t surprised to hear the yearning in his grandfather’s voice. Every time Brian visited his grandfather at the home he lived in, all his grandfather could talk about was Bygones.
“You do love it here,” Brian continued. “Lots of memories.”
His grandfather smiled, leaning forward in the chair as he pointed out the apple trees in the orchard. “I remember planting those with your grandmother. We planted the rootstock, and she budded them. Then she tended them and pruned them. Always were her trees. Used to make the best pies and applesauce from them.”
“She loved gardening, didn’t she?”
“Oh my, yes. All the shrubs and plants around this place were ones she put in.” He carried on, telling Brian stories he knew by heart. With each story Brian heard the love and pining in his voice for this place that held so many memories.
He should move back here.
The thought settled into Brian’s mind with a certainty he couldn’t shake off. But he wouldn’t say anything yet. Not until he figured out exactly how he could support them if he stayed.
He watched his grandfather walk back up to the house, pausing at the orchard and smiling. Then he carried on, reaching out to touch the shrubs lining the driveway, stopping to stoop over a blooming dahlia, looking up as crows danced and darted on the gentle wind.
He belonged here. That much Brian knew.
You could take that job in the bakery. Then he could stay.
Brian cringed at the thought, but at the same time the idea wouldn’t leave him. His options were growing narrower and narrower.
He blew out a sigh, his practical mind fighting with the vision he’d had of his life. Never, in any iteration of his thoughts and dreams, had working at a bakery been part of that.
Even as he sorted things out, he sensed with each passing minute he edged closer to the decision he couldn’t avoid.
Behind all of those thoughts came another chilling one. He would be working with Melissa.
Who would be his boss.
Chapter Three
Brian stood in front of the bakery early Saturday morning, hands planted on his hips as he looked at the gold swirly logo on the window. This was it. His last chance.
As he pushed open the door, his mind flashed back to the last time he was here.
“You could use the money.”
Melissa’s words still stung but the problem was, she was right and that was why he was here.
He swallowed his pride and stepped inside the bakery, a buzz above his head announcing his arrival.
He glanced around the inside, his eyes ticking over the wooden shelves covering the wall to his right. They were filled with loaves of freshly baked bread lined up haphazardly, as if someone was in a rush to put them out.
The glass cases to his left held cookies, squares, cupcakes and stuff he didn’t even recognize but figured he would soon.
A movement in the back of the bakery caught his attention and then, there was Melissa, wiping her hands on a towel, a welcoming smile on her face.
That faded when she saw him.
Great beginning, he thought.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her voice polite but cool.
His throat closed off as the words stuck, but he forced them out.
“I need to talk to you. About the job.”
Melissa frowned, her head tipped to one side as if she wasn’t sure who he really was.
“If it’s still available, that is,” he added.
“It is. For sure.” She wiped her hands a bit more, then laid the hand towel aside. “When can you start?”
As if he had anything else going in his life.
“Now.”
She hesitated. “As in right now?”
“I thought you needed help.” Dread clutched at his stomach.
“I do. I do...” She caught the side of her lip between her teeth, as if thinking.
“Did someone else get the job?”
“No. Not yet. I have to talk to Mr. Eversleigh yet.”
Brian wasn’t sure what that was about, but he was surprised at his relief.
“I can start Monday if you prefer,” he said.
“No. May as well start right now.” Melissa brushed her hands over her apron and gave him a polite smile. “Come into my office and we can get some of the paperwork out of the way and get you started.”
Brian fought down his hesitation.
It’s only until something better comes along, he reminded himself.
Once that happened, he was out of here.
He followed Melissa into the office, feeling as if the walls were closing in on him. She sat down and pulled some papers out of a drawer.
“Fill these out. Let me know when you’re done and we can go over the basics.” Her words were clipped and Brian suspected she was about as willing to hire him as he was to work here.
Oh, this was going to be fantastic.
But he only nodded at her, then took the pen she handed him and started filling in the blanks.
Ten minutes later he was done. He left the papers on the desk and walked to the back of the bakery.
Melissa was dumping some flour into an industrial-sized mixer. She looked up when he came in. “Done?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
Great conversation. This was going to be just swell.
Melissa wiped her hands again, then walked past him to the front of the bakery, stopping at the front counter. “I thought you could start with taking care of customers, stocking the cases and organizing the stockroom.”
“And baking?”
“I take care of that,” she said, a brusque note in her voice.
“I thought you needed full-time help.”
“I do, but for now you can start with this.” She leveled him a narrowed gaze. “I hope that’s not a problem?”
Brian held his hands up. “No problem. I just figured I’d have to be making cupcakes or some such thing.”
“I like to be in charge of the baking.” She said it with such a firm note in her voice, Brian pegged her immediately.
Control freak. Not that it mattered to him if he didn’t do any baking. This job was strictly a fill-in.
“This is the cash register, obviously,” she said, changing the subject. She pointed to a machine sitting on the wooden counter at right angles to the display cases. “People can pay cash or use their debit or credit card.” Melissa demonstrated, her fingers flashing over the keys. Brian tried to keep up but figured he would find out by trial and error how the thing worked.
“I’ll be in the back most of the day and when I’m not, Amanda is around. She comes at noon and stays for the afternoon. She knows how to run the cash register, too.”
Melissa gestured at a chalkboard on the wall behind her. “This is a list of the prices of the goods. I also have a master list of what I’ve baked for the day in the back. When the stock gets low, check the list first to see how much we need compared to how much we make on average.”
Melissa pointed out another checklist, rattled off some more information about stock and overages, words spilling out of her mouth faster than oil out of a busted hydraulic hose.
“Hey, Miss Sweeney,” he said, holding up his hand to stem the verbal flow. “You’re throwing too much at me too quick. Why don’t we take this one step at a time? Let me learn as I go.”
“Okay,” she said, her gaze flicking away from his. “I’m usually in the back so I’m available.”
“Good. Then I’ll start with memorizing the price list.”
Melissa nodded, then, avoiding his eyes, walked to the supply room just off the front of the bakery.
Brian blew out a sigh as he looked around the front of the bakery. Well, this was it. His new job. And from the way Melissa was acting, it was as if she wasn’t too impressed with having him as an employee either.
As Miss Coraline said, God moves in mysterious ways.
“One other thing I need from you,” Melissa was saying as she came out of her office carrying a bag. “You’ll have to wear this.”
Brian opened the bag, pulled out an apron with broad pink-and-white stripes, then stared at Melissa in dismay. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Melissa gave him another pinched-lip look and he stifled yet another flicker of humiliation.
“Looks too small,” he said, grimacing as he held it up.
“I had ordered a couple extra because I had assumed if I hired someone I would be hiring...” She paused, shrugged.
“Another woman,” he finished for her. He blew out a sigh and slipped the top loop of the apron over his head. The bottom of the apron, instead of coming to his knees like hers did, hit him midthigh. Well, his indignity was complete. God was definitely trying to teach him humility.
It’s for Grandpa.
“I can order another one.”
“No. I’m good.” As he knotted the ties at the back he couldn’t help think of the phrase “tied to a woman’s apron strings.” That was him. “So, what do you want me to start with?”
“You could start with them,” Melissa said as the door of the bakery opened and two men came inside. “I’ll be in the back if you need me.”
He held her gaze for a heartbeat, then turned to his first customers of the day. His heart sunk as Don Mankowski and his ever-present friend, Jake Fry, stood in front of him.
Don was almost as tall as Brian but heavier. He wore tight T-shirts in all weather to show off the muscles he worked diligently to maintain. His short cropped black hair made him look tougher than he really was, but Don was all about presentation.
Jake was shorter than Don, not as heavily built, blonde where Don was dark and not as full of swagger and self-importance. A decent guy but too attached to his sneering buddy.
Jake and Don had played football with Brian in high school and had also worked at the factory, albeit under him.
Don elbowed Jake as he tilted his rounded chin toward Brian. “Well, look who’s serving up pastries. Our old boss, Mr. Montclair.”
Jake gave Brian a lopsided grin. “Hey, Brian. Didn’t expect to see you here.”
Didn’t expect to be here, Brian wanted to say.
“So, this is your new job,” Don said with a smirk. “Suits you. All this sweet and fancy stuff.”
“What can I get you guys?” he asked, tamping down his own humiliation.
Don pulled a face as he looked around the display cases, then the bread racks. “You out of doughnuts already?” He shook his head, tut-tutting. “You snoozing standing up?”
Brian recognized the comment as a jab he gave Don from time to time when Brian found him slacking off. His back stiffened but he knew he couldn’t let this guy get to him.
“I doubt that. Melissa said we were well stocked.” But he walked behind the display cases to make sure.
Don was right. They were out of doughnuts. Great, his first minute on the job and he had already messed up.
“I’ll be back,” he said.
Melissa was cracking eggs into a large mixing bowl on a stand.
“We’re out of doughnuts,” he said, unable to keep his annoyance with Don out of his voice.
Melissa brushed some dough off her chin with her shoulder, then frowned at him. “We’re not out of doughnuts because I don’t make them.”
“What? Really?”
“No. I thought I would try a different direction with the bakery.” She hit a switch and the huge paddle of the mixing bowl started spinning around.
Brian could only stare at her. “Everyone expects doughnuts at a bakery. That’s not a good direction.”
Melissa’s expression darkened. “I think I know best what I’m trying to accomplish in my own bakery.”
Now she was getting all uppity with him. One of those “her way or the highway” bosses. He’d worked under a couple of them in the factory.
He also knew sometimes you just needed to push.
“I’m sure you do, but the other bakery we had here always had doughnuts.”
“And where is that bakery now?” Not hard to hear the chill in her voice as she turned the mixer off.
Brian just stared at her, then spun around and walked away. “No doughnuts today,” he said to Don. “But I got some amazing ‘petty fours’ you could try.” He couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
“Nah. I prefer something I can bite into. Guess you don’t get our business today,” Don said, tossing off a wave. “Don’t get your apron dirty.”
Brian drew in a slow breath as he watched them leave. Just fantastic. Now it would be all over town. Brian Montclair wore an apron. A pink-and-white-striped apron.
Awesome.
But now it was quiet in the bakery and he needed to do something. He walked over to the wooden shelves and straightened the loaves of bread. Once he was done with that, he glanced down at the floor, noticing the crumbs there. Guess Melissa and Amanda were too busy baking to clean up. He strode to the back of the bakery, looking for cleaning supplies.
Melissa was dividing some of the mixture she had made over a set of four baking pans sitting on a scale. “Something I can help you with?” she asked as she looked up from what she was doing.
“Nope,” he replied, still fuming at Don’s “lady boss” comment and Melissa’s previous attitude to his suggestions.
He grabbed a broom and dustpan from the cleaning supply room and walked past Melissa without a glance her way.
He swept the floor in the front, again taking out his frustration with a broom. What kind of bakery doesn’t carry doughnuts? City girl and her fancy cakes and pastries that cost too much. Not so good for business in a town where people were struggling to get by.
He made short work of cleaning the floor, then strode to the back again, returned the broom and came back with a spray bottle of window cleaner. He wiped down the front of the display cases, surprised at how many fingermarks were on it. Wasn’t Amanda supposed to take care of this?
Guess it was his job now.
The rest of the day went by with fits and starts of work. Some people came in to simply look, a few more to buy. He wasn’t terribly busy, but he wasn’t too bored.
But as he worked he was far too aware of the woman fussing away in the bakery behind him.
Just get over it, he thought.
By the time the day was over, his feet were sore from standing on the concrete floor and his temper hadn’t improved much. He had to keep reminding himself why he was doing this. For Grandpa.
Sunday was a relaxing day. He and Grandpa walked around the yard, making a few plans, reminding Brian again of why he was putting on a fancy apron come Monday. Next weekend they were going to Concordia to move his stuff back here.
When he arrived at the job Monday morning, Melissa wasn’t working at the large butcher block counter, nor was she in her office. He followed the sound of a machine and found her in the back of the bakery twisting a bag of bread and clipping it shut.
She started when he came in. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the machine.
“Bread slicer.”
“How does it work?”
She frowned at him as she set the bagged bread on a large rack already holding a number of loaves and plucked another unsliced loaf from the rack on the other side. “I guess you could learn how to run this,” she said as she dropped it into a slot on the top of the machine. It wasn’t too hard to hear the reluctance in her voice.
Control freak, he thought again.
“I guess I could,” he returned. “Not much happening right now.”
She shot him a frown, as if she wasn’t sure what to make of his comment, then, to his surprise, stepped aside. “You set the bread here, push this button, wait until it comes into this chute and slip a bag over top. Hit the release button and then twist the top and put a clip on.”
Brian followed her instructions, the noise of the machine precluding any other conversation, crumbs flying from the blades cutting the bread. A few seconds later he had a bag of bread closed off and ready to put on the rack.
“Good,” she said, sounding surprised that he had caught on so quickly. “That’s good.”
“I’ll do the rest,” he said, setting the loaf on the rack and grabbing another one. “You go bake some petty fours.”
She looked like she was about to protest, then with a shrug, she turned, leaving him to his job.
The work was tedious, but it kept him busy and soon he had all the loaves done and was wheeling the full rack to the front of the bakery.
As he set the loaves neatly on the shelves, the door opened again and their first customers of the day stepped into the bakery. Brian turned to see a young woman and little girl enter. He tried not to flush as he recognized Lexi Ross, a girl he had dated in high school. Her long blond hair, green eyes and narrow features had made her the darling of Bygones and the epitome of Midwest wholesomeness. Now she and her husband, Wilson Ross, lived with their three children in a two-story Victorian off Granary Road.
Lexi gave him an awkward smile as she glanced from him to his apron to the loaf of bread he still held. How the mighty have fallen, he thought, remembering how he used to tell her he would one day be his own boss, run his own business.
“What can I help you with?” he asked, unable to keep the gruff note out of his voice.
Treena Ross, six years old, her short blond hair like dandelion fluff around her round face, looked up at him, then back at her mother. Her lower lip quivered and her green eyes welled up with tears. “He scares me, mom,” she said. “Why is that big man working here?”
Lexi gave Brian an apologetic grin, then crouched beside her daughter, her full skirt brushing the floor. Her hair fell over her face as she bent her head toward her daughter, lowering her voice to assure her. “He’s a nice man. That’s Mr. Montclair. You saw him yesterday at our church, remember? Now why don’t you ask Mr. Montclair what you came here to do?”
Treena sniffed, palmed her tears off her cheek then held up a piece of paper. “Can you sign my perdition?” she asked in a small voice. “I want the school to stay open so I can go there. Like my mommy and daddy did.”
Brian frowned as he took the paper from the little girl. “What do you mean, stay open?”
Lexi brushed Treena’s hair away from her face and gave Brian a despondent look. “We got a letter from the county school board saying she and her brother, Phil, will be bussed to Concordia School, over an hour away, when school starts. They are thinking of closing down the school here in Bygones.”
“Close down the school? Why?”
“Budget cutbacks,” Lexi said. “They don’t think they have enough money to keep it open this year.”
Brian fought his frustration and anger. What was happening to his town? Why were things going so badly?
He looked at the little girl, trying to imagine her sitting on a bus for more than an hour instead of walking to school like so many children in Bygones did. As a kid he used to take the school bus, but in the summertime he and his sisters would bike from their home on the edge of town, enjoying the freedom of their own transportation.
“I’ll sign your petition, Treena.” He pushed himself to his feet and pulled a pen out of a jar sitting by the cash register. He scribbled his signature, then handed the paper back to Treena. “I hope the school doesn’t get closed down. Let me know what happens, Lexi,” he said as he straightened.
“What’s going on?”
Melissa stood behind him, a frown puckering her forehead, her arms folded over her chest.
And why was she frowning at him now?
“Lexi and Treena wanted me to sign a petition but I’ll get right back to work,” he said with a hint of asperity. Before she could say anything he grabbed the empty bread rack and pushed it, wheels squeaking in protest, to the back to finish his job.
* * *
Melissa watched Brian go, biting back a sigh. His second day on the job and he still exuded resentment. This was not going well. Saturday she had hoped to talk to Dale Eversleigh about helping her with another list of prospective employees and then Brian came walking into the bakery. For a moment she had been tempted to rescind her job offer, but she didn’t dare. She was the newcomer to Bygones and the SOS Committee held the strings and dictated the terms of her loan.
So she had, very reluctantly, hired him. And, it seemed, he was just as reluctant to work here, which made her wonder why he took the job.
She wasn’t sure whether she needed to talk to him about his attitude or wait and see if it changed. At least he knew how to work. She was still surprised he had cleaned up the front so well on Saturday and was willing to learn how to bag bread today.
As she turned her attention back to the little girl named Treena, she thought of how kind Brian had been to her. He was a puzzling study in contrasts, that’s for sure.
“What did Mr. Montclair mean when he said he hoped the school didn’t close down?” she asked.
Treena held up her paper again. “I have a perdition here—”
“Petition,” Lexi corrected as Melissa stifled a quick smile.
“Petition,” the little girl corrected. “I thought people in town could help me and sign my paper. Maybe I could give it to the school board and they would change their mind.”
Melissa glanced at Lexi, who gave her a “what can I do?” smile. “It was her idea so I said I would accompany her to the various businesses. It can’t hurt.”
“Of course I’ll sign,” Melissa said. As she added her name and signature to the paper, she noticed Brian’s above hers. His writing was a large, dark scrawl.
Not unlike the man himself, she thought, giving the girl her paper back. “I hope that helps,” she said with a rueful look.
Lexi placed her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “I do, too. A six-year-old shouldn’t have to sit on the bus for over an hour to get to school.” She gave Melissa a quick smile, then glanced over at the display case. “While we’re here, I’d like to try some of the new pastries I’ve heard some rave reviews about.”
Melissa’s heart warmed at the compliment. “Sure. What would you like?”
“I can deal with the customers.”
Brian’s gruff voice behind her gave her a start, but she shook her head. “No. That’s okay. I don’t mind.” She turned back to Lexi.
Lexi glanced from Brian to Melissa as if unsure who to talk to.
“I want a doughnut,” Treena piped up, obviously not caring who she needed to deal with.
“Sorry, honey. I don’t have any doughnuts,” Melissa said.
“Wow. They must be amazing if you’re out already,” Lexi said.
“I don’t carry doughnuts.”
Lexi looked taken aback and Melissa could almost feel Brian’s smirk behind her.
“I’m aiming for a different product line,” Melissa said, trying not to sound defensive. “Something less traditional.”
“Okay. Then I’ll have a half-dozen white chocolate blueberry scones and a dozen toffee crunch cookies.”
“Coming right up.” Melissa turned to put on her plastic disposable gloves and almost ran into Brian standing right behind her, gloves already on.
“I said I’ll take care of this,” he growled. “You go bake your little fours or whatever you call them.”
She held his steady gaze, his eyebrows lowered over his deep-set eyes, and felt the tiniest frisson of fear. Then she dismissed it. She would not be intimidated by an employee, but at the same time she sensed he was not backing down.
“Okay. I’ll be in the back,” she said with a forced smile, knowing she would have to talk to him later about the boss/employee relationship. If he was going to work here, they needed to keep a few things straight.
After Lexi and Treena left, the bell rang again and a group of people came in. Melissa heard laughter, Brian’s gruff response and more laughter.
She was curious but stayed where she was, not sure she wanted to deal with Brian’s grumpiness any more than she had to.
Quiet ensued, but then another group of people came in. Sounded like women from the voices. More laughter. Melissa knew she should keep her concentration on the new recipe she was working on for Mrs. Morgan.
She corrected a few of the amounts, but her inquisitiveness got the better of her and she stepped away from her table, peeking around the corner to see the front of the store.
Two women stood by the display cases, quizzing Brian about the products and teasing him.
“I guess your Home Ec classes are finally getting put to good use,” one of the women, a tall brunette, was saying. She fingered her long hair, giving Brian a flirtatious look.
“I just got a job here because I kneaded the dough,” he said with a wry tone in his voice. Melissa pressed down a giggle at his unexpected humor, but neither of the women seemed to catch the double entendre.
“I never thought I’d see the day a woman put an apron on the rough, tough Brian Montclair,” the other woman said, her green eyes flashing behind a pair of heavy rimmed glasses, her hair a mass of dark curls springing away from her narrow face.
“Now, now, Anita, I’m not that helpless. I put this apron on all by myself,” he said, joining in on their laughter.
“So is this your new calling?” Anita asked, wrapping her arms around her narrow frame, giving Brian a flirtatious look. “Baking cupcakes and squares?”
“I don’t care to do any of the girlie baking stuff,” Brian returned. “That’s Miss—”
“City Slicker’s job,” Anita finished for him. “I heard you call her that after the Grand Opening. After all the grumbling you did there about the new businesses I never thought I’d see you working at one of them.”
“Well, as Miss Coraline always said, the Lord moves in mysterious ways. His wonders to perform,” Brian returned with a tight smile. “Speaking of wonders, Trudy, you have to try this apple pastry.”
“I’ll take half a dozen,” Trudy replied.
“Only half? Your husband and kids will have half of them eaten before Sunday comes around,” he said, putting six more in another box.
“Always were a smooth talker,” Anita said, adding a wink. “Have you been turning your charm on the owner of the bakery, Miss Melissa City Slicker? She’s single. Pretty. She reminds me of Tracy, one of your many old girlfriends.”
Melissa knew she should get back to work, but for some reason she was suddenly curious about Brian’s romantic history.
“Miss City Slicker is nothing like Tracy,” Brian retorted.
His cutting words bothered her more than she cared to admit, as did the mention of many old girlfriends, but just as she was about to go back to her recipe, he turned.
Their eyes held a moment and, in spite of his caustic tone and in spite of what he had said about her, she couldn’t look away.
For a moment she had felt a flicker of jealousy that these women could elicit what she couldn’t.
A genuine smile.
Chapter Four
“Brian, can you come to the back a moment? I just got the strangest letter,” Melissa called out.
It was Tuesday afternoon, his third day on the job, and though the work still was uncomfortable to him, he felt like he was getting a handle on things.
This morning he had bagged bread again and had cleaned up the bread mixer. The morning hadn’t been really busy, but business had been steady.
“What could you possibly have received in the mail that has anything to do with me?” he asked, looking up from the full cookie tray he had just set in the display case. He brushed his hands over his apron as he straightened. Melissa’s frown deepened and Brian knew he had stepped over the line again. Didn’t seem hard to do with his new boss.
“According to this letter, I’m supposed to read this aloud to you and Amanda,” she said.
With a shrug of resignation Brian followed her to the back part of the bakery.
Amanda stood by the smaller mixer, measuring flour into the batter. When she looked up from what she was doing, her expressions was as confused as Brian’s.
“So what’s up, Melissa?” she asked, turning off the mixer and going to the sink to wash her hands. “What’s with the mini meeting back here?”
“I got a letter from the benefactor, the person with all the money. It came yesterday. I’m supposed to read it to you both.” She cleared her throat, took a breath and began.
“Dear Melissa, Amanda and Brian—”
“He or she knows who is working here?” Brian interrupted. “I only started Saturday. That’s creepy.”
“Maybe he or she is part of the SOS Committee,” Melissa said with a shrug.
Brian doubted that. Who on the committee would have access to the kind of money this person had been throwing around? Mr. Randall? If he did, why didn’t he put that money into the factory?
“‘Melissa, congratulations on your new venture and the work that you’ve done so far,’” Melissa continued, resting her hip against the butcher block work counter. “‘I want to encourage you as you try to expand the scope of the bakery and find ways to bring new business to our town.’”
Melissa wrinkled her nose at that comment. “Easier said than done, Mysterious Benefactor,” she muttered.
“Doughnuts would help,” Brian said, folding his arms over his chest.
Melissa shot him a caustic look.
“Seriously, about one third of the customers who’ve come in the past couple of days have asked about doughnuts.”
“I’m aware of the lack of doughnuts. I used to serve the customers, too.”
“Just sayin’,” he said, holding up his hand.
“Always sayin’,” she returned.
Brian held her steady gaze, wondering why she had hired him. Of course, it wasn’t like he was the most willing employee.
I do my work, he reminded himself.
Melissa returned to her letter, then paused, tapping her finger against her lip. Then she shot Brian a puzzled glance that held a hint of humor.
Now what?
“‘Brian, it wouldn’t hurt for you to lighten up a little. Smile occasionally. Working in a bakery isn’t only for women. There’s a long history of famous chefs and bakers being men.’”
“You’re making that up, City Slicker,” Brian snorted.
“It says it right here,” Melissa returned, holding the letter toward him, her eyes narrowing at his City Slicker dig. “You can read it for yourself.”
Brian waved off the offer, though he was sorely tempted. “I’ll believe you.”
“Whoever wrote it is right,” Amanda said, tossing the towel she used to dry her hands over her shoulder, her blue eyes piercing him. “You’re not always so nice to Melissa.”
Brian didn’t reply to that. Melissa wasn’t always so nice to Brian either.
“Moving along,” Melissa said. “‘Melissa, I want to commend you on making such a drastic change from baking at a hotel in the big city of St. Louis to your own bakery in the small town of Bygones. Amanda, you’re doing good work, but it is important to show up to a job on time.’”
Amanda reared back. “Who is this guy? Santa Claus keeping track of who’s been naughty and nice?”
“How do you know it’s a guy?” Melissa said. “Could be a woman.”
“It’s got to be someone from the town. Someone who’s been in the bakery,” Amanda said.
“That’s not been many people,” Brian replied, thinking of how quiet the bakery had been this morning. He’d spent half of his time cleaning up and tidying the storage room holding the bulk supplies.
“It’s picking up,” Melissa said, sounding defensive. “That’s why I hired you.”
“Even Ellen Langston stopped in to buy some of Melissa’s tarts this morning,” Amanda said, leaping to Melissa’s defense like a mother hen defending her chicks. “And one time I heard her saying there was no way she would set foot in here when she could bake herself.”
“Good for her,” Brian returned, crossing his arms over his chest. “But it’s still been quiet.”
Melissa pursed her lips at his comment. Brian just shrugged. Nothing he could do about the facts. He kept busy, but business wasn’t exactly booming. He wondered if Melissa would be able to keep him hired.
The thought sent a sliver of dread through him. Though this job hadn’t been his first choice, it was a paycheck that he needed right now.
“Maybe it’s Miss Ann Mars who has all the money,” Amanda said.
Brian shook his head. “Doubtful. She can’t make that much selling secondhand goods.”
“She could be, you know, like, a miser?” Amanda said. “I saw someone like that on a TV show. They lived like they were all poor and stuff but they had a box full of money shoved under a board in the floor of a room.”
Brian shrugged. “A miser wouldn’t be throwing money around like this person has. Besides, Ann Mars is far from a miser and you know it, Amanda True.”
“Maybe Miss Coraline,” Amanda persisted. “Maybe she inherited a bunch of money no one knows about.”
“That’s a lot of money to keep secret.”
Brian didn’t want to know who handed out the money. If it was someone he knew, he was afraid he would have a target for the resentment that clawed at him from time to time. He still didn’t understand why out-of-towners like Miss City Slicker here got chosen over someone like him who knew Bygones and the people who lived here.
He dragged his hand over his face, as if to erase the emotions. Until his mechanic work took off, he didn’t have much else going on in his life.
“There’s no sense trying to figure out who handed out the money,” Brian continued. “He or she seemed to have some strange ideas who to give it to.”
Melissa shot him a frown and looked like she wanted to say something when the bell over the door announced a new customer, giving Brian the perfect reason to leave the back room and let Amanda and Melissa get back to their work.
Whitney Leigh, reporter for the Gazette, Bygones’s official newspaper, stood just inside the bakery, her bright eyes behind her glasses flitting around the room as if looking for something she wasn’t finding, her bun like a tight knot at the nape of her neck. She had a camera bag slung over one shoulder and a tape recorder in her hand. Her tailored blazer and narrow skirt looked out of place in a town where most people wore the first thing they grabbed out of the closet, but Whitney liked to look put together. In charge. In control.
“Hey, Brian,” Whitney said when her eyes alighted on him. “I heard you were working here.”
“Hardly worth putting in your paper,” he said, unable to keep the prickly note out of his voice. He could already see the potential picture and accompanying article. Brian Montclair, former mechanic, now baker, complete with pink-striped apron. “What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to talk to Melissa.”
“What about?”
Whitney shrugged. “Just some questions about Mr. Moneybags.”
Brian turned to get Melissa from the back where she was working with Amanda, but she already stood behind him, still holding the envelope containing the letter.
“What can I help you with?” Melissa asked, slipping the letter inside the pocket of her apron.
“Just a few questions. I’m doing an ongoing series on Mr. Moneybags—?”
“Who?” Brian asked.
Whitney raised her hand as she took a few steps closer.
“The mysterious benefactor. The guy with the bags of money,” she said with a shrug. “I’m doing an investigative piece for the Gazette.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you,” Melissa said. “And I’m not from around here, so I can’t even begin to speculate.”
“Then I’d like to ask you what made you decide to come to Bygones.”
“It was the opportunity to start a new business. Something I’ve always wanted to do.”
Brian was surprised to hear the pleasure in Melissa’s voice, the satisfaction in her smile.
“And you were given no indication of who the money came from that helped you start this business?”
Melissa shook her head. “Only that it was administered through the SOS Committee, that I had to commit to staying for two years and that I had to hire locals from Bygones. But I had no idea who held the purse strings.”
Which is how he got this amazing job, Brian thought.
At least it was work, he reminded himself. Grandpa was happier than he’d been in years.
Whitney tapped her lower lip with one manicured finger, as if thinking. “I don’t know why Mr. Moneybags is so secretive. Which makes me even more curious.” She flashed Brian and Melissa a grin. “One way or the other, I’m figuring out who this person is.”

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