Grace Sutton
stared at the check Tony had left on his way to the city. She’d been so
involved with setting up the shop for the day’s business she hadn’t had a
chance to look at the amount. She reached for her cell phone and dialed his number.
Moments later she heard his voice.
“Are you out of
your mind? ” she asked.
He laughed.
“Not today.”
“The check.”
“Is for the
cupcake display at our wedding.”
“It’s too much.
I gave you a fair quote.”
“And you’re
doing this at your busiest time of the year. Consider any extra as a bonus. Oh,
Lauren said to use some of the money for new tires for the van.”
“I will.”
“Soon, I hope.
Sorry you can’t make dinner and the play on Saturday night.”
“Too much to do
here. Like figuring how to finish all the holiday orders to be filled. I need a
plan. Also choosing a selection for you to taste on Sunday. Then there are the
books.”
He chuckled.
“See you Sunday. You are your plans. I have a friend who plans his time step by
step, too. What do you do when the plan nosedives?”
“Reassess.”
She hung up and
stared at the check. Enough to buy the supplies for next month and to consider
hiring a part-time baker. She jotted notes for an ad.
Another idea
occurred. Bonnie, her clerk, was interested in learning about decorating. There
were two girls at the group home who might like to work Friday evenings and
Saturdays. The money they earned could help them save for when they aged out.
Pass the
opportunity forward. She’d learned to cook at the home. The high school home ec
teacher had encouraged her to try for a scholarship allowing her to attend
culinary school.
“Coffee’s
ready,” Bonnie called.
Grace left her
office and joined her clerk. She filled a cup and sipped. “Perfect.”
Bonnie pointed
to the empty space in the display case. “We need refills.”
Grace carried
her mug to the office, finished most of the brew and entered the kitchen.
Before opening the gleaming cooler, she donned gloves. She handed Bonnie a tray
of cinnamon bun cupcakes, the steadiest seller. She carried a tray with three
chocolate varieties. Chocolate Milk, Chocolate Heat and Chocolate Mint. “How
are the Candy Cane, Winter Snow and Ginger Houses holding out?”
“We’re good
there.”
While they
stocked the shelves several customers arrived. Grace joined Bonnie in filling
orders. When the rush ended Grace went to the kitchen to make several small
batches of cupcakes she wanted for Sunday’s tasting. She set the trays in the
oven to bake. Mingled aromas soon filled the air.
Working
automatically, her thoughts drifted to the coming wedding. Though happy for
Lauren, Grace felt a tad envious. She had dreamed of finding her own special
love. Years ago, she’d thought she had found him but he’d disappointed her the
way most people in her life had.
She’d been
almost sixteen. He’d been two years older. Tall with dark hair and dark
chocolate eyes. He’d been labeled a “bad” boy but beneath his smoldering anger
she’d seen sadness and grief. She’d dreamed about him, spun fantasies until the
day he’d climbed over the fence separating the two group homes. He’d kissed her
and in crude terms told her what he wanted. She’d turned him down.
He had laughed.
“Your loss.”
She thought,
“not mine. Yours.” Grace’s hands tightened. She couldn’t stop the roll of
memories from the past from forming. Drunken screams and laughter. Her mother
and her guest for booze, drugs and sex appeared. Grace had vowed to have a
different life but she feared the seeds had been planted years ago. She
wouldn’t be like her mother. Could she hold this determination?
A buzzer
sounded. Grace pulled on her long padded oven gloves and removed pans of
cupcakes from the oven and placed them on the multi-tiered cooling racks. She
filled more pans and started the cycle again. When the second batch cooled she
entered the sales room. The number of empty spaces made her grin.
In a small way I’m a success. She prayed
nothing would happen to poke holes in her ballooning confidence.
For a moment
she considered the offer from Good Eatin’ Magazine. She’d been tempted but
afraid. Growing too fast would see her dreams hurtling downhill in an
avalanche.
Bonnie grinned.
“Been a good morning and afternoon. Five orders for the holidays and look at
the empty spaces.”
Grace looked at
the clock. “Go to lunch. I’ll handle the front.”
“Want me to bring
you something?”
“I brought a
sandwich from home. I’ll eat when you return. This afternoon I plan to tackle
the fruitcake recipe again.”
“How many times
have you tried?”
“Maybe
fifteen.” Grace pointed to the door. “Goodbye.”
“Yes, boss.”
Moments after the
door closed behind Bonnie, the chimes announced a customer. Grace turned. Her
hands tightened. Charlene? Why?
The bleached
blonde sauntered to the display case. She ran a finger over the glass. “Good.”
“What?”
“There are
plenty of cupcakes. Mama needs two dozen. She’s entertaining some friends this
afternoon.”
Tension gripped
Grace’’s shoulders. Her foster sister had been a bully years ago. “What about
the dozen I gave you last night?”
“The girls
raided the pantry. Mama is so angry with them she’s going to punish them. I
figured you would find a way to stop her.”
Charlene’s
nasal voice made Grace’s stomach clench. She’d been fortunate when she’d lived
at the group home never to face Mrs. Paton’s punishment. Lauren had too often
been given meticulous cleaning chores and too often Charlene’s lies had been
the cause.
“What do you
want?”
“The cupcakes.”
Charlene tapped the case with a blood red fingernail. “You owe Mama for taking
such good care of you. You should make her a partner in the bakery.”
Grace shook her
head. She owed the Paton’s but she’d given them money again and again. “Which
ones?” She opened a large box and filled it with the other woman’s selections.
The bleached
blonde carried the box to the door. “See you at closing time.”
Grace drew deep
breaths. The group home had been a safe haven where she’d escaped her childhood
fears. She’d learned to file nightmares in a mental storage block. Now she
needed to discover a way to end the need to constantly repay the people who had
saved her.
*
* *
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