“Jacob, come here. Look at this cake. What a clever idea to use chocolate wafer cookies as the pawns.”
Jacob took two steps closer to the cake. “Very nice.”
Not very chatty, this one.
“Oh! I just had a brilliant idea. Do you do wedding cakes?” The woman’s eyes sparkled with excitement.
Um. “Depends on what you’re looking for.”
“Jacob and I are getting married on Valentine’s Day. Isn’t that romantic?” She clasped her hands together.
Robin smiled in agreement.
“Well, we just got engaged, and every place we call says that they need more time than five weeks.” The woman looked at Jacob, and he nodded in confirmation. “But since you are just starting to make cakes, maybe you aren’t already full. Would you make our cake?” The woman looped her arm around Jacob’s and leaned toward Robin, the brightness in her eyes palpable in close quarters.
Robin did some quick calculations. Most bakeries would never accept a commission so close to the event. But the woman was right. She was just starting with the cake biz and didn’t have other orders waiting in line. Plus, one wedding cake could practically pay for the plumbing all on its own. This would keep her skills sharp, and she wouldn’t have to call Grandma and Grandpa for help. Less stress for them, more practice for her.
Win-win.
She reached out a hand. “You have yourself a cake baker.”
The woman grasped her hand and gave it a firm shake. “I’m Emily, by the way. Emily Lindstrom. And this handsome guy is Jacob Pine.”
“Nice to meet you both.” Robin couldn’t help the pang that tweaked her heart at the warmth with which Jacob looked at Emily. “Should we plan to look at cake options at the beginning of next week?” Emily and Jacob agreed and gathered their things to leave.
The couple exited as Wendy entered. “Oooh, pretty cake,” she cooed as she spotted it in the display. Wendy was the daughter of Dan and Ellie Matthews. Tall, with long brown hair, she looked just like a younger version of her mom. Wendy had worked for Robin’s grandparents through high school and now picked up longer shifts between her online college classes. “Are we doing cakes now?”
“Temporarily.” Robin held up her hand to stave off a wave of questions. “I just want to keep my hand in it.” No need to tell Wendy about the money problems.
“I can’t believe how great this looks. You are talented.”
Victor would have called the cake a mess. That man was more of a perfectionist than she was, but she was proud of how it’d turned out. And with Victor, it wasn’t that he thought she was so untalented but that he couldn’t stand competition.
“Thank you. If anyone asks, I’ll be making at least one cake a day, with rare custom orders. That should be doable. I may need to have you pick up a few more shifts though.”
Wendy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “No problem. I have some extra time before my classes start again in February. Seriously though, I knew you had skills, but, girl, this is awesome.”
The compliment lit a spark inside her. One she would love to fan into a blaze. But practical matters came first. “Be careful in the kitchen. Mack was in and fixed the pipes, but I think some of the floorboards are rotten. I’m working on a plan to get them fixed and to replace the damaged cabinets.”
Robin stepped back from the case and looked at the cake again. It did look great in the display case.
It would look even better on the cover of a magazine… No. Best not to go there.
Now she just wanted to be able to bake delicious things and hold down the fort here until her grandparents were back. Besides, she couldn’t make big changes to the bakery. Grandma had made her promise not to, and she intended to stick with that promise.
* * *
Exercise always cleared his mind,except for today. Today his mind buzzed with questions he didn’t want to face.
Sammy wiped the sweat off his brow with a fuzzy towel. The weightlifting bench beneath him grew warm from his workout. He sat in the exercise room at the headquarters building for the Deep Haven Crisis Response Team. A team he barely belonged to anymore. Sure, the guys kept him around to answer phones sometimes, but not being able to drive put a damper on including him in rescue missions.
Hopefully he could get through this workout without his legs giving out. True, they had been strong enough for the physical therapist to release him from care. But would that last?
“Hey, Sammy, don’t you hold the record for the power snatch in weightlifting?” Seb Brewster called from the treadmill, his breath coming in short bursts. His tall, lean form seemed made for running.
“That was a long ten years ago.” Sammy had been on the football team at the time. His coach had encouraged him to enter a few weightlifting competitions to improve his game. He’d developed a knack for the power-lifting move known as the snatch. An explosive move, the snatch had an athlete squat, grab a bar fitted with weights, then stand quickly, lifting that bar up and over the head, maintaining the position for a heartbeat, then lowering the weighted bar to the ground. Not only had the move improved Sammy’s overall strength but he’d found it’d improved his mental quickness too. A quickness he could use about now.
A move like that needed legs he could count on.
