The oven she could only dream about.
“But I didn’t order an oven.” She crossed her arms.
“It says here you did.” The driver showed her the clipboard. Sure enough, under the line for Buyer it said Fox Bakery.
“There must be some mistake.” She checked the phone number for the company and called them from the kitchen. The rep she talked to assured her that the oven was ordered and paid for.
“If that isn’t the oven you want, we can make it right,” the rep said. “We can exchange it for another one. It was a rush order, so if you’ve changed your mind…”
“No, I’ll take it. I just don’t know how it ended up here. Who does it say ordered it?”
“I can’t tell you that, ma’am.”
“I suppose those things are confidential, but it’s my bakery. I’m the only one who could order it. Unless, did an Elaine or Jim Fox call?”
“No, it’s not for confidentiality. I’ve never seen this before, but the order says ‘Anonymous.’ I guess you just have an enthusiastic fan.”
A very enthusiastic fan. This model was top of the line. In fact, it was the very model she’d been drooling over ever since attending a baking trade show in Germany. Victor had taken her there but had been absent most of the time. She shook off that thought and concentrated on the part of the memory where she’d attended a baking demonstration with the oven model now being connected in her kitchen.
It was a modular rack system with a normal convection-style oven on top, and several rack layers of brick-lined oven on the bottom. She’d be able to bake cakes and bread at the same time and at different temps.
She leaned against the counter and watched as the workmen finished up, thinking of the recipe she wanted to try first. In Paris she had been working on perfecting a complicated baguette but hadn’t returned to it. The oven here had been great for simple breads, but anything that required a specialized baking process had been a no go.
Even Grandma Elaine couldn’t argue with a change like this one.
The men cleared away the packaging, and one of them handed her the owner’s manual.
“The warranty information is in the back,” he said. “You’ll want to register the machine right away. You should be good to go, but if you have any troubles, there’s a help line number in there too.”
She thanked him and walked with them to the door. She’d flipped the Open sign off when the men arrived, and she turned it back on now. Wendy wouldn’t be here today, and she hadn’t thought she could handle customers while the kitchen was in disarray.
Out in the parking lot, a plow truck scraped away the inch of snow that had accumulated during the night. A light snow was still falling, and that stray black-and-white cat was out scampering in it.
She turned back to the kitchen. Opening the manual, she began the process of firing up the new oven. The front doorbell dinged. “Be right with you!”
A moment later the kitchen door swung open. “I hope you don’t mind if I let myself back here. I’m here for my shift.”
Sammy. He had little snowflakes clinging to his hair and scruffy cheeks, a dusting across his shoulders. They glinted in the light, giving him a sparkle.
“I don’t mind at all.” Robin gestured to the oven, which now put out a radiant heat. Or maybe that was her heart, which had begun beating a step or two faster. “Look at what was just delivered this morning.”
“Hey! Look at that! A working oven.” He walked toward it. “I hope you don’t get in trouble with Grandma Elaine.”
“I think she’ll come around. Look! It’s brick lined—perfect for those dark crusts you get on European breads. If that doesn’t win her over, nothing will.”
“What about this top part—is it a convection oven?”
How did he know about that?
She searched his face. As she stared at him, he began to blush and wouldn’t meet her eyes. Then she remembered the strange conversation about her oven catalog. “Sammy Johnson, what do you know about this oven?”
He shrugged. “I’m no oven expert.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Do you know how this oven got here? My dream oven? The oven I’ve been drooling over for a year? The perfect oven for breadandcake?”
He widened his eyes. “Dream oven?”
“Don’t lie to me.” Robin propped her hands on her hips. “I can see right through your innocent act. Did you call my grandparents or something?”
