AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And with that, she dashed behind Grace’s truck, across the parking lot, and up the stairs of a sleek black tour bus.
That was awful.What do I do? I can’t keep singing her songs.
It didn’t matter. She couldjust behave like every other food truck and sell her pastries.
But a seismic shift took place inside her, and she knew that was not the answer.
The whole point of being here is to make money, and if singing brings in the customers, then you bet I’m going to sing.
But the secondary reason she was here? To live her passion.
It wasn’t like she’d ever get to do it again.
The Singing Baker it is.
It amazed Grace, one week into this gig, that she wasn’t exhausted. In fact, she was more energized than she’d ever been.
At twenty-two, when she moved out of her parents’ home, no one could believe it. Why live in a tiny apartment when she could be surrounded by her brothers, her parents, and all the friends and family who constantly dropped by?
At home, there’d always be a hot meal, a fresh batch of almond biscotti, and someone to talk to. All good points, and she adored her family, but she needed her own space. It was when she was alone, when her mind was quiet, that her creativity crept out from its hidey-hole and did a happy dance.
So, the tiny cabin? It let her imagination run wild. Even after a long day on her feet and a never-ending line of customers, she still looked forward to baking at night. The response to her pastries had been phenomenal, and every day she had to bake more and more to keep up with the demand.
She couldn’t believe how much money she’d made in just seven days. She’d even upped her prices to try and slow down sales, but it hadn’t worked.
It made her giddy to know she’d created something people loved.
Every night, as soon as she got home, she showered off the smell of fried food, grabbed a quick bite to eat, and got busy. Tonight, she planned on making a whole collection of lovely petit fours. Maybe in a woodland theme—each one could be a different furry animal.Cute.
Pulling into the driveway, she punched in the code, and the massive iron gate swung open, allowing her to pass underneath the Dupree Ranch sign. Heading up the long, winding road, she was pulled from her thoughts when she noticed flashlights arcing in big swoops around the property. She rolled down the window of the car Joseph had loaned her for the summer and heard, “Kinsley? Come on, girl. Where you at?”
“Kinsley!” a deep voice shouted.
Grace braked and cut the engine. As soon as she got out, she caught up with the nearest search party. “Everything okay?”
“Kinsley took off again.”
“Oh, no.” She shoved her keys into her pocket. “How can I help?”
“You know the ranch?” one of the guys asked.
“No. I’m afraid I don’t.” With moonlight filtering through a cloudy sky, she could barely make out the silhouettes of a house, a couple of barns, sheds, and the row of cabins nestled against the tree line. Beyond what she could see lay the pure darkness of pastures, hills, and then the national park.
A chill ran down her spine when she thought of the little girl out there alone.
The man clearly caught the tension in her expression. “It’s okay. We’ll find her. She does it all the time.”
“At night?”
He shrugged and took off, leaving her unsettled.
She couldn’t just go back to her place and pretend like a six-year-old—Jaime’sdaughter—wasn’t out there. She had to do something. Turning on her phone’s flashlight, she scanned the immediate area. Her first thought was maybe Kinsley had gone for more pastries, so she headed to her place.
But she didn’t see lights on at hers or any of the other cabins.Where are you, Kinsley?
Woodsmoke scented the cool, crisp July air as the search team called the little girl’s name. Flashlights swooped like seagulls near the shore, and she got a glimpse of the barn door ajar, the metal lock dangling.
Is that normal?Wouldn’t you lock up a barn at night?She had no idea, but what could it hurt to take a look? The soles of her chef clogs crunched over gravel as she hurried over. Inside, she smelled hay, dust, and the earthy scent of horses. The clouds had shifted, allowing shafts of moonlight to cut through the windows, making a Harlequin pattern on the hay-strewn ground.
