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“Iced mocha.”
She ordered it, plus an extra-large cappuccino for herself, and I took them from her and set them in the cup holders.She paid and thanked the server and we drove away towards the supermarket, where a frantic thirty minutes of shopping ensued.Jenny seemed to have boundless energy, or maybe that was the coffee.We finished in record time.
As she drove back, I called in the order of pastries, blueberry muffins, and bread rolls to the wholesaler, who promised to deliver it tomorrow.We might be a little late opening the bakery, but better late than never.
I slid my phone back into my bag and put my head back, closing my eyes.
“You okay?”Jenny asked.
“I’m just thinking about all the stuff I need to do.”
“Delegate.What needs to be done?”
I opened one eye to look at her.“You’re the hero I need, Jenny, even if I don’t deserve you.I said I’d bring some magazines and other stuff to my aunt, conveniently forgetting that I don’t have a car.”
Jenny pursed her lips thoughtfully.“We can outsource that.Lemme make some calls when we’re back home.You’re in our town now, and we look after our own, okay?”
Everything seemed a little more manageable.“Okay.Thanks.”
She reached over and squeezed my leg.“Anytime.”
I wasreallygoing to miss her.
* * *
Jenny was as good as her word.Within the hour, someone had been sent up to the hospital with a raft of books and magazines, and a phone charger, leaving Jenny and I to prepare for tomorrow’s opening hours at the bakery.
The house was quiet.
Rick had taken Toby out for a couple of hours, so we spread everything out on the solid oak dining table Rick’s father had made.It was gorgeous, and had been well loved through the years, but the knocks and scrapes gave it more charm.My ownflat in London was filled with old furniture I had picked up dirt cheap at car boot sales.
We mixed and shaped and stirred, setting everything out in big plastic trays that we’d take over to the bakery and cook in the morning.We could probably have cooked some of it here, but the whole process would be faster in commercial ovens, and fresher was better for customers, anyway.
Jenny was a dream sous chef.She followed instructions to the letter, and she was a fast learner.I had no doubt that she’d easily find a job once Toby started school.
While she laid out everything in trays and labeled them, I looked through the photos Aunt Laurie had of the wedding cake ideas she’d been sent by the bride.The wedding was next week on the Two Rivers ranch, three miles outside Redwing Falls.
Thankfully,Cake Awayhad only been commissioned for the wedding cake and not a groom’s cake or any extra cupcakes or edible favors.
I’d made wedding cakes before.This one required some fiddly fondant work, but nothing I read sent me into a panic spiral.Phew.
I toggled over to my Instagram page to scroll through comments and see if any needed to be replied to or deleted.Sometimes I got a troll, or someone with a mystery vendetta against me.
Most of the comments were sweet, likemy grandma used to make this cakeorI’m definitely going to try this soon, but there were some darker ones about my split with Seb.
He was too good for you,one wrote, and another,you were always punching way above your weight with him, he can get someone prettier now.
Thanks, internet.You had to love the general public.
Or not.
I replied to the sweet ones and the genuine question ones, and I left the mean ones hanging.They said more about the mentality of the writers than anything about me.I’d learned that after several years of putting myself out in the public domain.
Sometimes it still hurt, though.
The general response from the internet was one of the reasons I loved posting and had done for years, but also one of the reasons I was keen to explore a shop space.
All real people.No internet trolls.
