CHAPTER FOUR
The dimly lit bakery and the dark backdrop outside indicated the early hour. Traffic had not yet begun to accost the city streets, and the sidewalks were devoid of pedestrians.
After the last pedestal was cleaned, Wynn sat it back down on the counter in-between the tiered cupcake holder and a pewter tray, usually used to display an assortment of scones.
“There, all we need now is to fill them,” Wynn said to herself. The buzzer went off, signaling the baked goods for the display were finished and the gingerbread cakes and Christmas pie were ready to bake. Wynn hurried into the kitchen, mentally checking off an invisible “To-do” list for the day. It was the twenty-third of December, the last day open before they closed for Christmas and returned the twenty-seventh. They would be slammed. But over the course of the last five years, Wynn had learned what to expect for sales and baked accordingly. Christmas cookies were obviously a huge seller, as were any kind of pie and holiday flavored cakes, and even her gourmet cupcakes. Other items, like scones and muffins didn’t do as well, only selling to people who wanted a treat with their coffee on their way out the door to give them sustenance to finish their last minute shopping. The bulk of the work came from the holiday orders they took and doled out, but combined with the list of usual store front items, it was certainly a challenging task.
Wynn reached the kitchen and opened the large, stainless doors of the industrial oven, and began removing the hot trays of muffins and scones, placing them on a rack to cool. The back door creaked, opening with a blast of icy wind and a flurry of snow. Wynn glanced in the direction of the chill where Gemma rushed in, stomping her boots on the black throw rug to knock off the packed snow.
“Late as usual,” Wynn said, turning and handing her a cup of coffee.
Gemma screwed up her face and took a drink, then removed her heavy winter coat, better suited for the Michelin Man, and hung it on the rack by the door. “Only a sadist gets up at four in the morning to come to work and bake all day.” She blew her bangs out of her eyes and glared at Wynn, who chuckled and waved her away.
“We have a ton of orders this year, even more than the last. We have to get them done, along with the stuff to display and sell in the store to last minute customers expecting to be able to walk in and buy desserts for Christmas. And since you made me agree to catering the desserts for Zane’s work party, we have double the usual work load,” she said through a tight smile.
Gemma scoffed. “Oh, come off it. Like you don’t want to see Zane outside of this place. He’s not going to come here forever you know. Someday, he’s going to find himself a wife, one that’s not afraid to go after him and admit what she really wants. Since you’ve ignored his advances all these years, he’s going to eventually stop trying and succumb to said woman, which will then, consequently, cease his visits here. How do you explain why you, so religiously, come to a bakery with two of the most attractive women in town and flirt with the owner with lust-filled eyes?”
Color rose to Wynn’s cheeks. “First of all, he doesn’t look at me with lust-filled eyes…” The thought of Zane married, however, sat in the pit of her stomach like rotted fruit.
“Your opinion only,” Gemma said, her eyes downcast below arched brows. “Besides, business is business. How can you turn down a good gig? He paid you in advance, and now your name will be out there for all of the big wig’s attending this party to see. Chances are you’ll get more work from it down the road.”
Wynn sighed. Gemma was right.
With a knowing smile, Gemma stepped forward and rubbed Wynn’s arms, her voice softening. “We’ll get it all done—don’t stress—we always do.”
