by Lois Richer
“Panning out? What’s that?” Miss Partridge asked.
“It means taking out the frozen pieces of dough we’ll be using and doing whatever we need to prepare them for baking,” Joy explained. “Then they go into the proofer overnight. It’s like a moist, warm cubicle that promotes even rising. They’ll be ready to bake early the next morning while our other scratch products are rising.”
“Sounds very, uh, organized.” Sam’s disappointed expression made her giggle.
“It is. Not what you we were imagining, dear?” Grace made a face at him.
“I was thinking more about jolly bakers with red cheeks and high white hats hand-preparing everything from scratch and then passing it out as samples,” Sam mourned.
“How stereotypical.” Joy laughed as she shook her head. “I don’t have enough staff or oven space to do that yet. So for now we’ll supplement our scratch baking with frozen. But we’ll add our secret touches so it will be like no one else’s. You’ll see,” she promised with a wink.
With Clara’s departure, Sam’s brothers arrived bearing the pizza and two big bottles of soda. Joy’s children had disappeared downstairs earlier, so it took only moments before everyone else followed. They were soon seated around the table. Drew said grace before they dug into the steaming pies.
“The first meal in your new digs.” Sam tilted back in his chair and glanced around.
“This space has a lot of—um, possibilities. Doesn’t it, Sam?” Miss Partridge’s eyes twinkled as she studied him.
Joy laughed.
“What’s so funny about that?” Sam demanded, looking from one to the other.
“That’s who made my bakery possible, remember? That company called Possibilities. I wish I knew how to thank them.” Though slightly confused when the Calhoun brothers exchanged a glance that no one seemed inclined to explain, Joy shrugged it off. “My mind is bubbling with ideas for this place. It will be interesting to see how they mesh with your festival events, Sam.”
“It sure will.” He finished his drink, accepted the children’s thanks for the pizza and then began clearing up the mess.
“Oh, I forgot you have that meeting tonight.” Grace moved quickly. Before Joy could pitch in, the brothers were wiping the empty tables with damp paper towels.
“Aren’t you going, too, Grace?” Surprised when her friend shook her head, Joy let her gaze rest on each one of these special people. “Thank you so much for your help. Please let me pay for the pizza.”
“Consider it our welcome to your new business, Joy.” Zac grinned. “Know that you can count on our support.”
“A lot of support,” Drew agreed, licking his lips. “I myself am waiting for your first batch of doughnuts.”
“I’ll save you the first dozen,” she promised.
“Or two,” Sam shot back with a smirk.
Within minutes the three men had brushed off her thanks and hurried away to dump hundred-pound bags of flour into two rolling bins and the sugar into a matching container. Then Drew and Zac left.
“The bins are a really good idea,” Sam mused. “I wonder if Dad could use something like them for feed, so he’s not always lifting heavy sacks.”
“There’s an old one out back that’s dented. Also, one wheel doesn’t work,” Joy told him. “If you think the dents could be pounded out and the wheel repaired, you’re welcome to it. We have enough here.”
“Thanks.” He dragged on his jacket before pausing. “You okay to lock up and get home?”
“In my almost new van?” She preened for a moment. “More than okay.”
“Then I’m off to my meeting.” He thanked the kids for their help and told them they’d done a good job.
“Let me know what you need me to do, Sam,” Grace reminded him.
“Sure will.” Then he was gone.
Funny how the bakery suddenly seemed so quiet, so empty.
“It was nice of them to buy us pizza, wasn’t it, Mom?” Josh asked.
“Extremely nice.” She hugged the kids. “You guys are amazing helpers. And you, too, Grace.” She smiled at their proud faces. “Now, I have a couple of things to do before we can go home. You can help me or you can do homework or read.”
They all voted to help. After rearranging the tables and chairs in front of the massive covered windows, ready for folks to sit and enjoy a treat and a drink tomorrow, four sets of curious eyes rested on her.
“Now what, Mommy?” Becca wondered when every table sparkled and the old but sturdy chairs gleamed.
“This is a bakery. I need to try the ovens so we don’t get a surprise tomorrow. Let’s bake.” Thanks to the giant floor mixer and Grace’s able assistance, Joy soon had a huge batch of shortbread cookie dough mixed up. All three children donned aprons and plastic gloves before they began cutting out stars, Christmas trees, bells and bows.
“We’ll need decorations,” Grace reminded her.
“Right here.” Joy opened a many-lidded tray. “Put some in a small bowl so you don’t get the whole batch messy, kids.”
The kids laughed, worked and generally had a ball as they took great care with their cookies. When a baking sheet was filled, Joy slid it onto one of the revolving shelves in the big oven, relieved that according to the thermometer, the oven held its temperature perfectly.
“What a blessing this place is, God,” she murmured as she closed the door. “Thank you for providing it.”
“It is a blessing,” Grace agreed from behind her. “And you are a blessing to Sunshine, too. You and Sam.”
At the mention of his name, Joy’s cheeks grew warm. She turned away to fiddle with some cooling cookies, hoping to hide her discomfiture.
“You like him a lot, don’t you?” Grace sighed as she perched on a nearby stool. “I so envy that.”
“You envy me? Why?” The despondency in the other woman’s eyes saddened Joy. She wished she knew how to help her friend.
“You probably think it’s silly, but I’ve always wanted to find someone special, a man who’d make my heart quake. Someone who would fill the void in my life.” The older woman half smiled. “Everyone thinks I’m just a dowdy librarian who’s read too many romance novels. But I so long to share what’s left of my life with someone.”
“Are you thinking of someone local—” Joy stopped midsentence when Grace shook her head once, firmly.
“Over the years I’ve considered most of them,” she admitted. “And since they’ve come back to the ranch, Drew and Zac and their wives have tried to help me find someone, too.” Her sigh came from deep within. “But God just hasn’t seen fit to send me anyone. I guess I’ll have to face the fact that I may never fall in love.”
After that it seemed to Joy that Grace lost her zest for baking shortbread. They worked together for a little while, but eventually her friend looked so weary that she urged her to go home and rest.
“I’m sure Sam will be hunting you down for something tomorrow,” she said, wishing she knew a man who would suit this lovely woman. “I’ll pray God sends you a real prince,” she whispered as she let Miss Partridge out the front door.
“A prince would be nice, but so would an ordinary man who fell in love with me.” Miss Partridge hugged her. “Thank you, dear. You’re very kind. Good night.” She waved to the kids and then disappeared into the darkness.
Caught up in baking with her kids, Joy pushed away thoughts of Miss Partridge’s predicament until later. But she wasn’t as successful at dislodging thoughts of Sam and that reminded her of his many comments about the building’s newest upgrades. A new outlet installed, a special exhaust fan placed on the ceiling over the fryer that would take care of any fumes from frying doughnuts. He’d shown her the bakery’s rejuvenated dishwasher and its modified operational system, too, something Clara said wasn’t here during her previous employment.
Now Joy
wondered how it was that Sam knew all these things about a place he said he hadn’t seen for years. Things like the roof’s newly installed gutter system that even the hardware store owner, Marty, hadn’t told her about.
“Must be a man thing.” A buzzing timer forced Joy to shrug off her questions as she rescued the browning shortbread.
Tonight was for enjoying God’s gift of time with her kids. Hopefully, tomorrow the bakery would be so busy, she wouldn’t have time to think about anything but filling customer orders.
As if she could stop thinking about Sam.
* * *
“Joy’s son Josh has been asking me about your bowls, Dad. The ones you left on display in the log house.” Sam sat in his car with his phone on Speaker, waiting for his committee members to arrive for their meeting.
He smiled, visualizing his dad’s shoulders pressed back with pride. Woodworking was Ben’s passion.
“Oh? What’s he want to know?” his father asked.
“It seems like he already knows a lot, though I think it’s mostly book knowledge,” Sam replied. “He asked if he could watch you sometime.”
“You bring Josh along anytime, Sam,” Ben said eagerly. “I’d like to teach that young man my favorite hobby. I’d like to get to know Joy a little better, too.”
“Yeah, we’ll have to get everyone together soon.” Sam wasn’t going to commit to anything that had to do with Joy.
“She’s special, isn’t she, Sam?” Probing questions were his father’s specialty.
“Joy? Yes, she is. Very.” How could he steer his dad away from this path? “But I told you. I’m not looking to get involved romantically.”
“Because of Celia,” Ben stated.
“Partially. But mostly because this just isn’t a good time,” he said. “There are too many unresolved issues for me at the moment.”
“You’re hedging, Sam. I’ve noticed you do that during our little Bible studies, too. You say you want to build a closer relationship with God, but it’s like you can’t quite commit.” Worry edged the sober words. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
“I can’t, Dad. I can’t talk about it. Not yet. I just have to—wait, I guess.” So not your strong suit, Mr. Smart Alec Reporter.
“What are you waiting for?” his dad pressed.
“The end of what I started in the Middle East,” Sam mumbled.
“Any idea of the timeline on that?” Ben responded.
“None. That is what’s so frustrating. But I appreciate your counsel, Dad. And that you don’t keep pushing me for answers I can’t give.” His father had always been a patient man. Sam wished he’d learned more of it.
“There’s a verse in Isaiah that fits this occasion. ‘They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength,’” Ben began.
“Yes, I remember. ‘They shall mount up with wings as eagles,’” Sam replied. “‘They shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk and not faint.’ Guess I need to keep running, right, Dad?”
“Yes, but more importantly, it seems to me you need to keep waiting on the Lord, as you’ve been doing,” Ben encouraged. “Keep trusting Him to work things out. Even though you may not have heard or seen any results, that doesn’t mean nothing’s happening over there. God has ways and means of getting things done that that we can’t even begin to imagine. Our part is to let Him do it.”
“Thanks, Dad. It’s been so great to have you counsel me on faith. I got a little adrift when I was over there—lost my bearings, you could say.” Sam winced at the truth of that.
“And you’ve found them now?” his dad asked.
“Not completely. But with your guidance, I think I’m at least getting my feet on the right path.” That sounded weak, Sam admitted to himself.
“I know you’ve got that meeting tonight and you’re probably ready to head inside for it, but I want to say one more thing.”
“Go ahead, Dad. I’m listening.” Sam focused on what was to come.
“Don’t try to recapture the faith you had, son. I know that sounds odd. But the faith you had was for yesterday, last year, different circumstances.” Ben cleared his throat.
“I’m still listening,” Sam murmured when the silence stretched.
“The faith you’re building now will be different. It has to be because you’re in different circumstances. You’ve grown and changed. You want different things.” Ben’s voice softened. “Don’t be afraid when your old faith doesn’t seem to fit your life now. It shouldn’t. God is changing you, growing your trust in Him.”
“But—” He stopped and let his dad continue.
“There will be lots of buts, Sam. Lots of things you’ll have to look at with a new perspective. Let Him open your eyes to what could be and forget about what was, including Celia. Let go of what you can’t change. He’s making you into a new person, His person. God has big plans for the man you’re becoming, son.” Ben’s words died away in the quietness of the car.
In that yawning silence, Sam considered what his dad had said.
“Thank you,” he murmured, deeply moved.
“Welcome. Now get into that meeting. Your mother and I will be praying,” Ben assured him.
“Your praying has always been the best part of having you both for my parents. Bye, Dad.” Sam hung up. He sat for a few minutes, trying to tuck the wise words into the recesses of his mind to think about later. A tap on the window roused him.
Joy. She must have decided to join tonight’s update meeting.
His heart grew light and happy at seeing her smiling face.
He’d have to think about that, too.
Chapter Seven
“You want us to hold what?” The entire planning group gaped at Sam.
Joy hid a smile as she glanced around the room, mentally cheering, Go, Sam.
“Outdoor movie nights.” He chuckled, looking completely at ease amid their disbelief. “In the square. Friday and Saturday nights until Christmas. That backdrop of spruce trees will make a perfect place to put up a sheet or something for a screen.”
Joy noticed how many of the festival volunteers struggled to keep straight faces.
“Movies? Outside? In the middle of winter?” the mayor asked in dismay.
“In the cold, dear?” Even Miss Partridge’s expression conveyed concern.
“Unless the temperature really drops, yes.” Sam grinned. “We’ll bring risers from the fairgrounds for seating. We can advertise for folks to bring blankets and—”
“Yes! And if people come without blankets, Maisie Crane can fill a booth with those lovely comforters she makes and sell them,” Miss Partridge interjected, her smile wide.
Trust Miss P. to jump on board. Joy appreciated the woman’s spirit more with each encounter.
“Another idea. Maisie might also agree to sell some of those fleece blankets the town bought three years ago. They were supposed to be sold for publicity purposes, but never were,” the former librarian reminded everyone. “Such a shame. Anyway, we could give them away. Or sell them for cost. Either way Sunshine would get free advertising when our guests take them home.”
“Hey, those blankets cost us a lot of money!” Evan Smith bellowed, obviously irritated at the suggestion. Joy wasn’t sure why he’d bothered to show up tonight. He’d been no help at all.
“They did cost a lot, Smith, and you’re the one who insisted the town buy them. Like those two hundred mugs you insisted council buy when you were mayor. We didn’t pay for that stuff to sit on some shelf in the town office, unused!” someone else hollered. “Why don’t you pitch in and help here, instead of knocking every idea?”
“Mugs. Oh, my, yes. We’ll need those.” Miss Partridge clapped her hands together in delight. “For the hot chocolate we’ll serve at the movies, of course,” she elucidated for those who stared at her. “Joy could have on
e of her staff circulate with some lovely gingerbread and shortbread cookies for sale, too. Couldn’t you, dear?”
“Of course.” Joy nodded, delighted by the way Miss Partridge expanded and built on the simplest ideas.
“But—it’s ludicrous,” Evan sputtered. “It’s winter!”
“So? These ideas are innovative and fun, totally different from anything this town has ever tried,” Marty from the hardware store called cheerfully. “Great concepts. What else have you planned, Sam?”
“I’ve got a whole list of things we could try. Here are a few.” Sam clicked his computer mouse and a colorful presentation illuminated the wall. “The festival will begin Wednesday evening with a simple snowman contest for all age groups. Only we’ll provide the articles used to decorate those snowmen. They will not be the traditional hat and carrot nose usually seen in pictures.”
Laughter bubbled up when he winked. Sam was so great at this. Joy wondered why Evan and his buddies couldn’t get on board with the festival.
“We’ll follow the snowman contest with a wiener roast, during which our mayor will cut the ribbon and officially declare the opening of Experience Christmas. Then he’ll talk about events that will lead up to our Christmas Eve potluck.”
“Ooh, I like that idea,” someone else in the crowd called. “People of all ages will show up for a ribbon cutting just to hear what’s planned. As business owners, we can capitalize on that by running kickoff specials.”
“Great idea.” Sam consulted his list again. “On Thursday, the high school students will show off their ice-carving abilities in the town square. Their art teacher tells me they’ve been practicing that. Then we’ll invite anyone who wants to try it. We could offer a prize—maybe an ice-fishing outfit? At the same time, we’ll hold a pizza party contest for younger kids, at the hall because I’ve been told the work will be finished by then,” he added quickly, before someone could ask.
“And Friday?” Miss Partridge’s face almost glowed with excitement. “What shall we plan for Friday, dear?”