Promises_Star's Bakery

by Mary Jane Forbes

  Promises

  BAKER GIRL SERIES, BOOK TWO

  Mary Jane Forbes

  Todd Book Publications

  Promises

  Star Bloom opens an envelope to find a promissory note for a hundred thousand dollars made out to her. She checks with the bank only to be told that the anonymous gift was to remain anonymous. Incredibly, Star suddenly had the means to fulfill her dream of opening a bakery. Signing a lease for an abandoned shop on Atlantic Avenue, Daytona Beach, Star learns quickly that money doesn’t go very far when setting up a business.

  Her close friend, Tyler Jackman, a cartoonist, leaves Daytona Beach to join a startup company in Burbank, California. Tyler is torn between his new dream job in the animation industry and his growing love for Star, a beautiful blue-eyed baker girl.

  The minute Tyler leaves Star feels empty. She begins to realize that she is falling in love with the funny cartoon man. But there’s a major obstacle—he’s on the west coast and she’s on the East coast, both dedicated to their future aspirations.

  Pulled apart by events, distance, and life-long dreams, can promises Star and Tyler exchange in the heat of passion be kept?

  Table of Contents

  The Story

  REVIEW REQUEST

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright

  Books by Mary Jane Forbes

  Excerpt: Bradley Farm, Book 1

  Prologue

  STAR SPREAD A LARGE TOWEL on the warm Daytona Beach sand. Breathing in the salty air she gazed out over the horizon. No boats. No body-surfers. It was early. A jogger passed. Then a dog walker. Squinting, she tugged at her pink visor blocking the sun’s brilliant rays. She dropped her yellow shirt, stretched out on the towel in her bikini, hands resting loosely on her stomach. Releasing a long sigh, a feeling of contentment washed over her body, the sound of the surf rolling gently up on the sand.

  So peaceful.

  Charlie’s Diner, where she worked as a short-order cook over the summer, closed yesterday. Her Gran had urged her to take a few hours to decompress before tackling her plans to open a bakery.

  The diner!

  Her lips spread into a smile as she thought of all of her friends, the regulars at the diner. Benny, his wheelchair always giving him fits at the top of the handicap ramp as he struggled to navigate the diner’s front door. Note to self—make sure Benny can roll into the bakery.

  The Butterworth sisters … so much fun with their ever-changing T-shirts announcing a new diet, or new dance class, or new adventure.

  Eyes closed, Star grinned thinking how lucky she was that Jane, who funded her courses in culinary arts at the local college, had frequented the diner for breakfast with her niece and her husband—Liz and Manny, private investigators. Star had known them only in passing, but over the summer the two PIs had helped big time with Ash.

  Ash …

  A brief summer crush? Her heart still skipped a beat thinking about him. But he had moved on, and she doubted she would see him again. They traded emails twice and that was it.

  A scowl crossed her face remembering the filming of the TV reality series—Amateur Bakeoff Competition. She won the bakeoff but lost the money. The fifty-thousand-dollar grand prize never materialized, never awarded to her, thanks to Jim and Stephanie, the competition producers. What charlatans. Although … she was sure the producers didn’t want the pilot TV show to end up the way it did. Still she desperately wanted to win the competition, win the money to finance a bakery business. The dream again elusive.

  Elusive until a mysterious turn of events. Someone, an anonymous someone, left an envelope by the diner’s cash register with her name it. After a busy shift cooking up meat tartlets with cranberry glaze, she had opened the envelope and found a check inside. A check made out to Star Bloom for a hundred thousand dollars. The thought of the check still sent shockwaves through her system. Who was anonymous? She hoped to find out someday.

  She pushed up on her elbows hearing two little girls squeal as a chilly wave rolled over their toes. Sighing, Star turned over on her stomach, her idle thoughts returning.

  The money had immediately turned her life from a downward spiral to a spike upward, sky high. She suddenly had the money to open a little bakery. Her dream-bubble had not been pricked after all. It was still intact.

  Thoughts of the bakery and her to-do list charged into her head. Thank heaven for Mary Bloom, her grandmother. Without Gran, even with the money, Star didn’t think she could pull off a new business.

  She rolled over again onto her back. Umm, the sun feels good, soothing on my skin.

  Tyler …

  Star sat up, hugged her knees as she gazed out at the sparkling surf of the Atlantic Ocean. She missed him. How much she missed him had caught her off guard. The vacant spot he left in her thoughts was overwhelming. The minute he was gone she felt empty.

  The bony cartoonist had captured her friendship the first day she stepped into the diner to apply for the job posted in the window. A close bond developed that never left her … his encouragement, help and, of course, his cartoons. Now he was in California, hired by an animation company with a contract from DreamWorks for a piece of a new animated film project.

  Thinking of Tyler always brought a smile to her lips and a tug at her heart. Even though he promised to come back home for the holidays she wondered if he really could, if he really meant it, if …

  Two tanned Tarzans, surfboards under their arms strolled by. One whistled at the pretty blond in the blue and white polka-dot bikini sitting on the beach towel. He elbowed his friend to take a look. Grinning they darted into the water, began paddling out to find a wave.

  Following in their wake, two children, holding kite strings tightly in their little hands, ran by, kicking up sand. Star smiled, so many adventures lie ahead for those children …

  Refreshed, eager to start her own adventure, Star brushed the sand from her legs, punched her fists through the sleeves of the yellow shirt, folded the towel, and strutted up the beach to Atlantic Avenue to meet Gran. They had an appointment to sign the lease for her new business—Star’s Bakery.

  Chapter 1

  HOT AND HUMID. Reaching the mid-eighties. That was the Daytona Beach forecast.

  Star didn’t give the weather a thought as she inserted the key into the lock. Hesitating, she grinned at Gran standing by her side, grinning in return. The pair knew the condition, the disrepair of the shop on the other side of the door, knew what equipment the previous baker had left. They had just signed the lease and it was now theirs to bring back to life.

  “Ready, Gran? We know it’s messy—”

  “Filthy, dear,” Gran interjected, her grin spreading ear to ear.

  Star pushed open the back door and stepped into the kitchen.

  Yes, it was grubby, but layers of baked on dough, fruit fillings and chocolate burned onto the stove top and oven walls, could be removed with elbow grease, some good old-fashioned scrubbing.

  Before signing the lease she and Gran had tested the stove burners, tested the ovens, switched on the large double refrigerator leaving it running to be sure it cooled properly while they took measurements of the shop’s floor space, the display cases, and windows.

  The abandoned equipment worked—gas flames glowed brightly on the stove top, ovens reached a set temperature as did the fridge. The previous baker shut the doors one night skipping town, leaving everything in place including two display cases. While the equipment worked it was sorely neglected giving the term stainless steel a bad rap.

  The owner of the row of buildings on the short strip mall had received notice from the health department that an inspection would be required before the new renters could open for business.

>   As Star saw it, the equipment meant lots of hard labor but did not need to be replaced, at least not to begin with.

  She had a little more than two months to transform the space into a sparkling, inviting bakery. That was the goal. The grand opening scheduled the Saturday before Thanksgiving ready to sell mouth-watering baked goods including a few European pastries to tease the eye as well as the palate. The goal was also to take orders for breads, pies, cakes and cookies for Thanksgiving and the following holidays.

  Gran quickly stuck magnetic notepads to the refrigerator. To do lists—buy immediately, buy for the opening, buy for baking. Both women pulled on their oldest work clothes—Gran in frayed jeans, Star choosing shorts. Both wore sleeveless T-shirts, and old sneakers.

  Star placed a cardboard box on the floor for their shoulder bags, and handed Gran a small headscarf. Both tied the daisy-covered scarves at the nape of their neck keeping hair out of their eyes and allowing air to circulate over their skin. Gran, no youngster when it came to cleaning, adjusted her scarf, a few silver waves with a diamond patch of black on the left side were left sticking out.

  “I’ll bring in the buckets and mops while you decide where you want to start,” Star said wiping her hands on her shorts. Pausing, she hugged Gran, then strode out to her previously-owned red SUV. “Put a couple of table fans on the buy list,” she called over her shoulder. “The AC doesn’t seem very reliable. We’ll need a breeze.”

  While the end of the summer heat had slipped to the mid-eighties, the mid-September temperature continued to rise along with the humidity.

  Star and Gran worked feverishly, side by side, preparing for the opening of Star’s Bakery in time for Thanksgiving. The most wonderful piece of luck happened a few days after they began the cleanup. Wanda and Charlie Armstrong appeared at the delivery door in back of the bakery. Refreshed from a two-week vacation and antsy for a new project, they asked Star if there was anything they could do to help.

  Laughing with joy to see the former owners of the diner, Star hugged them both, grasped their hands pulling them into kitchen. Gran was in the midst of baking a pumpkin pie to test the oven she had just finished scouring. Seeing Wanda and Charlie, she too beamed with joy, hugging them, exclaiming how well they looked. Wanda happily received the hugs, glancing at the sad shape of the place, and said she could help out at least thirty hours a week. Charlie volunteered his services for a day or two here and there. The vacation had helped him to get back on his feet. His doctor said he could work but to be careful not to overdo. Charlie also offered the diner’s van for hauling supplies. The backdoor still open, Gran and Star looked out at their red SUV parked next to the white van—Charlie’s Diner painted on the side.

  Charlie chuckled. “How about I replace Charlie’s Diner with Star’s Bakery? I know a guy who could have it a rolling billboard for your business in two days. Give me your phone number, and address, and if you have a picture—”

  “Wait, wait. Charlie, I have just the thing.” Star raced through the swinging door into the bakery shop, still grungy. She hadn’t cleaned the shop except for one special spot. On the wall behind the counter was the framed cartoon Tyler drew the day before he left for California—a blond baker girl smiling in front of a display case filled with cakes and cookies, lined on top with jars of taffy.

  “Here,” Star said holding out the frame to Charlie. “Do you think your sign man can transfer this somehow on the side of the van, and then maybe the door of our car?”

  “I don’t know but I’ll find out,” Charlie said taking the drawing from Star. Turning to leave, he called over his shoulder to Wanda. “I’m going to see what Teddy can do with this. Call if you need me. See you in a few.”

  Wanda strolled from the kitchen to the shop. Hands on her hips, she lifted a finger, running it over a thick layer of dust on the top of the glass case, swished the toe of her shoe on the floor. “Star, I need a bucket, sponges, heavy duty Mr. Clean. Unless you have something else with a higher priority, I’ll tackle the shop.” Wanda hightailed it out to the van, yelling at Charlie to stop. She returned with her work clothes including a small headscarf to keep her hair out of her eyes and off her neck. She was now one of the scullery maids.

  Star hugged Gran, both wiping misty eyes. “Gran, can you believe this? We never admitted, didn’t dare, that we wouldn’t be ready to open in two months.”

  “Hey, you two, where’s the bucket?”

  “Wanda, we’ll pay you as soon as—”

  “Who said anything about money? I asked for a bucket and a mop if you have one. I’ll make a list. Can I take that red love wagon out back—“

  “We invested in the basic cleaning stuff when we tackled the kitchen. But, Wanda—”

  “No but Wanda. Charlie and I turned a quick buck thanks to you and Tyler. We figure we owe you. Where is that boy? Still making his fortune in California?”

  “About four weeks now. We text each other every day, sometimes more,” Star said laughing, opening a water closet, pulling out a mop, bucket, and rags. “Anything you need, add to one of the lists on the fridge.”

  • • •

  THE HEALTH INSPECTOR gave them the go-ahead to open, signing the document to be displayed near the back door. Gran took charge of the baked goods having cleaned the shelves, then stocking the ingredients. Star took charge setting up and decorating the shop, writing a press release to send to local news outlets—cable, radio stations, and the newspapers. Invitations were addressed ready to send to family and friends. Star’s only family, other than Gran, was her mom and dad and two brothers in Hoboken, New Jersey.

  While cleaning every square inch of the kitchen and shop alongside Wanda, Star took a break and bought four wrought-iron bistro tables with eight matching chairs. She positioned three inside along the wall. The fourth would be set outside every morning, beckoning passersby to stop for a coffee and pastry.

  Time flew and suddenly only six days remained until the front door of Star’s Bakery would open for the first time. The tempo of activity increased, reaching a high point along with frazzled nerves. Charlie hustled in the back door with four coffees. No one was in the kitchen, filled only with the delightful aroma of breads and cookies baking. Hitting the swinging door with his butt, he strode into the front. His wife was sitting at a little bistro table with Gran and Star. No one was talking. Very strange for three women, three very tired women. He put a large foam cup of coffee in front of each, pulled up a chair and sat.

  Snapping back the spouts in the coffee lids, they took a long drink of the stimulus, sighed, then the chatter resumed in overdrive.

  “We can wait on a bread slicer. Conserve our cash. Don’t you think, Wanda?” Star asked glancing around. She smiled at Tyler’s cartoon. The little baker girl was back in her place of honor, high on the wall behind the glass cases soon to be filled with pastries, cakes, and cookies.

  Not bad. Not bad at all.

  Chapter 2

  Grand Opening

  Star’s Bakery

  KA-CHING! KA-CHING!

  The old cash register pinged merrily as Wanda tapped the keys. The Wurlitzer, along with the cash register from the diner, provided music of a different sort—the register ringing up sales, the Wurly playing Dolly Parton’s rendition of 9 to 5.

  Star’s vision of an old fashioned bakery transported customers back in time. Lace curtains loosely drawn to the side, held back with plaid ribbons tied in a bow, fringed the two picture windows.

  Potted plants and bouquets of flowers from the Butterworth sisters, Benny, Tyler’s mom and dad, and, of course, Liz, Manny, and Aunt Jane—all friends from the diner, wishing Star success in her new venture. A large bouquet of orange, red, and yellow mums in a cobalt-blue vase arrived from Star’s family in Hoboken.

  Star and Gran hoped that opening the week before Thanksgiving might entice holiday hosts and hostesses to visit the new little bakery and they were right. Many women looking for help with their big feast, kids in tow, stopped b
y to check out the shop on Atlantic Avenue. Pecan pie was a favorite—one less thing to worry about on their list.

  Gran commandeered one of the bistro tables where she sat writing up orders like crazy. Pulling Star to the side, she whispered that she was concerned whether they would be able to fill all the orders—time, cash flow, helpers. Their heads together, they decided Gran should keep taking the orders. They’d fill them somehow. Meanwhile, Wanda pushed another rack of breads and pastries from the back to restock the glass cases.

  As the sun set, Star turned on the little white lights lining the picture windows. She had sent a special invitation to the diner’s most regular patrons as well as Tyler’s parents inviting them to take a peek at her new shop. She and Gran expected their friends would drop by soon.

  People stopping by after work to eyeball the new bakery were treated to complimentary coffee and Thanksgiving cupcakes—pumpkin, ginger spice, chocolate, and maple. All were frosted with butter cream icing.

  It was a little after six o’clock, dusk, when Gran tapped Star’s shoulder, pointing out the window. The Butterworth sisters had stopped out front, removing Benny’s wheelchair from the trunk. Hattie and Mattie helped him navigate through the door while Anne parked around back.

  Wanda started another brew cycle of the coffee maker, initially for fifty cups. The party urn was another hand-me down from the diner. Star had baked special cupcakes for the invited guests. A little pilgrim girl or boy, or turkey, guest’s choice, were stuck into each cake placed on the counter next to the coffee setup.

  It wasn’t long before more special guests arrived following the Butterworth sisters and Benny, hugging their diner friends, joking, laughing—it was good to see each other again. When Liz saw the Wurly, she held out her hand to her husband. Manny filled her palm with five quarters. The little bakery was buzzing—ka-chings, Dolly Parton, and animated chatter.