‘Yes, Ed.’ Maddie’s smile was wistful now. ‘I was the girl next door.’
‘That’s incredible.’ He let out his breath on a whoosh of surprise.
‘And your father asked me to marry him when I was just twenty.’
This surprise silenced Ed completely.
Maddie, however, seemed intent on sharing her story. ‘I thought I’d had enough of living on an apple orchard, so, although I was sweet on Gerry, I turned him down. I’d set my sights on bigger things, you see. I headed for Grand Rapids where I managed to get work as a doctor’s receptionist, and I married the doctor’s son. He was a med student about to graduate.’
Ed’s mind was racing, taking this in, putting two and two together. He couldn’t help thinking that Maddie’s departure from the farm must have prompted his father’s exit to New York. His father had been in his early twenties when he secured his first job in insurance in Manhattan. After that, he’d studied hard and become an insurance broker and he’d worked even harder to build his business.
Now, tears brightened in Madeleine’s eyes as she watched Ed. And the truth of her message dawned in him like a starburst.
When this woman rejected my father, he built his empire to show her what she’d missed. Cavanaugh Enterprises was all about her.
‘You’re the love of my father’s life,’ he said softly.
Maddie nodded. ‘So he tells me.’ Her mouth twisted as she tried to smile, and then she pressed two fingers to her lips as if she was stopping herself from crying.
Eventually, she said, ‘Human beings are strange creatures. Sometimes we spend an entire lifetime looking for happiness in all the wrong places.’
Indeed. Ed was thinking of his father’s three unhappy marriages, and his throat tightened on a painful rock of emotion. ‘Did Dad ask you to tell me this story?’
Maddie smiled more warmly again. ‘He wanted you to know...but you know what a proud, stubborn and uptight coot he is. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you.’
That would be right. His father had never been able to express his finer feelings, or to talk about emotional topics. But he must have found the courage to say the right things to Maddie.
Ed was truly amazed by the fond warmth that flooded Maddie’s face as she spoke about his dad, even when she was calling him an uptight coot. She was either a very good actor or she genuinely loved the ornery old guy.
‘So how did the two of you meet up again?’
‘Gerry heard that my husband had died. He waited a year, and then came to Michigan to find me.’
She said this so simply, but it told Ed a great deal about the strength of his father’s feelings. He felt shaken. Moved. Happy and sad at the same time.
‘How do you feel about living in Manhattan?’ he asked, forcing his mind to practicalities.
‘Actually, we’re looking for a place in Connecticut.’ Maddie held out her wrinkled, sun-spotted hands, free of nail polish. ‘Gerry and I both want somewhere with a nice garden.’
‘Dad wants a garden?’ Ed couldn’t imagine his father pruning or weeding, couldn’t picture him stopping to smell the roses.
Maddie smiled. ‘If you don’t believe me, you can ask him. Here he comes now.’
CHAPTER TEN
‘ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY sure you wouldn’t like me to stay tonight? I’d be happy to hang around on the off-chance that you need help in the morning.’
It was late on Sunday afternoon, the eve of Milla’s opening day, and this was the second time Heidi had offered to stay. Milla was beginning to feel bad about turning her friend down, but she knew Heidi couldn’t continue to help on a regular basis, so until the business grew this was something Milla had to learn to manage on her own.
She felt confident that she was ready. She’d experimented with dough mixtures and she’d worked out her quantities for water and yeast as well as the timings and temperatures. Already, sourdough loaves were prepared and quietly proving in cane proving baskets. The pastries for the croissants were prepared and in the fridge. Huge bags of flour were lined up beside the big dough mixer. Every bakery surface and piece of equipment was scrupulously clean.
Tomorrow, as well as the sourdough, Milla would make white, wholemeal and mixed-grain bread loaves and buns. Once the bread was baked, she would make three kinds of meat pies—plain steak, steak and onion, and curry.
She’d decided that she would only make one or two sweet things each day to begin with. Opening day, chocolate brownies and fruit scrolls would be the stars.
Every time she thought about the shop filled with fragrant golden loaves, she felt excitement rise like steam inside her. She felt good about doing this. She really did. She knew deep down that a thriving bakery could be an important step in Bellaroo Creek’s revival, and she truly wanted to see this town return to the happy, busy place she’d known in her childhood.
She wanted shift workers knocking on her door at six-thirty in the morning, wanted children calling in on their way home from school, hungry labourers lunching on her pies, families making her festive cakes part of their celebrations. Her goal was to see the bakery become the community anchor it had been in her parents’ day.
Last week, when her parents had rung from Venice, Milla had finally told them what she was doing. Long ago, before she’d rebelled and left town, it had been their dream to have their only daughter join them in the bakery and carry on a family tradition. So it had felt weird to make this announcement all these years later.
Milla had closed her eyes and held her breath while she’d waited for their reaction, which was, admittedly, slow to come. But once her parents recovered from their shock, they told her how proud they were. They’d rung twice since to repeat this message, and when they arrived back from their cruise they were rushing straight to Bellaroo Creek to offer her any help or advice she might need.
Having her parents onside was important, but Milla also knew she had the goodwill of others in the town. She was encouraged by clear messages that the people of Bellaroo Creek wanted her business to do well. So she felt OK about this venture. Truly OK. And she finally convinced Heidi of her certainty over an afternoon cup of tea and slice of experimental brownie.
After Heidi drove off, with a wave and a final farewell hug, Milla walked around the shop, admiring the smooth, freshly painted walls and the cabinets waiting for her loaves and buns, the stack of crisp brown paper bags ready to be filled and handed over to customers. She admired the decorative terracotta urns filled with ornamental sheafs of wheat, the cane display baskets and shelves.
She smiled at the cute blackboard with a hand-painted floral frame that Heidi had given her as a ‘business-warming’ gift. It was typical of Heidi’s clever taste and it was the perfect touch for this shop, lending it a quaint, rustic air. Milla loved it. Picking up a fresh stick of clean white chalk, she wrote up the details of her opening day specials.
I wish Ed could see all this.
This thought brought a heavy sigh. Since his departure, Ed had muscled his way into her head far too often, and every time Milla felt a sense of loss, like someone who’d lost a limb but could still feel its presence. She kept remembering Ed here—painting walls and working at her laptop, sleeping on the stretcher, or sitting on the back steps and listening to her garden plans. Remembered him kissing her so stirringly.
Don’t be stupid. He’s gone.
He doesn’t belong here and he’s not coming back. You don’t want him back. This is the start of your brand-new life.
She was free to carve a new future, and that was exactly what she wanted, so it made no sense that she found it so difficult to let go, especially when Ed had never been hers to hang onto.
Thoroughly annoyed with herself for letting these recurring thoughts spin endlessly, Milla showered and washed her hair. Then she heated leftover soup for her
early supper and she carried an oversized mug and a hunk of bread upstairs and curled on her new sofa, dining on soup while she watched a little TV. She went to bed at eight-thirty, praying she wouldn’t be too excited to sleep.
* * *
When the alarm rang, Milla shot out of bed quickly, remembering exactly what day this was and everything she had to do. Charged with excitement, she dressed in a flash, flew to the bathroom, and then hurried downstairs, flipping switches and filling the gleaming-clean bakery with light.
Wow, this was it. Her big day had arrived. First, a mug of tea, just to get her started, and then she’d dive into the morning’s work.
She switched on the kettle and was reaching for a mug when she heard a knock on the shop’s front door.
Heidi?
Milla couldn’t hold back her smile as she went to open the door. It made sense that her best friend would want to be here to help her, and, of course, she would find things for Heidi to do. She could help keep the place clean, and she could help with lugging trays and carrying bread through to the shop at the front, and she could even help with filling the pie cases.
Milla was grinning as she flung the door open. ‘I should have known you’d—’
Her greeting died on her lips when she saw the tall, dark American on her doorstep.
‘Hi,’ said Ed.
For a moment Milla couldn’t move or speak. She could only stare at Ed as a gust of chilly night wind scudded into the shop.
She was dizzied by a rush of emotions. Joy and excitement. An overwhelming urge to leap into his arms.
Ed shut the door. He was dressed in jeans and a dark leather jacket and as he came in from the cold he looked slightly dishevelled and heartbreakingly handsome, like an image on a movie poster.
It felt like an age before Milla found her voice. ‘You’ve got to stop doing this.’ She was clutching at a display stand for support, still shaking inside. ‘You can’t keep turning up on my doorstep when I think you’re on the other side of the world.’
‘I had to come,’ he said as if that were all the explanation she needed.
She gave a dazed shake of her head. ‘But I was talking to you on the phone just a couple of days ago. If you were planning to come back, you could have told me.’
‘It was spontaneous.’ He dropped his duffle bag beside the counter.
Milla still didn’t understand. The Ed Cavanaugh she’d known in the past wasn’t impetuous. He was careful. He was a planner. She frowned at him. ‘Why didn’t you ring me?’
‘To be honest, I didn’t want you talking me out of this.’ With a boyish smile, he shrugged out of his jacket and began rolling up his sleeves. ‘I know how fiercely independent you are.’ He gave a smiling shrug. ‘But now that I’m here, I’m hoping you’ll let me help.’
So Ed had arrived, like the cavalry in the old Westerns that her dad used to watch. He’d come to help her.
It meant he cared. For a heady moment, Milla felt her spirits shoot sky high. It was as if the sun had come out already and was shining vibrantly, brightening the long, busy day ahead of her.
But despite her excitement and joy, she was confused. Very confused, actually. And scared that she was merely some kind of intriguing amusement for Ed.
‘Don’t tell me you’ve come all this way to help with a few bread rolls and hot pies?’ she challenged.
‘Why not?’ he said, still smiling. ‘And I’m here to lift those twenty-five-kilo bags of flour.’ His grey eyes gleamed. ‘There’s other stuff on the go that I need to tell you, but that can keep for now.’
Milla had no idea what the ‘other stuff’ might be, but the reality was she didn’t have time to stand around chatting. She turned her thoughts to practicalities. ‘You must be exhausted after your long international flight and driving out here.’
‘I arrived a few hours ago and slept in the car. I’m not tired.’ His teeth flashed white as he grinned. ‘I’m still functioning on New York time. So just tell me when and where you need those flourbags lifted.’
She was torn between an urge to hug him and a strong desire to hit him. She did neither. She had a bakery to open in a few hours’ time and Ed was right—his explanations would have to wait.
In the workroom behind them, the kettle was boiling furiously. ‘I’m making tea,’ she said, and she hurried back to it and began to pour the hot water into her mug.
Ed followed. ‘I’ll look after my own coffee.’
‘OK.’
OK. OK. Stay calm.
Milla took a sip of hot, strong tea and felt a little steadier. Already, Ed had found the coffee and the pot and he was helping himself.
And it was almost as if he’d never left.
Stop wondering why he’s here. Don’t get carried away with fantasies. Concentrate on the job.
Preparation and precision timing were the key elements of successful baking. Throwing off her slightly dazed feeling, Milla checked her carefully composed timetable, then measured the yeast and the water she would need. ‘OK, Mr Muscles, you can tip the first bag of flour into the dough mixer whenever you’re ready.’
Ed certainly made it look easy, and it occurred to her that his big powerful shoulders were designed for physical activity, rather than for hunching over a computer.
Once the hum of the mixer started up, and the flours and water began to combine, transforming quickly into a smooth dough that the mixer continued to roll and stretch, Milla began to relax. The morning was under way.
When the dough was ready, it had to be divided, and moved into the steam prover to rise. That done, Milla set a big pot of simmering beef for the pies on the stovetop, and then worked on shaping the croissants.
To her surprise, Ed’s presence wasn’t a problem. He was ever-ready to help and quick to pick up on the briefest instructions and, while he didn’t have the knack of working with the dough, he could wield a knife and made a fair fist of adding slits in the top of sourdough and bloomer loaves.
He was also happy to help when a bench needed to be covered with flour for kneading and shaping, or when it had to be cleaned again. And he was quick to respond when Milla wanted tins or trays set out, or collected to be carried to the ovens.
His interest and enjoyment in the whole process surprised her. Even more surprising was the fact that, despite Ed’s need for instruction, he didn’t get in the way, or slow her down, and it was fun to have a partner helping to share the load, especially when that partner’s smile made her feel as if she were floating.
But still the questions nagged at her. Why was he here? Really? How long did he plan to stay this time? Could she cope with another fleeting visit from a man whose mere presence sent her heart spinning to the moon and back?
By six-thirty, the first loaves were coming out of the huge, hot oven. First out were the round brown sourdough loaves, followed by the traditional rectangles of white and wholemeal bread, and then the country grains, which Milla had shaped into bloomer-style loaves. They looked perfect and the place smelled sensational!
‘They look good enough to eat,’ Ed announced with a wink and a triumphant grin as he donned gloves and hefted a huge tray of loaves, ready to carry them through to the shop.
He shot Milla a quick, searching smile. ‘You want to supervise where they go on the shelves?’
And that was another thing. Ed understood and shared her excitement, but he was also careful not to overstep the mark. He acknowledged her place as owner and boss.
Now, Milla grinned back at him, and she might have hugged him if his arms weren’t laden with hot trays. As she followed Ed through to the shop, she was practically dancing with relief and excitement.
By a quarter to eight, the shelves and baskets were filled with produce and the first customers were already lining up as Heather arrived to work behind the counter
.
Milla longed to watch the sale of her first loaf, but she still had too much to do. The meat for the pies had cooled in shallow trays in the fridge and now, with the pastry ready, she laid the strapped pie tins out.
‘You can help with this,’ she told Ed. ‘I’m going to spread the pastry over the tins, and the best way to press it down is with your hands, like this,’ she said, demonstrating. ‘Then if you get a plastic glove, you can help put handfuls of meat into each pie.’
When they’d finished this, Ed helped Milla to lift another big roll of pastry for the pie tops. They stretched this over the entire line-up, and because the edges of the tins were sharp the pressure of the rolling pin was enough to separate each pie. And they were ready for the oven.
Milla couldn’t believe how hard Ed worked, approaching each task with an almost boyish enthusiasm that was contagious. Her energy felt boundless, and while she worked the customers came in a steady stream.
And so the first day rolled happily on.
* * *
It was mid-afternoon when Ed hit the wall. As they began to give the workroom a final clean-up Milla could see the exhaustion in his face.
‘Go upstairs,’ she ordered him, shooing him briskly towards the stairs. ‘Put your feet up. Now. Go on, before you drop.’
‘I should book into the pub.’
‘You can worry about the pub later. I’ve bought a sofa, and you’re welcome to use it, or—or feel free to collapse on my bed.’ She didn’t look at him as she said this. The mere mention of my bed in Ed’s presence sent an infusion of heat shooting along her veins like a fast-acting drug. Making eye contact with him would have been a dead giveaway.
* * *
It was almost dark when Ed woke, and he took a moment or two to remember where he was. He saw his boots and belt on the floor, a small television screen on a low bookcase, his duffle bag by the door.
The airline tags on the bag brought everything back—his long flight from New York and the drive out to Bellaroo Creek from Sydney, the exhilarating morning.
Miracle in Bellaroo Creek (Bellaroo Creek!) Page 13