by Jenna Brandt
Amelie watched as Pierre reluctantly made his way across the street and headed into the general store. She hated refusing him, but she needed to focus on getting the bakery back up and running as soon as possible. She needed a plan to keep her aunt from trying to take Elise back to Paris.
Entering the bank, Amelie smiled at the guard posted just inside the door. She made her way to the teller. “I’m so sorry to hear about what happened to your bakery last night. I am assuming you are here to see Mr. Waterford.”
After Amelie nodded her head, the teller turned around and made her way into a back room. A few moments later, Mr. Waterford, the bank manager, made his way over to the teller window. He gestured to Amelie, saying, “Follow me. We need to discuss this matter in private.”
Uh-oh, that didn’t bode well. If he wanted to talk in private, he was worried about whatever he was going to say might upset her.
As they entered the bank manager’s office, he said, “Please sit down,” and motioned to a chair in front of his desk. Halfheartedly, Amelie sat down and waited for Mr. Waterford to speak.
“First, let me tell you how sorry I am to hear about your troubles with the bakery.”
“Thank you, Mr. Waterford.”
“We loved your parents here at West Linn Bank. I remember telling your parents myself the loan for the bakery had been approved.”
“They were truly grateful.”
“Which is why this is all so difficult. I talked to the board of directors, and I want you to know Ms. Leclaire, I fought for you and your bakery. I thought the bank should reinvest not only in the bakery, but in you. Unfortunately, considering how far behind in loan payments you are, and being a single woman, you were hard pressed to run the bakery on your own. The board decided it was unwise to loan you the money to rebuild.”
“But the bakery has insurance.”
“Your parents did have insurance, but we checked this morning, and apparently, the insurance company has not received the last two payments. They are refusing to honor the agreement because of it.”
Amelie thought she had made the payments, but had she? Every bill which came in, she had paid it. As she searched her memory, she realized she never remembered seeing a bill from the insurance company.
“What am I supposed to do, Mr. Waterford?”
“You are young, Miss Leclaire. My suggestion? Return to your midwife schooling and find a way to move on. The bakery is no longer a feasible business for you.”
Amelie stood up and said, “Thank you, Mr. Waterford, for your time. I think it best if I be on my way.”
He came to his feet and escorted her out of his office and to the front door.
“I’m truly sorry about all of this, Miss Leclaire. You made the best beignets I have ever tasted. I am truly going to miss them.”
As Amelie walked out of the door of the bank, she thought about what she was going to do. If she left West Linn and returned to school in San Francisco, she would be forfeiting her right to take care of Elise. But would it be the worst thing? Elise could be happy in Paris and her aunt would be able to provide for her. Was Amelie being selfish by trying to hold on to both the bakery and Elise?
Walking down Main Street, Amelie contemplated what she was going to do. She hated the idea of giving up and leaving West Linn. It was her home and all her memories with her parents and sister were in this town. She would be leaving behind her friends and fellow church members. Was she prepared to do that? Did she want to do that?
“There you are, dear. I was looking for you.”
Amelie watched as Mrs. Moore approached her from across the street, a sad smile on her face.
“Good morning, Mrs. Moore.”
“Where are you headed?”
“I was going to go home and figure out a way to provide for Elise while I save up and rebuild the bakery.”
“Mr. Moore and I discussed it this morning. He was furious when the board voted against lending you the money for the rebuilding of the bakery. We wish we had the money to loan you ourselves, but currently, all of our assets are tied up in the expansion of the mill as well as the locks project.” The elderly woman furrowed her brows together as she added, “Perhaps if we approached the bank and used the mill as collateral, they would rethink giving you the loan.”
It was kind of Mrs. Moore, but she suspected they were doing it out of obligation to her parents at best, or out of pity at worst. Neither of those reasons made Amelie comfortable. She needed to find a way to do this on her own without having to put the burden on anyone else.
“I appreciate your offer, but I will manage. I cannot ask for you to risk your livelihood for me.”
“My dear, we want to help in any way we can.”
“It’s kind of you, but honestly, I need to find a way to do this on my own.” Amelie looked up at the sky and realizing the day was slipping away. “I have to get going, Mrs. Moore.”
“Certainly, my dear. I will check in on you over the next couple of days.”
Chapter 14
After checking at all the businesses, Amelie came to conclusion there were no jobs in town. Well, she had checked at almost all of them. Her mind flickered back to her conversation with Mr. Buckley a few days ago. He had told her there was a position for a cook at The Trail’s End. A shiver shot up her spine as she thought about it.
Could she do it? Could she bring herself to not only ask for the job but work there? If she didn’t, what was her alternative? If she couldn’t humble herself enough to work there, she would have to let go of her chance to rebuild the bakery. She would have no way of providing for Elise, which would in turn give her aunt cause to take Elise back to Paris, separating them. Amelie couldn’t let that happen. If it meant she had to do something she didn’t like for people she would rather avoid, she would do it for her sister’s sake.
As she headed over to The Trail’s End, Amelie prepared herself to enter the rather seedy establishment. It had been hastily constructed after the rebuilding of West Linn. What little ambience had first been in the place, had long since been destroyed by the smell of debauchery and booze. The walls were cracked and the wallpaper was peeling in more places than Amelie could count.
But even more disgusting than the atmosphere, the customers of The Trail’s End managed to make the place even seedier. Two scraggly men sat at the bar with their unkempt beards, frayed flannel shirts and dirty pants. Amelie could tell they were lumberjacks by their attire. She had never seen them before, which meant they were travelers looking for work. The mill often attracted their type, and most often, they made their home at The Trail’s End. Both men had turned to look at her when they heard the door open and close. They were ogling her now and Amelie averted her eyes as she blushed with embarrassment. This place was even worse than she had imagined.
Just then, a bubbly blonde in a tight, revealing dress bounced into the room. Amelie recognized the young woman from around town. She had come in on occasion to the bakery and Amelie knew she stayed at the boarding house at the end of Main Street.
Amelie watched her interact with the two men at the bar. Apparently, she said something amusing as both men began to snicker. The young woman’s hair was piled on top of her head, and as she laughed, her ringlets danced around her face. She had on more makeup than what respectable women would consider appropriate, but Amelie was drawn to her. Despite the woman’s outward appearance, she seemed to have a kind spirit, and her smile made Amelie feel a small bit of peace.
The woman must have known Amelie didn’t belong in the establishment because as her eyes met Amelie’s, she said, “Hello, sweetie. I think you may have come in here by mistake.”
Amelie shook her head, stating, “I’m here to see Mr. Buckley.”
Raising an eyebrow, she shrugged saying, “I’ll take you to him.”
Making her way over to the young woman’s side, Amelie heard one of the men say, “I hope she plans to work here. This one isn’t so bad, but I like ‘em when they are even you
nger like that.”
Forcing the bile down, Amelie internally blanched at the thought of getting anywhere near that man. At least if she had to work here, she would be in the back of the premise cooking and wouldn’t be forced to have contact with the cliental.
“Now, mind yourself, Buford. She’s a sweet girl and doesn’t need you bothering her.”
Amelie’s eyes jumped to the other woman with an appreciative look. She didn’t know why this woman was defending her, but she was grateful nonetheless.
As they made their way towards the back of the building, Amelie said, “Thank you for intervening back there.”
“No problem. I wouldn’t want an innocent girl like you being taken advantage of by a guy like that. My name is Lucy, by the way, but everyone calls me Lulu.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Lulu.”
Stopping just outside one of the doors in the back of the hall, Lulu hesitated. “Sweetie, I’m not sure why you are here, but before I knock on this door and tell Buckley he has a visitor, I want to give you a chance to change your mind and leave before it’s too late.”
What did she mean by that? What was she getting herself into? Before she could respond, the door swung open from the other side to expose Mr. Buckley standing there.
“I thought I heard voices out here,” he said, as his eyes drifted from Lulu’s buxom chest to Amelie. A lewd smile crossed his face as he said smugly, “I can guess why you are here, Miss Leclaire.” Gesturing with his hand towards his office, he continued, “Come on in.”
Suddenly, Amelie’s mouth went dry. She tried to swallow several times to make the lump in her throat go away, but nothing happened when she tried. Nodding her head, she turned sideways as she went past him, her body barely missing brushing against The Trail’s End owner.
“You can go back to work now, Lulu. I got this under control.”
Amelie watched as he closed the door on Lulu, who had a worried look on her face. Mr. Buckley turned his attention to Amelie. “I’m assuming you are here about the job?”
Still unable to talk, Amelie nodded.
“I had one of my former servers filling in, but lucky for you, Gertrude is a horrible cook. Our sales have been cut drastically while she has been trying to make what passes as food.” He looked Amelie up and down, as he added, “You will be a marked improvement, I imagine.”
She hated the way he stared at her, but she had to swallow her objections to his behavior if she wanted this job.
“I’m going to be blunt with you, Miss Leclaire. I know you need this job.” He believed she was helpless and at his mercy, and if she were honest with herself, he was right.
Moving towards her, he gently let his hand slide across her back and down the side of her left arm. “What I am curious about is what you are willing to do to get this job.”
Ascertaining his meaning, Amelie stepped back quickly and out of his reach. “I may be in a difficult situation, but I would like to remind you, I am a respectable woman and would never demean myself in such a way.”
“Suit yourself. I’m sure you will change your mind in the future once the desperation really sets in,” he stated with certainty. Moving across the room, he sat down behind his desk and casually leaned back in his chair.
Resolutely, Amelie affirmed, “It will never come to it, but if you give me the opportunity, I will provide the best cuisine this side of the Rocky Mountains.”
“You had better or you won’t last long. I don’t carry dead weight.”
“When would you like me to start?”
“Gertrude already served the patrons for lunch. How about you start this afternoon with dinner.”
“Can I check the kitchen for supplies and ingredients? I want to see what I will be working with here.”
Mr. Buckley nodded and flicked his hand at the door. “Go then. I will check in on you later.”
Turning around, Amelie swiftly exited the office. She couldn’t wait to get away from her new boss.
As she made her way down the back hall, she made a couple of wrong turns into two storage rooms and a privy before she found the kitchen at the farthest corner of the building. She could hear clinking of metal and grumbling as she walked into the room.
An older woman with stringy, black hair, twisted around with a sour expression on her face. “Who are you and what are you doing in my kitchen?”
“My name is Amelie. You must be Gertrude.”
“I am and you need to be on your way. I don’t have time to be talking.”
“That’s why I am here. Mr. Buckley just hired me to take over as the cook for the saloon.”
“Aren’t you the girl who runs the bakery in town? The one which just burned down? Shouldn’t you be dealing with it rather than bothering me in here?”
“Unfortunately, the bakery won’t be able to open for some time and that is why I have taken this job. I need the money to take care of my sister while I save to rebuild the bakery.”
Gertrude snorted. “You seem the type that should have plenty of other ways to get the money you need. Why don’t you just go down to the bank and bat your eyelashes to get what you need.”
Amelie’s eyes grew round with astonishment. “Excuse me, did I do something to upset you?”
“Your kind upset me.”
“And what exactly is my kind?”
“I bet you’re the type who’s never had to worry her pretty, little head about a single thing until now.”
Why was this woman being so hostile? What had Amelie ever done to her to make the other woman so aggressive towards her?
“I’m sorry if I have upset you, but Mr. Buckley offered me the job several days ago. He thought I would be a good addition to The Trail’s End.”
Cackling with derision, Gertrude said snidely, “I just bet he did. He wants to get under your skirts so he takes money from my pockets to do it. I need this job and Buckley already told me I was too old to be serving any longer. This was my last chance.” Slapping the wash towel down on the counter, she mumbled as she made her way towards the door, “Have no idea what I am going to do now. I best be going and talking to Buckley to see if he will at least keep me on to clean the place.”
As Amelie watched the older woman leave the room, she wondered what she had gotten herself into by taking this job? She had a boss who wanted to take advantage of her, co-workers who didn’t think she belonged, and customers who wanted to vulgarly gawk at her.
Sighing, Amelie forced herself to push her worries aside and focus on the task at hand. She needed to get the preparation for the dinner meal underway.
Pierre was furious. He had been at the general store when he heard the news Amelie was working at The Trail’s End. A woman named Gertrude burst into the place, fuming the uppity bakery girl had taken her job and she had been demoted to cleaning the saloon.
What possessed Amelie to take a job at a place like that? He had offered her the money to rebuild the bakery but she had refused. He understood not wanting to take money from someone, but this was not a suitable alternative.
As he marched himself into The Trail’s End, he glanced around the interior, knowing he wouldn’t see her in the main room. He was so angry he felt reckless enough to start something with the first person who he came across.
From the side, he heard, “Hey Darlin’, glad to see you’re back. Haven’t seen you in a while.”
Just what he needed. Lulu. Ever since he had developed feelings for Amelie, he had stopped frequenting The Trail’s End. Not that he had been there for pleasure. The first time was to appease William and the second was to conduct a business meeting.
But after Amelie had chided him for going there, it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn’t want her thinking less of him for any reason; least of all for patronizing a place filled with things and people he didn’t need.
“I was wondering if you could direct me to the kitchen?
Placing her hands on her hips, she replied, “I was hoping you were here t
o see me. It seems you are here to see our new cook instead.” Curling up next to him, she draped one arm around his waist, “Anyway I can change your mind?”
Untangling himself from her, Pierre stated with irritation, “Lulu, I am not in the mood for your games. If you will not help me, I will find Miss Leclaire on my own.”
With a small pout, she pointed towards the rear of the establishment. “She’s in the back.”
With a slight bow, Pierre made his way to the kitchen. As he approached, the most fragrant aroma flooded the hallway. Whatever she was cooking smelled divine. Shaking the tempting aroma from his thoughts, he pushed the door open and walked inside.
Amelie was wearing a simple brown skirt and green top with an apron over the top. She had her hair pinned up in her usual style and flecks of flour dusted her face. She seemed busy, but in control, like she had cooked in the saloon’s kitchen a million times, rather than it being her first occasion.
“You look at home in a kitchen, although I would say, I wish the kitchen you were cooking in was in a different setting.”
She glimpsed up from the pots in front of her on the stove. “What are you doing here, Pierre?”
“I came to persuade you to reconsider working at The Trail’s End. Amelie, there is no need for you to work in such a place. I made you an offer and you can still accept it.”
“I don’t have time to discuss it right now. This chicken and vegetable dish is precise in nature. If I take my eyes off it for a moment, it will burn.”
He was going to make her listen to him, if only for a moment. He made his way over to stand next to her as he said, “Amelie, I appreciate you are trying to fix all of this on your own, but you need to find another way.”
“You don’t think I tried, Pierre? I asked every business in town if there were any jobs but there was nothing. This was the only job and I had to take it.”
“But working here not only places you in an inappropriate environment, it could pose dangerous in the right circumstances.”
“I think you are being a little melodramatic, Pierre.”