Daddy Next Door

by Carol Voss

  “He didn’t know it was an interview when he came,” she said. “But he didn’t want the job.”

  “Not surprised. He’s more of a mechanic than a baker.”

  Guess she had him pegged after all, Melissa thought.

  “Got lotsa cake pops left,” Amanda said as she pried open the lid on the pail. “We don’t need to make any tomorrow.”

  “That’s too bad. I thought they would sell better,” Melissa said, picking up her checklist for what they needed to make for tomorrow. “Back in St. Louis there was a bakery around the corner from the hotel I baked at that couldn’t keep up with the demand. Lots of mothers had them at birthday parties.”

  “They’re great and all, but people need to try them, I guess. Maybe if Mrs. Morgan has them at the wedding—”

  Melissa held her hand up as if to stop what Amanda had to say. “Don’t even say that out loud or somehow she’ll find out and she’ll add them to an already overstuffed dessert menu.”

  Amanda grinned. “She is kinda getting carried away.”

  “Kinda,” Melissa agreed, glancing over the amount of squares and cookies still in the case. “At least today we don’t have as much left as yesterday.”

  She eased out another sigh, rubbing her left temple with her fingertips as she hung the clipboard back on the nail beside the industrial mixer. She’d been up since five o’clock this morning getting the bread going for the day and a spike of pain was slowly drilling into her temple.

  “You look beat,” Amanda said. “Why don’t you go home? I’ll be okay to close.”

  Melissa glanced around the bakery trying not to make a face at the flour dusting the floor, the crumbs spread around the cutting boards and the fingerprints she knew smudged the display cases in the front. Though she had dreamed for many years about opening her own bakery, the reality of the relentlessness of the work was settling in.

  As did the fact that the success of the bakery lay squarely on her shoulders. In St. Louis, working at the hotel as a baker, she was an employee. Here, she was on her own. Though independence and the ability to support herself were what she had always wanted, she never realized how heavy the load could be.

  “Okay. If you don’t mind cleaning up,” she said.

  “Sure. No problem.” Amanda flashed her a smile.

  With a grateful sigh Melissa tugged her apron off just as her cell phone rang. Her heart sank as she glanced at the name displayed on the screen.

  Mrs. Morgan. Mother of the groom of the wedding Melissa was baking for. Very demanding mother of the groom, she might add.

  “My dear Melissa. Sorry to be a bother,” Mrs. Morgan was saying in her usual hurried and breathless voice. “But I need to meet with you and Gracie. I want to rethink the dessert reception.”

  Of course she did, Melissa thought, leaning against the counter behind her. “When did you want to meet?”

  “Tomorrow. At noon at the Cozy Cup.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there.” She ended the call and blew out her breath, catching Amanda’s concerned look. “Will you be able to help me at noon tomorrow for an hour or so?”

  Amanda nodded. “My mom doesn’t need me then. I can easily come.”

  “That would be great.” She pushed herself away from the counter and walked into her office. Right now her first priority was to talk to Dale Eversleigh and see about getting a new list of prospective employees.

  * * *

  Brian strode across Bronson Avenue feeling more humiliated with each step. Working at the bakery? What was the SOS Committee thinking?

  When Melissa Sweeney had called him he wasn’t sure what she wanted, but she had asked him to come to the bakery and it would seem weird to say no. The first time he’d seen her around town he had been immediately attracted to the spunky redhead with the bright smile.

  That was until he found out that she was the owner of the new bakery. A business that had received the money he also had applied for.

  He yanked his keys out of his pocket, still frustrated that the SOS Committee had seen fit to give money to outsiders for shops like a pet store, flower shop, bookstore, coffee shop and bakery instead of the mechanic shop he’d wanted to open. The hardware store he could understand, but the rest?

  And now the committee seriously thought he would want to work at the bakery? The hardware store, okay, but the bakery? Seriously?

  He was about to cross Main Street to where his truck was parked by the grocery store when the door of the Cozy Cup Café opened and Miss Coraline stepped out.

  “Brian. Hello,” she said, giving him the same warm smile she seemed to have for all her former students.

  Miss Coraline was tall, always elegant, her silvery hair cut the same she had always worn it, a short style brushing her jaw. As far as Brian could tell she hadn’t aged since she taught him in high school.

  “Hello, Miss Coraline,” he said, spinning his truck keys around his finger, stifling the frustration still simmering below the surface of his own smile.

  “I noticed you just came out of the bakery,” she said, a surprised note in her voice. Brian suspected she remembered his rant about the new businesses at the Grand Opening.

  “Yeah. I...uh...got a call from Miss Sweeney. Said she wanted to talk to me about something.” He stopped himself there. If anything, he was even more angry than he had been then. Bad enough that the SOS Committee turned down his request, but now they wanted him to work for one of the people who had been chosen instead of him?

  Miss Coraline raised an eyebrow. “Something seems to be bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?”

  Brian seethed a few more seconds, gave his truck keys another spin then blurted out, “Why did you and the SOS Committee seriously think I would want to work at the bakery?”

  Miss Coraline looked taken aback at his anger. Then she held out a placating hand. “I thought it would work for you. After all, you did take my Home Economics class. You seemed to enjoy the baking.”

  That was mostly because Lexi was in it and he’d been eyeing her for a couple of months. But he wasn’t telling Miss Coraline that. “I didn’t exactly pass.”

  Miss Coraline gave him a gentle smile. “I understand, but some of the other people needing work seemed more suited to the other businesses. I didn’t have the final say who got on what list, if that’s any consolation,” Miss Coraline said. “But if you don’t want to work at the bakery, you don’t have to.”

  “I suppose not,” Brian muttered.

  “However, you might as well know the other businesses all have their own list of people to ask and if you don’t take this job, you probably won’t get one with the other stores.”

  Not that he wanted to work at a pet store or flower shop either, but it seemed his options were growing narrower and narrower.

  “I just need something until business picks up,” Brian said. “I’ve got a few mechanic jobs coming in...” He let the sentence drift off, not so sure he wanted Miss Coraline to know exactly where things lay for him. He’d heard rumors that Mr. Robert Randall was looking for financing. Maybe he was opening the factory again in spite of what Randall had said when he laid them off. But for now, he needed work.

  “You’ll have to make your own decision. Pray about it and see what happens,” she said.

  Brian released a light laugh. He’d spent a lot of time with God the past half year. Ever since he got his pink slip from Mr. Randall. Ever since he watched the town he loved slowly die off.

  “I’ll do that,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I’m sorry, but I gotta run. I’m picking up my grandfather from Concordia. He’s coming for a visit.”

  “You say hello to him from me, and I hope to see him around while he’s here.”

  “You probably will. He’s been talking about moving back here.”

 
; “Wouldn’t that be lovely?” Miss Coraline said.

  “Yeah. Real nice.” The only problem was his grandfather would need a place to stay and that would likely be the house Brian had inherited when his parents died. But Brian was still making payments on it and if Grandpa moved in with him, Brian would need more than the sporadic mechanic work he had been getting to support the two of them.

  You might have to take that job at the bakery after all.

  He gave Miss Coraline a tight smile. “I better get going. I’ll see you around,” he said, then strode across the street to his truck.

  As he drove out of town, he heaved a sigh, his mind spinning in circles, thinking about Melissa Sweeney, her job offer and his own situation.

  When Randall Manufacturing closed its doors, he was out of a job. He’d worked as a foreman and had made decent money. Enough that he’d managed to set some aside with the hope of starting his own mechanic shop. He had been working on cars and trucks ever since he could pick up a wrench, helping his father work on farm equipment and fixing up his and his sister’s vehicles. He’d been doing some work on the side with an eye to someday owning his own business. Being his own boss.

  After he lost his job he thought that would be the push he needed to get it started. So he’d gone to the bank for a loan. But the bank had turned him down, stating that his down payment wasn’t large enough given the current economic condition of the town.

  His hopes had been revived when he’d heard about some mystery person with a large amount of money who was looking to start new businesses in Bygones. That hope had been extinguished in favor of outsiders. The committee was looking for new blood. New ideas.

  Why had a local like him, who had way more invested in Bygones, been turned down in favor of someone who wasn’t from here, who couldn’t possibly care about the town the way he did?

  Bunch of city slickers like Melissa Sweeney. He gripped the steering wheel of his truck, stifling his humiliation. In spite of his antagonism to Melissa as City Slicker Baker, he couldn’t stop noticing Melissa was an appealing woman. She was the first girl he had felt any kind of attraction toward in a while. In another time and in other circumstances he might allow that feeling to go somewhere. But not now.

  He had no job and no prospects.

  Nothing to offer her.

  ISBN: 9781460317327

  DADDY NEXT DOOR

  Copyright © 2013 by Carol Voss

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