The Bachelor Baker

by Carolyne Aarsen

  “So is this your new calling?” Anita asked, wrapping her arms around her narrow frame, giving Brian a flirtatious look. “Baking cupcakes and squares?”

  “I don’t care to do any of the girlie baking stuff,” Brian returned. “That’s Miss—”

  “City Slicker’s job,” Anita finished for him. “I heard you call her that after the Grand Opening. After all the grumbling you did there about the new businesses I never thought I’d see you working at one of them.”

  “Well, as Miss Coraline always said, the Lord moves in mysterious ways. His wonders to perform,” Brian returned with a tight smile. “Speaking of wonders, Trudy, you have to try this apple pastry.”

  “I’ll take half a dozen,” Trudy replied.

  “Only half? Your husband and kids will have half of them eaten before Sunday comes around,” he said, putting six more in another box.

  “Always were a smooth talker,” Anita said, adding a wink. “Have you been turning your charm on the owner of the bakery, Miss Melissa City Slicker? She’s single. Pretty. She reminds me of Tracy, one of your many old girlfriends.”

  Melissa knew she should get back to work, but for some reason she was suddenly curious about Brian’s romantic history.

  “Miss City Slicker is nothing like Tracy,” Brian retorted.

  His cutting words bothered her more than she cared to admit, as did the mention of many old girlfriends, but just as she was about to go back to her recipe, he turned.

  Their eyes held a moment and, in spite of his caustic tone and in spite of what he had said about her, she couldn’t look away.

  For a moment she had felt a flicker of jealousy that these women could elicit what she couldn’t.

  A genuine smile.

  Chapter Four

  “Brian, can you come to the back a moment? I just got the strangest letter,” Melissa called out.

  It was Tuesday afternoon, his third day on the job, and though the work still was uncomfortable to him, he felt like he was getting a handle on things.

  This morning he had bagged bread again and had cleaned up the bread mixer. The morning hadn’t been really busy, but business had been steady.

  “What could you possibly have received in the mail that has anything to do with me?” he asked, looking up from the full cookie tray he had just set in the display case. He brushed his hands over his apron as he straightened. Melissa’s frown deepened and Brian knew he had stepped over the line again. Didn’t seem hard to do with his new boss.

  “According to this letter, I’m supposed to read this aloud to you and Amanda,” she said.

  With a shrug of resignation Brian followed her to the back part of the bakery.

  Amanda stood by the smaller mixer, measuring flour into the batter. When she looked up from what she was doing, her expressions was as confused as Brian’s.

  “So what’s up, Melissa?” she asked, turning off the mixer and going to the sink to wash her hands. “What’s with the mini meeting back here?”

  “I got a letter from the benefactor, the person with all the money. It came yesterday. I’m supposed to read it to you both.” She cleared her throat, took a breath and began.

  “Dear Melissa, Amanda and Brian—”

  “He or she knows who is working here?” Brian interrupted. “I only started Saturday. That’s creepy.”

  “Maybe he or she is part of the SOS Committee,” Melissa said with a shrug.

  Brian doubted that. Who on the committee would have access to the kind of money this person had been throwing around? Mr. Randall? If he did, why didn’t he put that money into the factory?

  “‘Melissa, congratulations on your new venture and the work that you’ve done so far,’” Melissa continued, resting her hip against the butcher block work counter. “‘I want to encourage you as you try to expand the scope of the bakery and find ways to bring new business to our town.’”

  Melissa wrinkled her nose at that comment. “Easier said than done, Mysterious Benefactor,” she muttered.

  “Doughnuts would help,” Brian said, folding his arms over his chest.

  Melissa shot him a caustic look.

  “Seriously, about one third of the customers who’ve come in the past couple of days have asked about doughnuts.”

  “I’m aware of the lack of doughnuts. I used to serve the customers, too.”

  “Just sayin’,” he said, holding up his hand.

  “Always sayin’,” she returned.

  Brian held her steady gaze, wondering why she had hired him. Of course, it wasn’t like he was the most willing employee.

  I do my work, he reminded himself.

  Melissa returned to her letter, then paused, tapping her finger against her lip. Then she shot Brian a puzzled glance that held a hint of humor.

  Now what?

  “‘Brian, it wouldn’t hurt for you to lighten up a little. Smile occasionally. Working in a bakery isn’t only for women. There’s a long history of famous chefs and bakers being men.’”

  “You’re making that up, City Slicker,” Brian snorted.

  “It says it right here,” Melissa returned, holding the letter toward him, her eyes narrowing at his City Slicker dig. “You can read it for yourself.”

  Brian waved off the offer, though he was sorely tempted. “I’ll believe you.”

  “Whoever wrote it is right,” Amanda said, tossing the towel she used to dry her hands over her shoulder, her blue eyes piercing him. “You’re not always so nice to Melissa.”

  Brian didn’t reply to that. Melissa wasn’t always so nice to Brian either.

  “Moving along,” Melissa said. “‘Melissa, I want to commend you on making such a drastic change from baking at a hotel in the big city of St. Louis to your own bakery in the small town of Bygones. Amanda, you’re doing good work, but it is important to show up to a job on time.’”

  Amanda reared back. “Who is this guy? Santa Claus keeping track of who’s been naughty and nice?”

  “How do you know it’s a guy?” Melissa said. “Could be a woman.”

  “It’s got to be someone from the town. Someone who’s been in the bakery,” Amanda said.

  “That’s not been many people,” Brian replied, thinking of how quiet the bakery had been this morning. He’d spent half of his time cleaning up and tidying the storage room holding the bulk supplies.

  “It’s picking up,” Melissa said, sounding defensive. “That’s why I hired you.”

  “Even Ellen Langston stopped in to buy some of Melissa’s tarts this morning,” Amanda said, leaping to Melissa’s defense like a mother hen defending her chicks. “And one time I heard her saying there was no way she would set foot in here when she could bake herself.”

  “Good for her,” Brian returned, crossing his arms over his chest. “But it’s still been quiet.”

  Melissa pursed her lips at his comment. Brian just shrugged. Nothing he could do about the facts. He kept busy, but business wasn’t exactly booming. He wondered if Melissa would be able to keep him hired.

  The thought sent a sliver of dread through him. Though this job hadn’t been his first choice, it was a paycheck that he needed right now.

  “Maybe it’s Miss Ann Mars who has all the money,” Amanda said.

  Brian shook his head. “Doubtful. She can’t make that much selling secondhand goods.”

  “She could be, you know, like, a miser?” Amanda said. “I saw someone like that on a TV show. They lived like they were all poor and stuff but they had a box full of money shoved under a board in the floor of a room.”

  Brian shrugged. “A miser wouldn’t be throwing money around like this person has. Besides, Ann Mars is far from a miser and you know it, Amanda True.”

  “Maybe Miss Coraline,” Amanda persisted. �
��Maybe she inherited a bunch of money no one knows about.”

  “That’s a lot of money to keep secret.”

  Brian didn’t want to know who handed out the money. If it was someone he knew, he was afraid he would have a target for the resentment that clawed at him from time to time. He still didn’t understand why out-of-towners like Miss City Slicker here got chosen over someone like him who knew Bygones and the people who lived here.

  He dragged his hand over his face, as if to erase the emotions. Until his mechanic work took off, he didn’t have much else going on in his life.

  “There’s no sense trying to figure out who handed out the money,” Brian continued. “He or she seemed to have some strange ideas who to give it to.”

  Melissa shot him a frown and looked like she wanted to say something when the bell over the door announced a new customer, giving Brian the perfect reason to leave the back room and let Amanda and Melissa get back to their work.

  Whitney Leigh, reporter for the Gazette, Bygones’s official newspaper, stood just inside the bakery, her bright eyes behind her glasses flitting around the room as if looking for something she wasn’t finding, her bun like a tight knot at the nape of her neck. She had a camera bag slung over one shoulder and a tape recorder in her hand. Her tailored blazer and narrow skirt looked out of place in a town where most people wore the first thing they grabbed out of the closet, but Whitney liked to look put together. In charge. In control.

  “Hey, Brian,” Whitney said when her eyes alighted on him. “I heard you were working here.”

  “Hardly worth putting in your paper,” he said, unable to keep the prickly note out of his voice. He could already see the potential picture and accompanying article. Brian Montclair, former mechanic, now baker, complete with pink-striped apron. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’d like to talk to Melissa.”

  “What about?”

  Whitney shrugged. “Just some questions about Mr. Moneybags.”

  Brian turned to get Melissa from the back where she was working with Amanda, but she already stood behind him, still holding the envelope containing the letter.

  “What can I help you with?” Melissa asked, slipping the letter inside the pocket of her apron.

  “Just a few questions. I’m doing an ongoing series on Mr. Moneybags—?”

  “Who?” Brian asked.

  Whitney raised her hand as she took a few steps closer.

  “The mysterious benefactor. The guy with the bags of money,” she said with a shrug. “I’m doing an investigative piece for the Gazette.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t help you,” Melissa said. “And I’m not from around here, so I can’t even begin to speculate.”

  “Then I’d like to ask you what made you decide to come to Bygones.”

  “It was the opportunity to start a new business. Something I’ve always wanted to do.”

  Brian was surprised to hear the pleasure in Melissa’s voice, the satisfaction in her smile.

  “And you were given no indication of who the money came from that helped you start this business?”

  Melissa shook her head. “Only that it was administered through the SOS Committee, that I had to commit to staying for two years and that I had to hire locals from Bygones. But I had no idea who held the purse strings.”

  Which is how he got this amazing job, Brian thought.

  At least it was work, he reminded himself. Grandpa was happier than he’d been in years.

  Whitney tapped her lower lip with one manicured finger, as if thinking. “I don’t know why Mr. Moneybags is so secretive. Which makes me even more curious.” She flashed Brian and Melissa a grin. “One way or the other, I’m figuring out who this person is.”

  “Why does it matter?” Brian asked. “Maybe he wants to keep his generosity a secret. Maybe your Mr. Moneybags is Ms. Moneybags.”

  “Could it be Mr. Randall?” Melissa put in. “The man who owns the factory?”

  Whitney shook her head. “He said no, but he’s always been a cagey one.”

  “I think we can count him out,” Brian said. “Now that the factory is closed down.”

  Whitney eased up one shoulder in a vague shrug. “I heard Randall might be looking for alternate financing. That he might be opening up again.”

  Expectation surged through Brian at her words, igniting the faint hope he’d been nurturing since he got this job. “Did he say when?”

  Whitney shook her head. “How do you like working here, Brian?” Whitney asked, obviously realizing that finding out the identity of Mr. Moneybags was a dead end.

  “It’s work,” Brian said with a shrug. He didn’t want to discuss his employment situation with Whitney. Who knows what she would put in her article. She loved to stir the pot.

  “Who would have thought that a guy who I heard could build a car from the ground up would be making pastries?” Whitney returned, still digging.

  “I’m a man of many talents,” Brian said dryly.

  Whitney held his gaze a moment longer, as if hoping to get something else from him, then turned back to Melissa. “I’d love to buy something but maybe another time. I’m on a deadline right now.” Whitney tucked her recorder back in her pocket. “If you think of anything or hear anything about this secret backer, let me know. I’ll find who this Mr. Moneybags is one way or the other, but I wouldn’t mind some help.” Before either Brian or Melissa could reply she strode out of the bakery, a woman on a mission.

  * * *

  “Did you get one of those letters?” Lily set her steaming cappuccino down on the table where Melissa sat at Josh’s coffee shop and plopped into the chair beside her. “From the person with all the money?”

  It was Tuesday evening and the first meeting of the newly formed Shopkeepers Society, something the SOS Committee, with their love for alliteration, had come up with. Josh—owner of the Cozy Cup Café, the coffee shop—Lily—owner of Love in Bloom—and Melissa were three of the shopkeepers represented at the meeting.

  The other members were Patrick Fogerty, proprietor of The Fixer-Upper; Allison True, Amanda’s sister, who ran the bookshop; and Chase Rollins, the owner of Fluff & Stuff, a pet store.

  “I did. Felt kind of creepy how much this person knows about us. You should have seen Brian’s face when I read the part about him not being so cranky,” Melissa said.

  “That letter said that?” Lily’s mouth dropped open in shock, her wavy blond hair swinging around her face. “Wow. I imagine that didn’t go over well with Grumpy Gus.”

  “It certainly didn’t.”

  “How has he been behaving?”

  Melissa shrugged, not sure what to say. “He’s a good salesman and charming with the customers. Just not so charming with me.”

  Lilly gave her a curious grin. “I’m sensing that bothers you more than you care to admit?”

  Melissa shrugged off Lily’s probing question, pressing her finger against the faint headache that had been threatening all afternoon. “I’ve heard enough negative comments about the need for a bakery when people could make most of what I offer for half of the price of what I charge. I don’t need, on top of that, to have an employee who doesn’t like me and keeps bugging me to make doughnuts.” Melissa tossed the words out in what she hoped was a casual tone, but deep down Brian’s smoldering resentment bothered her in a way she didn’t want to analyze too deeply.

  “I think Brian’s frustrated,” Lily said. “Tate told me Brian had applied to the SOS Committee for money for a mechanic shop and, obviously, had been turned down. Maybe that’s why he’s resentful.”

  Melissa frowned. “I didn’t know that.”

  “As outsiders there’s lots we don’t know about this town or the people in it yet,” Lily said with a quick smile. “It might help if you let Brian know you feel b
ad about him not getting approved.”

  Melissa was saved from answering by Coraline clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention.

  Still a teacher, thought Melissa, turning in her chair.

  Coraline stood at one end of the coffee shop. She was dressed in a blue suit, her white shirt setting off the gray sheen of her hair. “I want to thank you all for coming out to this shopkeepers’ meeting, and special thanks to Josh for hosting it. I think we should go to the bakery next time. Every time I go by I smell these amazing aromas,” Coraline said, turning her charm on Melissa.

  Melissa simply smiled, not sure what she was supposed to say, then Miss Coraline carried on.

  “Tonight I want to discuss expectations and initiatives. I thought we could brainstorm ideas for not only rejuvenating Bygones, as was the expectation attached to the grant money, but also for drawing customers from outside Bygones. Has anyone come up with anything they’d like to share? Some idea they would like to implement in their own business?”

  A few people made some comments and some ideas were thrown around, but Melissa, to her shame, couldn’t come up with anything.

  Miss Coraline glanced at her, as if hoping she would have some ideas to contribute, but Melissa only gave her a sheepish smile.

  “I’d like to know if anyone else got a letter from our mystery benefactor this week,” Chase Rollins, the owner of Fluff & Stuff spoke up, his deep voice commanding everyone’s attention. He looked around the room, a frown making his brown eyes look even darker.

  “I am not sure what you are talking about,” Coraline said. “What letter?”

  “From the coffee shop buzz, it seems all the owners of the new businesses got a letter from this backer, encouraging them in their ventures,” Josh said, folding his arms over his chest and tilting back in his chair.

  “Whoever wrote it seemed to know a lot about us,” Alison True put in. “He or she knew that I used to live here.”

  “And that I used to have a hardware store in Michigan,” Patrick Fogerty put in.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know enough about this letter to address your questions,” Coraline said, raising her hand to stem the sudden buzz of conversation. “I prefer to discuss what we have on the agenda.”