Promises: Star's Bakery (The Baker Girl Book 2)

by Mary Jane Forbes

Ty added a touch more wine to their glasses.

  Perched back on the stool, Star handed Tyler a white business-size envelope.

  He glanced at her. A quick peck on her lips. He opened the envelope and began to read the letter.

  Tyler slid off the stool, read it again as he circled the counter. “Am I reading this right? Dale Wainwright left you twenty-five million dollars?”

  Star’s face was serious as she nodded. “But wait. Manny said it will be contested. Mr. Wainwright’s family, well his daughter, is furious. She thinks I seduced her father into giving me the money. Those were her words, Manny said, plus some others he wouldn’t repeat.”

  “Does Manny think she’ll prevail?”

  “He doesn’t think so, mainly because of this letter. Gran and I went to the bank, opened up a safety deposit box. The original of the letter and the envelope are in the box.”

  “My God, Star, what are you going to do?”

  “Nothing. I can’t do anything until the matter is settled. Manny evidently talked to Louise Wainwright about coming to Daytona Beach to meet me. He told her I was a good person, so her father knew what he was doing.”

  “And, are they coming?”

  “Yes, day after Christmas … or the next. Ty can you be with me when they come? Your last text … you thought you might have to return to Burbank before New Years.”

  “No … yes, I did say that. But I told the company I couldn’t possibly be back until January first or second. I told them I had serious business to attend to.”

  Tyler folded the slip of paper returning it to the envelope.

  “Serious business? Everything okay with your parents?”

  “You, Miss Bloom, are my serious business. This letter … it changes things.” Tyler looked at Star, his face veiled with apprehension.

  Chapter 38

  Christmas Day

  STAR HAD CALLED Cindy asking what she was planning to wear for the Christmas celebration. The two giggled as the dress code morphed from comfy casual jeans to long gowns and sparkly jewels to a happy medium of cocktail dresses—long, short, or somewhere in between.

  Gran was thrilled. She hadn’t had an occasion to wear her black A-line short sleeved dress with a modest scoop neck. She had purchased the dress in New York City, bedazzled by the dress’s embellished rhinestone buckle.

  Dressing for the evening, Star was in heaven peeling off her jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers, soaking in a hot tub. Gran threw in a handful of bubble bath salts before Star stepped in to the bubbles erupting around her.

  • • •

  THE SETTING WAS PERFECT—a movie set.

  The flickering candles down the center of the dining room table covered with a white damask cloth, added to the flames crackling in the corner fireplace, sending rainbow sparks of light off the chandelier’s crystal droplets, off the crystal wine goblets. Colored lights twinkling against the glass ornaments on the tree in the foyer were visible through the dining room arch.

  Tony, Tyler’s dad, stood at the head of the table carving the golden brown turkey. Cindy, Tyler’s mom, had removed the extra leaves of the table creating an intimate family gathering.

  Gran and Star sat on one side of the table, Tyler the opposite side, host and hostess completing the circle on either end.

  Tyler and his dad doffed their blazers when Tony began the carving, Tyler standing by his side holding the platter to receive the succulent slices of turkey. It was a good thing all he had to do was stand there because he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Star. The midnight-blue intricate lace overlaying a form-fitting sleeveless sheath, lustrous satin outlining the scoop neck, captivated him. Star was way more beautiful than any woman in Hollywood.

  Cindy was the picture of a perfect hostess in a silvery gray lace—V-neck, fluttery short sleeves. Her dark brown hair pulled back into a chignon revealed a pair of sparkling diamond earrings—a gift from her husband.

  Chatter, soft laughter mingled in the air with the scent of roasted turkey, as Tyler related stories of his group sessions over the characters he and his colleagues were creating, giving form, emotion, and voice to their antics. He didn’t mention California but did exchange a smile with Star, a smile that was not lost on his parents.

  Gran told stories of how she and Star worked in the kitchen together preparing family feasts on Thanksgiving—all of the holidays.

  Anyone peeking in the window would have seen a family enjoying each other on a special occasion.

  Of course, everyone around the table was aware of Star’s gift from John Doe. Tyler had told his folks that morning sitting at the kitchen counter while his mother stuffed the turkey, father and son sipping coffee. The housekeeper had the day off, leaving the Jackman home the day before around noon to join her family in Orlando. The baking, setting the table, last minute flower arrangements finished, Cindy scooted her out the door with a hug, wishing her safe travel and to enjoy being with her sister and family.

  Everyone also knew that Mr. Wainwright’s daughter and her husband were arriving the next day around noon from Dallas to meet with Star, meet with Star to accuse her of seducing her father. They all knew but never spoke of it. Manny had called Star that morning confirming their arrival. Tomorrow was tomorrow and today was Christmas.

  After the feast they adjourned to the little theater Tony designed, cabled to Tyler’s computer in his studio over the garage. Tonight’s attraction, while sipping an espresso laced with Grand Marnier—a preview of The Little Baker Girl. The short animation production Tyler sent to a producer, the producer who had shown interest but, as of yet, had not offered a contract. The three elders sat in the first row, each chair upholstered in soft black leather, a cup and small plate holder attached to the arms held the coffees. Star and Tyler sat in the second row, Tyler’s arm across the two consoles holding Star’s hand. Neither mentioned Star on the carousel’s white house, Tyler standing close, hand up to hers.

  Cheers, applause, praise were heaped on Tyler along with a standing ovation. Everyone agreed it was a winner no matter what happened. Cindy suggested he enter it in the animated film category at the Cannes film festival next May.

  Settling back in their seats, Tyler dimmed the houselights for the feature film Cindy selected for the evening—It’s a Wonderful Life with Jimmy Stewart and his struggles as George Bailey.

  The celebration wound down after the movie, conversation spent. It had been agreed that an exchange of presents was not in order—it was enough to be together. Cindy, however, tucked an aged bottle of Port wine under Gran’s arm. She thought perhaps Gran and Star might like to imbibe before turning out the light. With hugs, kisses, and promises to return soon, Tyler settled Gran and Star in the backseat of his mom’s car, waved his limo-driver cap, rented along with Superman’s cape and tights, to Tony and Cindy as he drove out of the driveway and on to Star’s studio apartment.

  Tyler gave Gran a hand as she exited the car scooting to the front door. Star whispered to her that she’d be right in and to pour a cordial of the Port for both of them.

  Tyler turned Star into his arms, holding her, protecting her from what was to come.

  Her arms circled tightly around him as well, her head on his chest nestled under his chin. “Thanks for a wonderful Christmas, Ty. Your mom and dad were so thoughtful, welcoming Gran and me.”

  Ty lifted her chin. Her eyes, brows drawn tight. She was apprehensive over what tomorrow might bring. “Don’t worry, Miss Bloom. I’ll be with you. And if they’re mean, Superman will drive them away.”

  Chapter 39

  A SCRAGGLY TWO-FOOT Christmas tree that Star saved from the scrapheap, sparkled brightly in the corner, adorned with a string of colored lights. The needles, sparse as they were, filled the small space with a faint aroma of pine.

  Gran and Star huddled side-by-side on the bottom bunk, each wrapped in a blanket, sipping a cordial of the Port wine Cindy gave to Gran. A candle flickered on the little table next to the futon couch.

  Star l
eaned back against the wall, ducking her head so she didn’t smack the bunk above. “I’m glad I called Mom and Dad this morning, wishing them a merry Christmas. It seems forever since I’ve seen them … almost a year … almost a year since I came to Daytona Beach. Gran, did you miss being with the family today?”

  Gran chuckled. “Star, there are so many twists and turns going on around here I don’t have time to miss anyone … maybe a little.”

  “Did you have a nice time with the Jackmans?”

  “Hard not to have a good time. They are wonderful people. They seemed to like the basket we put together. Did you see Cindy’s eyes? The bread and pies will do nicely with Tyler being home.”

  “She was more than happy with the Christmas cookies you wrapped to give to friends who drop by this week for some holiday cheer. And, of course, the little bundles of taffy. I still can’t believe we had time to make the taffy for the holidays. Hattie and Mattie stepped up big time. Some customers bought the whole jar—not just a little bag. Oh, and the chocolate-fudge brownies. Anything fudgy is a winner in Ty’s book.”

  “How about you, dear? Did you have a good time?”

  “Oh, yes. How about their theater?”

  “Star … Tyler loves you … you know that don’t you?”

  “Yes, I know. Gran … what’s going to happen? What am I going to do?”

  “Take one day at a time, sweetie. Don’t borrow trouble. You don’t know about this Louise Wainwright. You show her the letter … well, surely she’ll come around.”

  “I don’t know. Gran, I’m in love with Ty. We’re good together.”

  “That boy makes me laugh. His film of the Little Baker Girl is precious. You both have a lot to think about. Big decisions. He seems to be ensconced in Burbank. You here on the East Coast. I’m not in favor of commuting relationships. Twenty-five million … so much money. You could do so a lot with it … set up quite a life for the two of you–east coast … west coast.”

  “But, Gran, I just opened a bakery. People are depending on me—you, Wanda, and Benny. I have a new life because of the bakery. And then the Butterworth sisters. How can I leave them? Quit so soon? What kind of a person is that? I dreamed of a bakery since I was little.”

  “Star, dreams when you are a little girl change. You may have outgrown, or rather you may be ready to take what you’ve learned and add to it—you’ve talked about a cookbook for children, an interactive E-book, you said. And, I guess we know someone who could help with that. Oh my, Tyler would run with your idea. You two would be a regular corporation.”

  Star giggled, scooched off the lower bunk for the bottle of Port, paused. “Gran would you like half a turkey sandwich? Cindy gave me some slices.”

  “Yes, I would, dear. But just half. And maybe switch to seltzer water. I don’t want to have a hangover tomorrow.”

  Star began to laugh. Stopped. Gran was right. She had to be clear headed tomorrow. “There are so many irons in the fire as Dad would say. My interview with Mr. Roth—is he going to offer some kind of job? And then there’s Ty—what if his short film is accepted and they want him to create others?” Star shook the thoughts from her head. “Anyway, I’m glad we called the family this morning.”

  Star brought a small plate with the turkey sandwich cut on the diagonal, and two sturdy mugs of seltzer so they wouldn’t tip on the bed.

  “Yes, they sounded well. I worry a little about your father. He works so hard. Umm, I didn’t think I’d ever eat again, but this turkey with our crusty olive loaf is wonderful.”

  “We do bake spectacular bread, Gran.”

  “Dear, I’ve wanted to tell you something, and now with all your planning, I think the time is right. The schedule at the bakery is a bit much for me. I’ve been thinking, seriously this time, of going home to Hoboken. Hearing your father’s voice today … well, maybe it’s time. I’ve been here with you now for almost six months. I never intended to stay that long … but my, it has been fun.”

  “Gran, you’ve been wonderful. I’ve taken advantage of you … I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine going through all this without you.”

  Gran patted Star’s hand. “Nonsense, child. I’ve done exactly what I wanted to do every hour. But the last few days … well, I think they were a harbinger of the level of activity that is required to keep a full-fledged bakery going. And, Star dear, your bakery has quickly become a fixture on the strip. You should have heard Benny talking to the Butterworth girls—mercy me. They had you expanding to deliver fresh baked goods to the local markets. Anyway, let’s see what the next few days hold. Keep an open mind.”

  Picking up the empty plate and their empty mugs, Star padded to the dishwasher. “You’re right. And, I think we’d better get some sleep. Can I get you anything before I climb up the ladder?”

  “I’m fine, dear. Thank you for a most wonderful Christmas. I love you.”

  “Love you too, Gran. Goodnight.”

  Star blew out the candle, turned off the tree lights and climbed up to the top bunk pulling the covers up under her chin. Her thoughts were winding down, but one persisted, Dale Wainwright’s words. Never hesitate to take a risk that in your heart you believe in, if only you had the nerve. Go for it!

  Chapter 40

  Dallas, Texas

  THE CHARITIES NEEDED her attention with year-end tax issues, and the hue and cry for additional funding had risen to a fever pitch. What was she doing, leaving town to confront a predator, a predator who succeeded in getting into her father’s generous heart.

  Swearing, muttering under her breath, Louise yanked her large tote from the back of the closet. She was furious at the lawyer, furious at Manny Salinas for suggesting she fly to Florida see for herself, to meet, to take stock of the person who swindled her father’s estate out of millions that could have gone to charity. But most of all she was furious with herself for taking the bait.

  What could the trip possibly prove? She had read her father’s letter again—two or three times. Maybe he did take his life. He refers to dying in the letter. It was all so confusing, heart wrenching. She wished she was a little girl again holding his hand, meeting Mickey Mouse.

  Here it was almost midnight. Some Christmas! Not! She and Jude had joined their daughter and her husband for dinner. Lou spent almost three hours in the bathroom heaving her guts out. Jude and Thom spent the time scowling at each other until a few martinis loosened them up. And Louise had spent the time pacing. Still furious, vowing under her breath to contest the codicil, so sure that the baker had swindled her way into her father’s affections.

  They were leaving Dallas at ten o’clock in the morning. If all went as planned, Manny Salinas and his wife would pick them up and take them to meet the harlot at her little bakery of all places. The meeting would be brief, Louise would see to that, and then a quick trip back to the airport for a six o’clock return flight. Clifford Stanfield had pestered to go with them, and she had finally agreed thinking that he might learn something to help set aside the codicil.

  Louise reached up to the top shelf in the closet for her hat—so many hats they took up the entire expanse including the space over Jude’s tuxedos. The tuxedos. How handsome he was when he wore one of them. His limp gave him a certain aristocratic air, a triumph over a horrendous event … always there by his wife’s side. Tugging on the brim, the hat slid off the shelf along with a cigar box which landed on her foot. Closing her eyes, she waited a moment for the pain to ease then pushed the box aside, snatching her hat from the floor.

  The cigar box caught her eye. She hadn’t seen it before. Picking it up, she walked to the bed, sat on the edge opening the lid of the box.

  Gasping, her lungs struggling for air, chest heaving as she stared down at a wallet, her father’s wallet. Her hand shaking, she picked up the wallet. Surely it wasn’t what she thought it was. A postcard fell into her lap. Disney World … wish you were with me … remember? Another postcard, this one from Daytona Beach. The postmark was stamped the day he died.
It was addressed to her but she had never seen it. Three more postcards she had never seen, never received, yet the address was correct.

  Clutching the wallet to her heart, her eyes wandered to the photo on her bureau, a photo of a little girl standing next to a protective father holding the little girl’s hand, both smiling at Mickey Mouse—Louise and her father visiting the mouse house. Caressing the soft leather of the wallet, she folded it back. Was she really holding his wallet? Yes—a driver’s license, a health-insurance card, a picture … a miniature of the one on her bureau. A tear dropped onto the picture. She swiped away another with the back of her hand.

  What did this mean? Who put the box there? Who … Jude? Why? The answer echoed in her head, her father’s words—he’s marrying you for your money. Louise fumbled for the cell phone in her pocket, took pictures of each item in the box, as well as the box. Putting the postcards, the wallet, back in the box, she returned it to the shelf, covering it with her hat as she had found it.

  Her mind whirling, Louise then went about finishing her preparations for their trip in the morning. Satisfied she had everything, she went to bed, stared at the ceiling. Hearing Jude enter the bedroom she turned on her side, forcing herself into a rhythmic breathing, faking sleep.

  She had to think!

  Chapter 41

  THE NON-STOP FLIGHT to Orlando was uneventful. Louise sat between Clifford and Jude. Both tried to engage her in conversation but she merely nodded in reply, or pretended to look at the magazine from the seat pocket in front of her. The plane landed on time and the passengers were released.

  Manny and Liz pulled up to the curb responding to Louise’s cell call that they were on their way to the baggage claim. They had no baggage and would be walking out the door momentarily.

  Manny waved. Holding the car doors open, Louise nodded as the three slid into the backseat.

  With his passengers buckled in, Manny introduced Liz to Clifford Stanfield, and headed out of the airport for the hour drive to Daytona Beach and the meeting with Star. He knew that her grandmother and Tyler would be by her side for support. Star instructed him to park at the rear of the bakery and that the backdoor would be unlocked. She asked him to push the buzzer to the left of the door and then to enter. It was Monday. The bakery was closed.