Praise for Gail Anderson-Dargatz
For the Claire Abbott Mystery series
“[Claire] is a relatable character, and her psychic ability grows at just the right pace for a short series opener. For new adult readers who prefer hi-lo books and reluctant or struggling teen readers.”
— School Library Journal
“Black forests, snowy weather and a growing sense of dread stir the pot of fear and tension to a deadly twister resulting in drastic action, last second rescue and several red faces among the town’s male protectors of the peace. A sleuth with an edge launches Claire Abbott into a new series.”
—Canadian Mystery Reviews
“A mad dash from start to finish, this latest entry in the Rapid Reads series is great for people who crave excitement.”
—Kirkus Reviews
For The Spawning Grounds
“Writing as fluid as the river that runs through the story… A master storyteller, Anderson-Dargatz sets out with a tale of the familiar and seamlessly takes the reader where they never imagined they could go.”
—The Toronto Star
“The Canadian novelist writes what’s sure to be classic literature.”
—The Huffington Post
“Sharp imagery and spare dialogue are put to good use in Gail Anderson-Dargatz’s ghost tale of a mysterious force intent on destroying a family in rural British Columbia.”
—The Globe and Mail
For A Recipe for Bees
“In language remarkable for its suppleness and unforced simplicity, Anderson-Dargatz delivers both a quirky love story and a serene meditation on endurance and its rich rewards.”
—The Washington Post
“A bravura work that in several ways recalls Carol Shield’s The Stone Diaries. What Gail Anderson-Dargatz has achieved is a commemoration of a lifestyle and a collection of characters that live on when the novel is finished.”
—The Times Literary Supplement (London)
Copyright © 2017 Gail Anderson-Dargatz
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Anderson-Dargatz, Gail, 1963–, author
From scratch / Gail Anderson-Dargatz.
(Rapid reads)
Issued also in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-4598-1502-5 (softcover).—ISBN 978-1-4598-1503-2 (PDF).—ISBN 978-1-4598-1504-9 (EPUB)
I. Title. II. Series: Rapid reads
PS8551.N3574F76 2017 C813'.54 C2017-900823-4
C2017-900824-2
First published in the United States, 2017
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017933365
Summary: In this short novel, a single mother goes back to school in order to run her own bakery. (RL 4.8)
Orca Book Publishers is dedicated to preserving the environment and has printed this book on Forest Stewardship Council® certified paper.
Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.
Cover design by Jenn Playford
Cover photography by Creative Market
ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS
www.orcabook.com
Printed and bound in Canada.
20 19 18 17 • 4 3 2 1
For Judi, who brought a community together with her fine cooking and loving presence.
Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Preview of No Return Address By Gail Anderson-Dargartz
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
One
I brushed flour off my apron as I stepped away from the kitchen area and up to the bakery counter to serve Murray. He was a widower a few years older than me, in his early forties. He still dressed like a construction worker even though he owned his own antique business now. He sold old dishes, toys and art online, through his website. “You know what I’m here for,” he said, grinning.
I did. Murray turned up at the end of my morning shift almost every day. He always ordered the same thing. I handed him a cup of coffee and two oatmeal “doilies.” I called these cookies doilies because as they baked, the dough spread out into crisp circles. They looked like the lace doilies people put under vases to protect their furniture.
“Thanks, Cookie,” Murray said as he took the plate. He was the one who gave me the nickname Cookie. Now every regular at the bakery called me that. My real name is Eva.
“You ever going to give me the recipe so I can make these cookies at home?” he asked me.
I shook my head as I smiled shyly at him. We didn’t use packaged mixes at this bakery. We baked everything from scratch. I made these cookies from my own recipe.
“Probably better if you don’t tell me,” he said. “I want a reason to keep coming in here.” Murray held my gaze just a little too long, as if he liked me. But I wasn’t sure. More to the point, I found it hard to believe he could be interested in me. He was such a handsome and accomplished man, with a business of his own.
And me? I just worked here, at this bakery. My hair was tucked in a hairnet because I’d been baking that morning. My apron was covered in flour and butter stains. I never wore makeup to work because it got so hot around the big commercial ovens. I always worked up a sweat. If I did wear mascara, it smudged. What could Murray possibly see in me?
Diana elbowed me as Murray went to his usual table by the window. “Like he needs another reason to come in here,” she said. “He’s got you.”
She grinned at me, but I tried to ignore her. I wiped the counter to hide my embarrassment.
Diana was the owner of the bakery. She was in her sixties now and had owned the bakery-café in this strip mall for more than twenty-five years. The café looked a little dated too. The place could have used some fresh paint and new tables. But the big windows filled the space with light, and the room always smelled of sweet baked goods. The bakery-café was a favorite hangout, the only place to meet for coffee in this rural area just outside of town.
I had worked at the bakery since my daughter Katie was little. Katie had worked here summers as a teen. Now she took cooking courses at the college in town. But I had never gone to school to learn how to bake. I had learned all that from Diana, on the job. Then I practiced baking at home, making up my own recipes.
“Come on, Eva, when are you going to do something about that?” Diana asked me, nodding at Murray.
“What?” I asked, as if I didn’t know.
“He likes you. And I know you like him.”
I felt my face heat up. Were my feelings for Murray that obvious? “Murray is only being kind,” I said.
“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Diana said. “Your cookies are truly wonderful, but you’re the reason Murray comes in here every morning. I see him watching you when you aren’t looking.”
He glanced up now to see us watching him. Caught, he quickly looked away.
“I don’t have time for romance,” I said. “I’ve got a kid, and I’ve got work. That’s more than enough to fill my day.”
“Katie is a grown woman now,” said Diana. “She’s in college. It’s time to start thinking about yourself.”
“Katie is still living at home. On top of paying for rent and food, I have to pay for her tuition now, the cost of her schooling. After I pay the bills on payday, I have hardly anything left over.” I stopped when I saw the look on Diana’s face. “I don’t mean to complain,” I said. “You’ve been good to me, letting me work overtime when I need the cash.”
Diana sighed. “I wish I could give you even more hours, for my sake as well as yours.” She rubbed her sore knee. She was about to have an operation on that knee. Standing on her feet for hours each day year after year had taken its toll on her. She looked tired and often winced in pain. “But with the economy the way it is…” She didn’t finish her sentence.
I knew things had been hard for her and everyone in the community. When the small department store in this rural strip mall had closed down, one business after another had also closed. But, as Diana often said, people had to eat. There were enough regular customers, like Murray, to keep the bakery going. Even so, I knew Diana had been trying to sell the business so she could retire. The For Sale sign had been up outside the bakery for over a year. Diana had told me she would make sure the new owner kept me on, however. She would make it clear I helped her run the place.
Diana took my hand in hers. “Listen, Eva, since we’re on the subject—” She hesitated.
“What is it?”
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, not just about your hours, but about your job.”
“My job?” I felt my stomach knot.
“As you know, I haven’t had any serious offers on the bakery. No one wants to take the place on, not with all these other businesses in the mall shutting down. And I have my knee operation coming up.”
She looked around the small bakery-café. The glass counter was full of baked goods. A row of small tables lined the windows. The place smelled of the cinnamon buns baking in the big oven in the kitchen behind us. “I’ve decided to close the bakery at the end of next month.”
I covered my mouth. “Oh no!” I said.
“The tourists will be gone by then,” she said. “Labor Day weekend is coming up. Summer is already just about over. I can’t keep the place open any longer. I’ll have to stay off this knee for several months after the operation.”
“I understand,” I said. I was sad for Diana—and for our customers. Without this bakery, there would be no place for people in the community to meet. They would have to drive into town just to go out for a cup of coffee. But I was most worried about myself and my daughter. What was I going to do without this job? How was I going to help Katie get through college? She still had another year of schooling in her cooking course.
Diana didn’t catch on to my panic right away. “So you’d better do something about Murray now,” she said. “Ask the poor man out. You’ve been dancing around each other for years. After we close, you won’t have an excuse to see him.”
I stole a glance at him. He was watching me again, and his face was red. Could he hear our conversation? “Shush,” I told Diana. I lowered my voice further. “If he likes me so much, why hasn’t he asked me out?”
“He’s as shy as you are.”
“Murray doesn’t strike me as shy. He talks up a storm with the other regulars.”
“You do too.”
“That’s part of my job,” I said. “And I know everyone here.”
“Look, I’m just saying you’ve both been through a lot when it comes to love.”
That much was true. Katie’s dad had disappeared from our lives when Katie was a toddler. He didn’t even provide child support. The few men I had dated after him didn’t want to take on my little family. In recent years I had given up on the idea of dating altogether.
Murray, on the other hand, had lost his wife to cancer. In the years since, I had never seen him with another woman. I liked that about him. He seemed to be saving himself for someone special. I couldn’t believe the someone special might be me.
“Maybe it’s time to give Murray that recipe for your doily cookies?” Diana suggested. “Or offer to make some for him at his place?”
“I could never do that.” My heart raced at the thought. What if he said no?
“Maybe I should put a bug in his ear.” Diana grinned. “Tell him to ask you out.”
“You wouldn’t do that!” I paused. “Would you?”
“Somebody has to help you two fools get it together.”
“I don’t have time to think about Murray right now,” I said, hoping she’d take the hint. “I’ve got to focus on finding other work. Katie goes back to college next week. I have enough saved up to cover her tuition, the cost of her course. Other than that, I don’t have much money. If I don’t find another job right away, I might have to cash in my retirement fund. It’s only three or four thousand dollars. That won’t last long.”
Diana wrapped an arm around me as she finally realized how hard I was taking the news. “I’m so sorry, Eva. I wish I could keep the bakery running. But I’m getting too old. It’s taking too much out of me.”
“I know,” I said. I looked up at her. “But I only know how to bake. I don’t have any other skills. What am I going to do?”
Diana didn’t have an answer. And I didn’t have much time to figure out how I was going to make a living. I had worked in this bakery for nearly fifteen years. Now I would have to start all over again.
I looked around the place and at the customers I knew so well. At the end of the next month I’d be out of a job. I would no longer come here every day. I would visit my old friend Diana, but I might not see Murray again. I wouldn’t have my daily excuse to talk to him. I doubted I would ever work up the courage to go visit him. All of a sudden, I felt like my familiar world was crumbling all around me.
Two
I checked the job listings in the local newspapers as soon as I got home. There were no jobs for bakers in town. There were baking jobs in the next big city, but that was too far to drive every day.
I heard the door open, and my daughter skipped in. Everyone said Katie looked a lot like me. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her eyes were brown, and, like me, she didn’t wear much makeup. Today she wore jeans and a blue T-shirt with a pun printed on it. It read I bake because I knead the dough. Of course, dough also means “money.”
“Hey, Mom,” she said. “How was your day?”
“I’ve had better,” I said.
She took in the worried look on my face. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”
“Diana is closing the bakery,” I said. “As of the end of September, I’m out of a job.”
“Shit.” Katie dropped her backpack on the floor and sat on a stool opposite me. “Can I still go to school?”
Trust a kid to think of herself first, I thought. But then, her schooling had also been my first thought.
I put my head in my hands. “To be honest, I don’t know. I have to find a job right away, or we’ll be living on the streets. I don’t have much cash stashed away.”
“There must be positions open in other bakeries or in a bakery in a supermarket.” Katie pulled her laptop from her backpack and started looking on the Internet. She checked out jobs at the grocery stores and bakeries in the nearby town.
“No openings for bakers, right?” I said.
“Not right now.”
“There are bakery jobs in other towns,” I said. “But we would have to move.”
“I’m just about to go back to college—in town. I’m only halfway through my cooking program. I can’t move. Can you get another job here, at another kind of business?”
“All I know is what I learned in Diana’s bakery,” I said. “I don’t know how to do anything else.”
“You can go to the college. Take a course. Learn new skills.”
> “I can’t afford that, honey. On top of tuition for your college courses, I still have to pay for rent, food, electricity, our phones.”
“Maybe one of us could get a student loan. Or both of us!” Katie thought for a moment. “I saw a poster up at the college. There’s an administrative-assistant program starting this week. You could take that course.”
“I’m not really sure what an administrative assistant is.”
“A receptionist or office clerk. A secretary. You would be the person who keeps the office running and helps everyone else. You’d learn basic office skills, like how to write reports and letters. A friend of mine took the course last year.”
“I’m not sure about writing reports and letters. I haven’t written much since high school.”
“I can help with your writing. I can tutor you.”
I put my hand to my mouth. “Oh, that’s so embarrassing. My daughter teaching me. I should be helping you at school.”
“You do all the time. You taught me how to cook and bake in the first place, remember? In any case, I’m the reason you didn’t finish school.”
She was right, in a way. I’d become pregnant with Katie in twelfth grade and had to leave school. Katie’s dad wasn’t ready to be a father any more than I was ready to be a mother. He had left me not long after Katie was born. I’d had to work to support my daughter and myself from then on. There was no time to finish high school, much less go to college. I did have days when I resented being a single mother. But I didn’t want Katie to know that.
“You don’t owe me anything,” I said. “You’ve been a gift.”
“I know you love me, Mom. But I also know how hard things have been for you. Let me help you out now.”
I admired my daughter as she searched the Internet for information on the course. She could do anything she put her mind to. She never seemed afraid to try new things. I had been like her once. Where had that brave part of me gone?
Katie shifted the laptop to show me the college website. “Check it out.”
I read over the course information with Katie. The first month was all about working on a computer. I would learn how to manage files and use computer software. There was even a section on using social media and doing research via the Internet. “I don’t know much about any of that,” I said.
From Scratch Page 1