He shook his head. “I’m sure. The more I practice when we aren’t open, the more I can do when the bakery does!”
I couldn’t fault his work ethic, even though I was worried he would burn out from it.
With nothing else to do, we piled into my car since Sam’s was full to the brim with pastries and due to a suggestion yesterday, sliced bread to go along with some of Jonas’ deli cuts so people could make sandwiches instead of eating pastries all day long.
Admittedly, it was something I should have caught the first day.
The rally, if it was possible, was even larger than the day before. Sam pulled out a foldable rolling cart from the back of her van and we began unloading all we could fit onto it, resolving to come back for the rest later.
“This is all going to be gone by two or three o’clock,” I said.
“Two to one odds it’s gone by noon,” said Sam with a challenging grin.
“You’re on.”
The tables were in their usual spot and setup was a breeze with so many hands helping.
We stood around, chatted with each other and the townspeople who milled around the tables. They knew enough by now not to make a scramble for the food and to form an orderly line.
There were a few newcomers that didn’t seem to know the etiquette but those who were here yesterday were quick to step in and let them know the rules.
I was thankful to them. I had no desire to get up and speak again either out here or in the public forum.
Unfortunately, fate - and highly opinionated townspeople - didn’t give a shit what I desired.
“Thomas Weller?” asked a well-dressed young woman with wavy brown hair.
I turned to look at her, caught Sam ducking her head and hurrying away. Before I knew it this woman had me somehow alone in a crowd of a thousand people.
“Yes?”
“My name is Shawna Gordon, reporter for the Sunny Times, could I ask you a few questions?”
My ears burned and I frantically searched for a way out that wouldn’t seem unnecessarily rude.
This was my nightmare.
I found it hard to believe it wasn’t a set up and I reminded myself to have some stern words with Joanne and Sam. One of them had to be behind this.
Forcing a grin onto my face I hoped was pleasant and not psychotic, I said, “I would love to but I need to speak at the public forum today.”
Her honey-brown eyes watched me intently for a moment clearly displeased that she wasn’t able to talk to me right then and there. “All right, rain check then!”
Shawna’s eyes followed me all the way up to the Town Hall. I felt them pinned to my back right between my shoulder blades forcing me to go through with the lie. I had zero intention of speaking at the forum. The deputy looked at me, then at a list. “Name?”
“Thomas Weller.” I shot a look over my shoulder, Shawna was still watching me with a razor-thin smile. Part of me hoped the deputy let me in while the other part wanted to be turned away.
I wasn’t sure which I feared more, speaking to a reporter, or speaking to the council.
He grunted. “Not on the list, sorry you can’t go in.”
I had a feeling it was the opposite, the way his eyes lit up in recognition. I was about to turn away when a voice called from inside, high and nasally. “Is that Thomas? Thomas Weller?”
The voice was faintly familiar. I searched my memories for a name that went with the voice but came up empty.
A young rail-thin woman walked toward the front of the Town Hall wearing a cream pantsuit. Her hair was black as night and pin-straight. Her face was thin and severe. She reminded me of a principal.
I was lost for a name with the voice or her looks. It wasn’t until she came out into the morning light that I saw her soft gray eyes and instantly the name slid into place. I should have recognized her sooner, considering I had seen her name and face on a few signs.
“Cynthia Rathborne! How are you?” This was the contact Claire had that confirmed they were going to be voting on the law. I still didn’t know how Claire knew her. We had all gone to the same school but I couldn’t remember ever interacting with her except maybe in passing.
And if I did, it hadn’t left a strong enough mark to make a memory.
She put a hand on the deputy’s shoulder. “Thomas Walker is a personal guest of mine. I’m sure we can make an exception for him, can’t we Dave?”
The deputy looked at me, then at her. His gaze melted and he looked at her like a lost puppy. “Sure, sure councilwoman. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine.” He looked at me. “So sorry about that Mister Weller.” He stepped aside to let me pass through.
Cynthia looped an arm around mine and guided me through the throngs of people and into the council chambers with its five high seats. It looked a bit like a courtroom with its tall podiums of dark wood and burnished flooring.
The place looked entirely different compared to the Halloween Bash. It felt like it was only yesterday I was teasing Claire about what costume I would be going as.
She pulled me right up to the front row and sat me in a padded seat along with dozens of other people, most of which were wearing suits and looking far more professional than I was with my black apron coated with flour.
My nerves rattled around as I waited impatiently. I kept wiping my palms on my jeans hoping to get rid of the sweat before somebody asked me to shake their hand or I had to hold a microphone.
I had no idea how these things worked. Would I go up to the podium and state my case like I was on trial? Did they pass around a mic? Or did we all line up behind a podium that wasn’t brought out yet?
Claire had only wanted me to delay but I had already done that. This was uncharted territory. I needed her here for this. What could I say that would stop them from voting against the best interests of the town? How could I tell them that they were going to destroy the town when I was nothing more than a simple business owner?
One that, until very recently, wouldn’t even be considered a success.
A whole bunch of failed thoughts tumbled around in my head while the world moved on around me.
I only noticed the quiet descend on the room after my name was called. I looked around, dozens of faces looked to me expectantly. At the other end of the room, the council members sat in their high seats watching me with impassive faces.
All except Cynthia who winked at me. Mayor Gunther looked at me with open hostility. He sat at the center on a slightly raised seat that put him above the rest but only slightly.
I wanted to run and hide from the attention. The spotlight was never for me. I preferred to work in the background.
Whoever it was that set this up, I’m going to kill them.
My legs were unsteady beneath me as I rose and walked out of the aisle I was seated in. They had brought out a little podium and I approached it.
Cynthia spoke first. “Mister Weller, I have it on good authority that you were the one that spearheaded this whole rally against the Protection Bill we’ll be voting on tomorrow in a closed session. What compelled you to do that?”
I leaned towards the mic awkwardly. “Uhm, well-” There was a hiss of feedback and I backed off. “It’s a bit of a long story.” Please let it be over.
“Humor us, Mister Weller.” That was from the mayor, his razor-thin smile was anything but friendly.
I pulled out the small note Claire had written, gathered what courage I could from it and stood a little straighter. I forced my gaze upon each of the five men and women ahead of me on their raised benches.
These were the people who decided it would be okay to destroy the town without so much as a notice to the town. They needed to know the town would not stand for it.
“I wanted to make sure the council knew what was at stake. That if you vote this bill through, not only will you be destroying Sunrise Valley but you will be surrendering your seats come the next election. This town was founded by immigrants looking for a better life. They c
ame to America to carve out a niche for themselves, not to isolate themselves from the fabric of the country.
“Sure we have our problems, what town doesn’t? But being an isolated community helps nobody. Look at all the good the people who have started to filter into town has done.” I caught Jonas in the crowd and pointed. “Jonas runs the butcher shop on Main Street down the street from me. He is one of the finest butchers I know with more than fair prices. His deli meats are awesome, by the way.”
That drew a faint smattering of chuckling.
“Since people from out of town have started to come to check out Sunrise Valley, he’s had to hire three assistants just to keep up with demand.” I scanned the crowd again, found Sandy sitting there in the middle row. “Sandy there owns a flower shop. I thought she used to hate me, sorry about that Sandy. But even though her shop isn’t on Main Street, she’s told me her business has improved too.
“All of these local businesses have started to come back to life, slowly but surely. If we adopt an isolationist strategy we’ll only be hurting ourselves. What good has come from turning people away? What would Sunrise Valley have been if our ancestors were turned away?”
The quiet that followed my rant was so complete you could hear a pin drop.
Cynthia looked at me and gave a nod of respect. “That was… an impassioned speech, Mister Weller. Thank you. Your comments will be taken into consideration.”
“Wait a moment,” said a younger pretty blonde woman, her voice all honey. “Mister Weller. Am I to understand that your speech, as lively as it was, is an admission that you are the organizer and originator of the unruly mob outside harassing government employees unlawfully on government property despite multiple attempts to disperse said group?”
The accusation hit me like a punch to the gut and I reeled for a long moment before I realized what was going on. What she was trying to say.
There was only one choice here. Anything else would erode whatever position I had tried to make. I put a little bit of Sam into my voice. Forced a smug grin. “That should have been more than obvious.” I motioned to the other council members. “I am sure your fellow council members already reached that assumption quite a while ago. But, if you require it for the record. Yes, I organized the rally that is protesting this egregious abuse of political influence.”
“Watch yourself, Mister Weller,” warned Mayor Gunther. “You are in quite enough trouble as it is for inciting unrest and protesting without a permit on government property.” He made a nod with his head. “Please, escort our resident baker out of here until charges can be formally pressed.”
I offered no resistance, I knew it would come to this once I saw what they were aiming for. I wasn’t going to make it any easier on them. At least, I hadn’t planned on it.
Not until I saw Beth’s face in the crowd. That smug grin on her face filled me with rage. As the deputy was placing the cuffs on my wrists I tilted my head up at the council and pitched my voice loudly for the entire chamber.
“We all know the Ingvars wield considerable power but nobody ever dares to stand up against them. They’re no better than bullies. When they can’t get their way they force others to do the dirty work for them.” I jerked my chin towards Beth. Nearly a hundred faces turned to her. Her smile evaporated.
“Look how smug she is, she knows she’s untouchable. She’s already won. Because you all let her. They haven’t used their vast fortune for the good of the town except to buy up properties and let them rot. Just look at the pathetic state of Main Street. We wanted to fix that and instead you side with people who would rather bleed you dry and convince you it’s their birthright. They think they are owed it. This town is ours, not theirs!”
By now the deputy was hastily dragging me away. Unfortunately for him, I was quite a bit stronger and larger than the man and in my rising anger, I stood my ground.
That is until he kicked my knee out behind me and I collapsed. The council chambers were in an uproar as I was dragged out of there, my shoulders ached from the effort but I stopped resisting.
I had made it worse enough already.
Not too long after I was pulled up to my feet on the steps of the hall, I saw Beth storm out, her face red with anger. She shot me one dagger-pointed glance and vanished into the booing crowd below.
A few people out front, Sam most notably, saw me in cuffs and pointed. She said something I couldn’t hear up the steps and a roar of noise rippled up and down the crowd.
That doesn’t look friendly.
For the first time since assembling the rally, I realized what it must look like from the councilmembers’ position and those that were charged with policing the Town Hall.
It looked like the start of a riot.
“I’m really sorry about that, is your shoulder okay?” asked Dave, oblivious to the growing unrest below.
I gave him a nod, rolled it experimentally. It was still sore but otherwise fine.
“How about we take you down to the station so you can be away from all this?” he offered, finally catching on to the shift in the wind.
We both looked at the crowd below and the few honorary deputies hired to cordon off the Town Hall for this meeting once word of the rally spread.
It should be painfully obvious to Dave, as it was to me, that even if all of the Sherriff’s department was here - all five of them - they didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in Hell of containing the crowd if it took a nasty turn.
I nodded towards the pointing fingers and angry faces. “I don’t know, Dave. Might want to ask them. We have to go through that group after all.”
To his credit, he didn’t quail at the thought. He kept a watchful eye and then turned to me. “Might be best to wait.”
“Might be.”
I could see him trying to work it out. Which would be worse, keeping me up here in cuffs as a reminder of what was going on and possibly a focal point for unrest, or trying to take me down to the Sherriff’s office where I’d likely be detained.
That is if we could even make it through the crowd.
Dave appeared to prefer his chances up here in plain view. Couldn’t say I blamed him.
“You’re not going to make a run for it, are ya Thomas?” he asked with obvious concern.
I rolled my shoulders into a shrug. “Not really. Said my piece, I’m willing to pay the price for it.” I jerked my chin at the crowd. “And for whatever bullshit charges I’m apparently guilty of.”
“Yeah… about that, I don’t know if the Sherriff is going to let it slide, truth be told. Here, turn around.” Dave kept talking as I turned away. He fiddled with my handcuffs and unlocked them a second later. I chafed my wrists where the metal had bit in.
“Why do you think that?” Though I already knew why. He hated me.
Small wonder he wouldn’t be willing to let something as trivial as a ‘protest permit’ slide. I was actually surprised he wasn’t at the rally busting me himself.
I turned back to look at the crowd. I waved at Sam, she waved back and whooped at me.
“You did all this?” asked Dave, hiking a thumb at the crowd. “Mighty big turnout for such a small town. It looks like damn near everybody.”
“What can I say? People don’t like it when you threaten to destroy their town.”
“You really believe that?” He edged closer and dropped his voice. “You think they’re making the wrong mistake if they approve the law?”
I tried to tone down the annoyance in my face and voice when I answered. “I wouldn’t have bothered with what I’ve done, or the time I’ve spent if I didn’t.”
Dave seemed to struggle with the idea that somebody would do and say the things they meant. To follow up with what they believed with actual action. I could never imagine living any other way.
“It’s easy to say you stand up for freedom of speech and all that good shit when it costs you nothing,” I said matter-of-factly without looking at Dave.
I was still floored by how
many people showed up and from up here I could see the sea of people clearly. “It doesn’t matter what people say when the cost is low, or non-existent to do so. The moment to measure somebody’s mettle is when their actions have real consequences and costs for what they say. Watch how many ‘rebels’ toe the party line all of a sudden.”
Something caught my eye, a faint glimmer, and a thin smudge past the curve of Main Street back towards my part of town. “What is that?”
25
Gavin
Knead, rotate ninety-degrees, knead with the heel of the palm, rotate… I repeated the mantra over and over in my head from watching Thomas kneading bread on my first day at work.
I had my earbuds in listening to the Foo Fighters while I worked. I found it helped to have music while I worked. It quieted my mind.
Thomas would be so proud to see all the bread already kneaded and put away in the proofing oven when he came back later tonight. I know I only started as an apprentice recently but I really could see this as my career.
I loved cooking and Thomas was a great teacher.
Most places I interviewed at took one look at my chubby cheeks and the way I stammered over the simplest phrases and wrote me off as somebody who could only do retail work.
I wanted to do more than that. Only I didn’t have enough money to get a college degree and in this town there weren’t many well-paying jobs.
Or many jobs at all. Sunrise Valley had been circling the drain ever since I was in diapers and my dad got laid off at the lumber mill.
No, I was going to be different. I was going to see the world and be a famous pastry chef and tour the world collecting odd recipes from each nation I visited.
And I would never forget my humble beginnings or the man- what was that?
I took off my earbuds. Sounded like somebody dropped a dish. A quick glance at the kitchen showed me as the only person here. Weird, maybe it was-
Another crash, this time I heard it clearly.
It was coming from the front of the shop.
I hurried to the front, afraid that Sam or one of the clerks was hurt. Maybe they fell.
Bun in Her Oven Page 18