Читать книгу Bet on My Heart - J.M. Jeffries - Страница 12

Chapter 4

Hendrix parked her car across the street from Mitzi’s bakery. She sat for a moment deep breathing, trying to get up the courage to pick up her last paycheck all while avoiding Mitzi’s two daughters.

Mitzi was only in her early seventies, and there was still a lot of life in her. Mitzi hadn’t wanted to retire, but she’d had a ministroke and seen the writing on the wall. So Hendrix had made an offer to buy half the bakery and Mitzi had accepted. Mitzi made plans to do some traveling, but then she’d had a major stroke and lapsed into a coma. Lisa and Susie had promised they would keep the bakery on its feet, but then told Hendrix the buy-in deal was off because there was no physical contract to support her assertion that Mitzi wanted to sell her half the bakery. Hendrix had been furious. To have her dream within reach and then removed had left her ready to spit nails. Instead, she’d walked out and never returned.

She felt guilty for jumping ship. She owed Mitzi, but she couldn’t stand Mitzi’s daughters and knew her heart wouldn’t be in her baking. And not loving her work would be worse than making crappy food.

Hendrix pushed open the door. The overhead blower, designed to keep flies out, activated.

The bakery wasn’t large. Five small tables were arranged along the window in the front with the bakery case. The register and prep area took up almost the entire back half of the room. No one stood behind the register and Hendrix tried not to frown. Lisa and Susie should have known better than to leave the register untended. Mitzi had been robbed once by a man who’d simply reached over, pushed the open button and grabbed the tray when the drawer slid open.

Besides the smell of yeasty baked goods, the added aroma of coffee filled the room. A couple of Mitzi’s regulars sat at the tables. They all turned and looked at her.

“Hendrix,” Josie Richland yelled. “Are you back? Please say you’re back. Please, please, please.” She folded her hands in prayer. Josie was a tall, slim woman in her midthirties with pale hair bleached almost white by the sun. Her skin was an attractive tan, testament to her many hours a week jogging so she could eat Hendrix’s champagne cake.

Hendrix was too surprised to say anything. She just shook her head and stared at the other woman who ran across the old tile floor to fling her arms around Hendrix.

“What’s wrong?” Hendrix said.

“The champagne cake sucks. The strudel is obnoxious and the cupcakes are like rocks. The only decent thing here is the coffee. Mitzi and you aren’t here anymore, and the bakery is sliding into oblivion.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Please tell us where you’ve landed so we can change over. We’ve just been hanging around hoping to catch you.”

“I came to get my last check,” Hendrix explained. “Where is everyone?”

“Lisa is God knows where. Susie’s probably in the alley smoking. Billy is in the back getting beans for a fresh batch of coffee. And don’t worry—we were watching the register for him. I know you always said never to leave it unattended. Though I doubt there’s much money in it.” Josie looked sad.

Billy pushed through the double doors leading into the back carrying a bag of coffee. “Sorry it took so long. Lisa and Susie haven’t ordered supplies for over a week. This is the last bag.” He held up the coffee. His gaze lit up when he saw Hendrix. “Are you back? Cause if you aren’t, you need to find a way to get me out of here.”

Billy attended Reno Community College and studied restaurant management. Hendrix was never sure how he would get a job with his dark Goth look, tats and piercings, even if he did have charm and he was the best assistant baker she’d ever had. What that man could do with bread was what Miles Davis did with a trumpet. Sheer heavenly magic.

In the past week, her desserts were proving to be very popular, and eventually she would need an assistant. Billy would be great. He didn’t complain about the four-to-noon work hours or the hot ovens or even the occasional burns. As long as she worked around his school schedule, he was good to go.

She would talk to Donovan. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Where do you work now?” Josie asked.

“At the Mariposa.”

“I’ve heard they have this famous Parisian chef overseeing the restaurant.”

“Yeah,” Hendrix said, “with his big Paris ego.” Should she have said that?.

Josie laughed. “Has he tried your champagne cake?”

“He has...”

“And that wasn’t enough for him to put up with your...eccentricities.”

“We’re still learning to dance,” Hendrix admitted.

“I thought I heard you out here,” Lisa called out from the back. She pushed through the half doors that led to the baking area. Unlike her mother who was comfortably round and soft, Lisa was all thin, hard edges. Her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back from a narrow face and her dark blue eyes glared at Hendrix suspiciously.

“I came for my check,” Hendrix explained.

Lisa opened the register, pulled the drawer out of the tray and took out an envelope. “Here’s your check, but you need to tell us where all the recipes are before I give it to you. Especially the champagne cake. We can’t find anything.”

“You can’t withhold my check.” She snatched it out of Lisa’s hand.

“If you walk out of this store without giving me the recipes, I’ll cancel it before you can get to the bank.”

Hendrix’s eyes narrowed. “You realize that’s against the law. And I have all these witnesses.”

Josie gave Lisa a death stare and even Billy puffed up his chest preparing to go on the offensive.

Lisa seemed unimpressed. “So sue me.”

She turned to leave. “Bye.” She wasn’t going to be intimidated by this woman.

Lisa grabbed her. “Where are the recipes? They belong to this bakery.”

“The recipes belong to me. And you can get a champagne cake recipe off the internet if you need one.”

Lisa’s blue eyes tightened. “You developed them while you worked here, which means they belong to us.”

“No. They’re mine.” Hendrix pointed to her head. “But they could have been yours if you’d taken my offer and let me buy half the bakery.”

Fury filled Lisa’s eyes. “Those recipes are mine.” She turned and stomped toward the back.

Josie grinned. Billy looked as if he wanted to hide somewhere. He needed this job and he wasn’t about to antagonize Lisa too much. Hendrix patted Billy’s shoulder. “We’ll be fine. I’ve only been there a week, but once I’m settled in, I’ll see if I can get you a job in the restaurant.”

Billy nodded and returned to making the coffee.

Josie looked around. “I kind of hate leaving this place. We had some good times here, but it appears to have turned into a hostile customer environment.”

“You all need to come over to the Mariposa,” Hendrix told the few people left in the bakery. “I’ll cook you up something special. We have a cute little diner that serves the best hamburgers in town.”

“We’ll see you there,” Josie said after giving Hendrix a hug.

A few of the other customers nodded.

Hendrix felt bad about the decline in the bakery. She’d put a lot of work into the place and loved it. With Mitzi unable to communicate, her two daughters had decided to keep it all. The bakery had made good money. But from the look of it now, it was barely breaking even.

She was angry and sad—sad for Mitzi and angry with her daughters. They had taken a successful business and scuttled it. Hendrix knew Lisa and Susie thought if they could get her recipes they could lure back customers. They didn’t understand that the bakery was more than just cakes, doughnuts and pies—it was customers, atmosphere and soul. The food had been the heart and Mitzi had been the soul.