Chapter 3

3

E merson hoped today would be the turning point in her already chaotic summer. Ethel's death— and the unexpected inheritance of The Bake House —had thrown a curve into Emerson's orderly world.

She had given up teaching in order to take over the bakery. The trouble was, she had absolutely no experience in running a business. While she technically was in business herself, she was her sole employee, baking cakes for Harper's clients. She didn't have to pay anyone else or worry about health insurance and taxes and a thousand other headaches that she now had. Ethel had not only been a talented baker. Her friend had also run her bakery with ease, treating her employees as family. Emerson wanted to continue that.

Thanks to Dax, she was well on her way to figuring out things. He had given her a crash course in bookkeeping, helping to interpret Ethel's spreadsheets. As a former accountant, he had an affinity with numbers she would never feel comfortable with. Dax had taken her under his wing, explaining things in layman's terms. When Emerson had still struggled with many of the details, he had asked if he could simply become her accountant—for free. She had protested, telling him she didn't want to take advantage of their friendship. He had assured her that The Bake House business wasn't terribly complicated and wouldn't cost him much time. They had come to an arrangement, where she would pay him a flat monthly fee, one she believed was far below what she should be paying him but was the number he had pushed for when she insisted upon paying him for his time and effort. Dax would handle payroll, taxes, and health insurance for her. At least until she could find a manager to do so.

Emerson didn't want to devote all of her time to The Bake House. While she enjoyed baking and would continue to do so at the bakery she had inherited, she really thrived when creating the wedding and groom's cakes needed for Weddings with Hart. Because of that, she needed a full-time presence at the bakery, someone she trusted.

And that was why Rhiannon Temple was coming to Lost Creek today.

They had worked together at an Austin bakery while Emerson attended college. Rhiannon was a few years younger, a high school dropout who'd earned her GED. She was by far one of the most intelligent people Emerson had ever known, someone bored by school and conventionality. If anyone could be trusted to take over the day-to-day management of The Bake House, it would be Rhiannon.

She turned to Frank, a bald, short, stout man who'd worked for Ethel the past five years. Frank was dyslexic and couldn't really read, but he was one hell of a baker. His specialties were pies, cookies, and breads.

"My friend will be here soon, Frank. Why don't you take a break and let me finish up on those macaroons for you?"

"Nah. I don't need a break, Emerson. When I used to smoke, I woulda jumped at the chance to squeeze in another cigarette. Since I quit, I just like doing what I'm doing. And ya know what? I can taste things better now. And I don't go home and stink of smoke all the time."

She knew many in the restaurant field smoked and had never understood it, knowing the habit dulled the palate.

"Okay, then. Finish up and then head home. I'll see you tomorrow."

"I may stick around and meet this friend of yours," he said. "Check her out. See if she's good enough to work here."

"That's fine with me," she said, hoping Frank— and Jill —wouldn't be put off by Rhiannon's appearance.

Emerson went to the front of the store, where Jill was ringing up a customer. She waited until the clerk finished the transaction and the customer exited the store.

"It's close to three," she said. "My friend Rhiannon will be here soon."

"Good. We could use the extra help," Jill said.

She couldn't help but like the mother of two. Jill was in her mid-forties, her brown hair threaded with gray. She was an empty nester, with both her kids in college. Jill was always friendly and willing to go the extra mile and was good with the two teenagers who came in and worked the Saturday and Sunday shifts, when the bakery was at its busiest.

"Guess I'll sweep up," Jill said as the bell above the door jingled.

Emerson turned, spying Rhiannon. "You haven't changed a bit," she said, going to greet her old friend with a hug.

"Maybe a few more tats," Rhiannon said, holding up her right arm, covered in a sleeve of tattoos. "Other than that, I'm still me."

"As thin as ever. I don't see how you can be the baker you are and not like sweets."

Rhiannon shrugged. "Sweets don't like me. They do funny things to my gut health."

"Come meet Jill and Frank," she urged, taking the flame-haired woman over to Jill.

She introduced the pair, and they began talking animatedly, so Emerson slipped away and fetched Frank, bringing him to the front to also talk with Rhiannon. Soon, the three chatted as old friends, and Emerson knew the pair had accepted her friend.

"Come to the back and let me show you our equipment," Emerson said.

"I'll sweep up and mop," Jill said.

"I'll help with that," Frank added. "Good to meet ya, Rhiannon."

Her friend flashed a smile. "Same."

They went to the rear of the bakery, and Emerson proudly showed off the various ovens and other equipment.

"Your Ethel didn't skimp, did she?" Rhiannon said, clearly impressed with the setup.

"No," she said. "Ethel did everything first class. She spent her entire life here. Born in the upstairs apartment. Started helping her parents when she was young. Baking was in her blood. She wasn't shy about investing in the latest technology in a kitchen. Ethel was friendly with the entire town."

"But she left her bakery to you," Rhiannon pointed out. "That speaks volumes, Em."

She frowned. "We were friendly, but we weren't really friends," she admitted. "I was shocked when I found out she'd bequeathed all this to me."

"Ethel recognized you would be a good steward of her legacy," her friend said. "A bakery in a small town on the town square? That's an integral part of a place. I know you worked for her some."

"Yes, I was here part-time for a couple of years. I worked weekends and summers when I had breaks from teaching. Then I had an opportunity to work for my friend Harper as her exclusive baker of cakes for the events she plans, mostly weddings. I do the wedding and groom's cakes, several of each every week."

"You always had a flair for that when we worked together in Austin."

She nodded. "I'm happiest when I'm designing cakes for weddings," she admitted. "I like the creative challenge. Making every cake different from other ones. Incorporating the bride and groom's ideas into their special day." She sighed. "I just can't keep doing that and run The Bake House full-time. There aren't enough hours in the day. That's why I asked you here to talk about offering you that job."

"What exactly do you have in mind?" Rhiannon asked.

"I'd remain the owner and would come in and assist Frank in the early morning baking, but you'd be the manager. You'd bake. Run the store. Handle ordering supplies. Keep the books if you'd like, or I have someone who can do that for me. I know you're savvy when it comes to graphics. You'd also be in charge of the website." She hesitated. "I know Lost Creek might not quite have the appeal that Austin does, though. I'm not exactly sure what Patch would do here."

Patch and Rhiannon had dated off and on since eighth grade. While Emerson thought Rhiannon could do better, she had to accept they had been a package deal for more than a dozen years.

Rhiannon laughed. "Honey, you couldn't have hit me up at a better time. I just broke up with Patch. Again. And yes, this time it's permanent."

"Are you sure? Seems as if I've heard this before."

Her friend nodded. "I mean it this time. Patch is never going to make anything of himself. He'd rather get high all day than do any kind of meaningful work. He can't hold a job. I'm tired of him sponging off me and told him so."

Rhiannon hesitated. "Frankly, I'm also tired of putting up with the cheating. Patch is nice to look at, but his eyes stray more often than not. I've taken him back time and time again. Coming to Lost Creek is a chance for me to move up, in both money and responsibility. And to cut ties with him. He'd never fit into a small town like this. He'd never follow me here. I know that. He needed a reason to tell me we're done. I needed the same." She paused. "If you'll give me this chance, Em, you won't regret it. You know I'm a hard worker. I'm a whiz in the kitchen. I get along with people. I'm also great with numbers."

Relief swept through her. "Oh, you're my dream hire, Rhiannon. I had just worried about the Patch piece of things."

"That piece has been tossed in the trash. It was too worn out to repair," Rhiannon assured her. "When can I start? And where's a good place to live?"

While Emerson liked Rhiannon, she had enjoyed the past month of living on her own and didn't want a new roommate anytime soon.

Instead, she said, "I can offer you the apartment above the bakery. Ethel lived there all her life. It's furnished." She chuckled. "Not to your taste, necessary, but you wouldn't have to buy anything right away."

Rhiannon's smile lit up her face. "Let's go see it."

They went upstairs and walked through the place. It was a two-bedroom apartment, and Ethel had used one bedroom for herself and the other as an office. It also had a living room, kitchen, and full bath and laundry room.

Rhiannon spun in a circle. "Wow. This is perfect. I'd want it for that giant claw foot tub alone. How much do you want in rent?'

They discussed a fair price and agreed upon a figure, with Emerson saying the rent could come directly out of Rhiannon's salary.

"I like that. I like Frank and Jill. This is the fresh start I've needed, Em." Tears filled Rhiannon's eyes. "I feel so lucky that this opportunity came along when it did."

They chatted a bit more about the employees' schedule and decided that Emerson would come in three days a week to bake cakes for the bakery, mostly special orders for birthdays and other occasions, along with a couple for display each day, which she usually sold by the slice. She would devote the rest of the time to her own cake baking business.

"Maybe we can cut your days back to two a week once I get a handle on things," Rhiannon told her.

"We can work it out," she agreed. "Nothing is set in stone as far as I'm concerned. I'm just grateful you want to take on this role at The Bake House. It'll allow me to concentrate on my side business, which brings me joy. So, when can you start?"

Rhiannon laughed. "Girl, I can start tomorrow. Or today if you need me."

She frowned. "What about giving your old boss a week's notice?

"I told you that you'd called at the perfect time, Em. I meant that. When I decided to end things with Patch, that meant I was done with Austin, too, and our life there. I knew if I stayed, I'd give in. Again. And I'd never escape the circle. I left my bakery job a week ago. Got rid of some things. Sold a few others. Packed my car and drove here. If this didn't work out between us, I was simply gonna drive until I found a place I thought I might like. I think Lost Creek will be a great new home."

Emerson hugged Rhiannon. "That's wonderful. Thanks so much."

Rhiannon looked at her steadily. "No, thank you. You're giving me a terrific opportunity. It'll let me cut the cord with the past and get a new start in a different place. Even if Patch gets bored, he won't have the inclination to pursue me to Lost Creek. Not that I even told him I was leaving Austin."

"I cleaned the apartment after Ethel's death. It's a little dusty now. I've already gotten rid of everything in her closets but kept the linens and towels and all the kitchen things. It's up to you to keep what you want and toss out the rest."

Rhiannon threw her arms about Emerson. "You are the best boss ever."

They walked downstairs again, and she showed her friend where she could park in back and the separate entrance she could come and go from without always having to cut through the bakery. Emerson also gave Rhiannon keys to the bakery and the apartment.

As they went to Rhiannon's battered sedan, Emerson said, "I want you to realize you'll be in charge. Once you've been here a while, if you want to change anything— the bakery's hours, add things to the menu, whatever —I want you to feel free to do so."

"Thanks for giving me that freedom. I really appreciate it." Rhiannon gave her a hug. "And living on the square, I can walk to several places. I saw a coffeehouse when I drove in. That'll be nice and convenient. You know how I love my coffee."

"Dax Tennyson runs Java Junction. He and his wife Ivy are good friends of mine. I'll have to introduce you to them."

Rhiannon said she would move her things in now, waving away Emerson's offer to help. "I can handle everything. To be honest, I don't have much. Go and do what you've got to do. I'll see you in the morning. Right now, I want to get my stuff in and then roll up my sleeves and see all the bakery has to offer."

Emerson felt a burden slip from her shoulders. With Rhiannon's head for figures, maybe Dax could teach her enough so that Rhiannon could totally take over management of The Bake House. She wouldn't rush things, though. She wanted to give her friend time to settle in and take the reins slowly. Rhiannon's skill was in her baking. The Bake House wouldn't lack for quality.

She decided to head home and shower before heading to the winery. Harper had invited her to attend a small dinner for a friend who was returning from military service. He was the son of Shelly, owner of the Lone Star Diner on the square, and Shy, who owned and operated Blackwood BBQ on Main Street a few blocks away. Emerson had baked a molten mocha chocolate cake for tonight's dessert, having learned the guest of honor was a chocoholic.

After she got out of the shower, she dressed and spritzed on a bit of perfume and a bit of lip gloss. Emerson had never been into makeup because she'd never been able to afford it growing up in foster care. By the time she was on her own, she thought of makeup as a luxury and not a necessity, unlike most every female student at UT. Then as an elementary school teacher, she hadn't thought she needed to wear it, teaching eight-year-olds all day. Still, she liked how she looked when she wore lip gloss and didn't mind applying it for tonight.

Her cell rang, and Ivy's picture popped up.

Answering, she said, "Hey, Ivy. What's up?"

"Could you do me a huge favor and pick up Ry? He's at Harper's house. She stashed him there so his parents wouldn't see him. I was supposed to pick him up and take him to the winery at five-thirty."

"Sure, I can do that for you. Is everything okay?"

"It's fine. I just need to take a call from Clive about my show. I didn't want to be yacking with him and leave Ry twiddling his thumbs in the car."

"Will do," she assured her friend. Glancing at the clock, she said, "In fact, I'll leave now."

"Thanks, Em. You're a lifesaver," Ivy told her.

Emerson went to her ancient Mini Cooper, which was on its last legs. Since Ethel had left her almost sixty thousand dollars, in addition to The Bake House, she'd felt like a Mega Millions winner. Her goal was to purchase a new, reliable car as soon as she could find the time to do so.

She reached Harper and Braden's house and pulled into the driveway, going to the front door and ringing the bell, hoping it wouldn't be awkward, talking to a stranger as they drove to Lost Creek Winery. She'd never been good at throwing herself out there and told herself it took less than ten minutes to reach the winery. Even she could survive that long.

The door opened— and suddenly she couldn't breathe.

The man standing in front of her was devastatingly handsome. Probably six-two, almost a foot taller than she was. He had black hair, laughing blue eyes, and a killer body.

Swallowing— and trying to be as nonchalant as possible —she said, "Hi, I'm Emerson. Ivy asked if I could stop by and pick you up and bring you to the winery for the surprise party."

His voice was low as he rumbled, "I can't think of a better welcoming committee." He thrust a hand in her direction. "I'm Ry Blackwood."

She took it, a surge of electricity zipping through her. This had never happened before. Never. Ever. She looked at him wordlessly.

Something told her things had taken an interesting turn— and that Ry Blackwood might become someone important in her life.