Chapter 7

7

E merson put the finishing touches on the cake she was decorating for Mayor Bennett's birthday this evening. She was glad she had been able to have something to keep her mind occupied.

Because Ry Blackwood kept dominating her thoughts.

Usually, she fell asleep quickly. Last night, however, she struggled to do so. Thoughts of the handsome, ex-military man continually flooded her mind. If this was what it was like to be taken with someone, she was glad no man up until this point had ever distracted her so. It made her a little more sympathetic to the failed relationships she had watched Finley go through over the years.

Rhiannon asked, "Are you done with the mayor's cake, Emerson?"

"I am. I was just about to put it in a cake box and mark it for Mrs. Bennett."

Rhiannon nodded crisply. "Do that and then come upstairs. I'd like to run some things by you regarding The Bake House."

She set the cake onto a piece of cardboard and then folded the box around it.

"I'll take care of the rest, Emerson," Frank said cheerfully.

"Thanks," she replied, heading toward the stairs and up to the apartment.

The door was open, and Emerson walked in, finding Rhiannon at the small kitchen table, her laptop open.

Rhiannon asked bluntly, "Am I truly the manager of this bakery?"

"You know you are," Emerson assured her old friend. "I trust you implicitly. You're a talented baker, and you've also got a great head for numbers. That's why I brought you in as manager."

"Then I hope you'll take everything I say in the spirit in which it's offered." Rhiannon paused. "You were in the way this morning, Emerson."

Reflecting on how crowded the kitchen was this morning, she nodded in agreement. "You're right. The kitchen is set up for two bakers. Not three. You and Frank had a good system going, and I realize I was a third wheel in your way. What do you suggest?"

"It's summer. That has to be your busy season as far as baking wedding and groom's cakes go," Rhiannon pointed out. "I know we'd talked about you coming in three mornings a week, but I just don't see that being necessary. Or feasible. Between Frank and me, we can get everything baked that needs to go out on the shelves each morning. As far as specialty cakes go? I can actually bake those cakes and have you come in and decorate them once the morning rush is done. I'm good at decorating, but you have a true creative flair."

"When do you suggest I show up?"

"Our big baking rush is three to six in the morning," Rhiannon said thoughtfully. "Then there's the morning crowd coming in for their donuts, bagels, and kolaches. Things slow down by nine o'clock. I think that would be a good time for you to show up. Nine, ten. And that's only if you have cakes to decorate on special orders. Then you could leave. It would be a better use of our time and the baking space."

"That's a smart plan. I'm glad you decided this. It's the reason I hired you to manage The Bake House for me."

"I can always text you pictures of the request forms for special orders and the dates they'll be picked up. You wouldn't be bound to come in daily. Just when needed."

"Communication is the most important aspect in a business to me," she told Rhiannon. "If you'll simply keep me apprised of the cakes I'm responsible for, I can come in and do them during off-hours. Even late afternoons or evenings once the bakery has closed."

"I'll take as many orders off your plate as I can," her new manager assured her. "You said you trust me, and I want to do right by you. I know how busy you have to be at the winery with weddings. Maybe we can adjust things once summer ends. That is, if the wedding season slows down for you. I'm glad you're comfortable with me baking special order cakes and simply letting you decorate them."

"I'm good with that. I'll only come in to ice and decorate cakes that you text me about. You baking the cakes will save me time. I still want to check in on a regular basis, though."

"That's fine with me," Rhiannon said. "After all, The Bake House is your bakery." She hesitated and then added, "I already know of some changes I'm ready to make, however. Things which will streamline things for us."

"Such as? Give me a few examples."

"I've been going back through inventory and records. I think for efficiency's sake, we can cut down on the variety of some items we bake. Kolaches are one of the most popular items at The Bake House, but Ethel— and now you —are offering a dozen flavors a day. That doesn't make sense to me. My idea is to stick with the four basic ones which are the best sellers. Sausage, apple, peach, and cream cheese. Have those available every day since they're our big sellers and then have an extra one or two flavors each day beyond that. Rotate those. So, for example, only bake plum on Tuesdays and pear on Saturdays. It would really make baking kolaches easier. It might even pull in people a little more often if they didn't know when one of those flavors is available. Or I could post on the website and here in The Bake House. Put up a daily whiteboard special of things only available that day."

"I like that idea a lot," Emerson said enthusiastically. "As you said, you'd be offering the four basics that sell the most. As long as we offer those every time the doors open, I think we'll be fine alternating other flavors. Anything else?"

Rhiannon launched into her analysis of the different pastries, cakes, cookies, and pies, sharing with Emerson which ones she wanted to make on a regular basis and which ones should only be offered a couple of times a week.

"I've run the numbers. We won't lose any business by cutting down on our offerings. It could save on waste, actually."

"I trust your opinion," Emerson said. "Have on hand the items you know sell the most, and you can supplement as you go along. That's why I have you in charge. For the knowledge you bring, along with your baking skills."

Rhiannon took Emerson' hand and squeezed it. "Thanks for your faith in me. I never want to shut you out. I'm merely trying to make the bakery run as efficiently as possible."

"I get that. If I were only focused on The Bake House, I probably would've implemented some of the very ideas you've mentioned. With my attention torn between here and Weddings with Hart, it would've taken me longer to figure these kinds of things out. You've got the expertise, Rhiannon. Make the changes you want. In the future? I appreciate you running those big changes by me, but don't think I have to hear every little idea. Go with your gut. You're the manager. You make the call."

They decided to set up a bi-weekly meeting, where Rhiannon would share the figures of what The Bake House had pulled in during the two-week period, and they could study what was selling, what wasn't, and what they would add and delete from the menus, especially when it came to seasonal items, such as pumpkin bread in the fall and Santa sugar cookies at Christmastime.

Emerson sat back in her chair and expelled a long breath. "I can't tell you how relieved I am that you've come on board. I don't feel the pressure of my attention split in two directions, not giving either of my ventures the time they need to thrive. Have you settled into the apartment okay?"

"Everything's fine. It's nice to have a furnished kitchen and all the linens provided. And the furniture already here was a huge help."

"I'm glad it's all worked out for you, Rhiannon."

"How are you doing?"

She felt herself flush, thoughts of Ry Blackwood coming to mind. "Good. Really good. As you mentioned, I'm incredibly busy, baking cakes for Harper's clients. It's really been a lot of fun, exercising my creativity in designing and constructing cakes for weddings. I have the most fun with the groom's cakes, though. It's the one time a guy can really own a part of the planning process. Yes, some of them come to the food tastings, but they don't really get too involved in how to decorate tables or what flowers are used in bouquets. The groom's cake is their time to shine. Bring a bit of themselves to the wedding."

"Do you ever bake any wedding cakes for The Bake House now?" her friend asked.

"I used to occasionally, before Harper opened her event center. Ethel encouraged me to bake exclusively for Weddings with Hart, so I quit my part-time job here. I'm not sure how many wedding cake orders come into the bakery now."

"I couldn't find any in the last three months," her manager told her. "Maybe for a small wedding, people might have come in and bought a plain, unadorned white sheet cake and then Ethel could have piped on some rosettes or labeled congrats to the couple on it." Rhiannon smiled. "I'm so glad you took everything I recommended the way you did, Emerson."

"You're the boss of The Bake House," she assured Rhiannon. "I needed to be told that I was in the way. I get that you and Frank can handle all the baking needs here. Two bakers are more than adequate. I'll look for texts from you and drop by when I need to, but I'm happy to focus the bulk of my time at the winery. Since The Bake House is closed on Mondays, maybe we could get together and have lunch next Monday. Not as employer and employee, but as two friends catching up."

"I'd really like that, Emerson. I'm so happy to have a fresh start here in Lost Creek. Already, I can tell this is going to be the job of my dreams. And I also have a good friend here, too."

They made plans to meet at Lone Star Diner at ten Monday morning since Rhiannon was wild about breakfast foods and diners were her favorite.

"I may not see you before then," Emerson said. "I've got several weddings coming up in the next few days. Text me if you need anything, though."

"I will," Rhiannon promised.

Emerson drove to Lost Creek Winery. Once she was in the event center kitchen, she opened her tablet and consulted it for what needed to be baked today. Weddings were booked on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, as well as an anniversary party Sunday afternoon.

She began pulling out her supplies and mixing bowls, setting the ovens to preheat as she mixed various batters based upon the notes she'd taken from cake tastings with these brides and grooms.

While cakes baked, she played with some new designs to show future clients.

"Hey, you," Harper said, entering the kitchen. She inhaled deeply. "Oh, I love to come in here and smell your cakes baking. You should figure out how to bottle the sweetness in the air and sell it as a perfume. It would rule the market."

Emerson laughed. "Not everything can be monetized, Harper. You did a great job for last night's surprise party. Shelly and Shy looked so happy to have their son home."

Harper took a seat at the table. "It did go well, didn't it?" She studied Emerson a moment. "You seemed to be having a pretty good time."

"It was nice of you to include me, especially since I don't know Ry."

"Braden didn't know him either, but I still had him come." Harper laughed. "I think he and Ry will become good friends, though." She grew quiet a moment, her face thoughtful. "Ry was my brother Todd's best friend from the time they were in diapers. They left Lost Creek right after high school graduation and joined the army together. It was what Ry wanted to do. See the world. Todd was happy to accompany him. They were as close as brothers."

Harper paused. "I know Ry still blames himself for my brother's death. He shouldn't. He wasn't even part of the training exercise when Todd was killed."

Though Emerson didn't know Ry Blackwood well, she understood him. He would feel a responsibility for the death of his friend, someone he'd talked into tagging along to see the world.

Harper brightened. "Ry seemed pretty interested in you."

She shrugged non-committedly. "We were the only two unattached people in the room last night. Everyone else was a married couple."

"I saw how he was looking at you," Harper pushed. "I think Ry is interested in you, Em. It wouldn't surprise me if he asked you out. And I hope you'll go."

"Why?" she asked.

"You've lived like a nun ever since I've known you. You have an incredible work ethic, but life isn't all about work. You need balance— or you're going to burn out. Braden has taught me that. Ry is a lot of fun to be around. I think you would have a good time with him."

She shook her head. "Don't take this wrong, Harper, but he's too good-looking a guy to be interested in someone like me."

"Are you kidding me?" Harper asked, slamming her palms on the table. "You're beautiful, smart, and kind. Really funny, Em. You're exactly Ry's type."

"Nope. I know you're friends with him and that he's like family to you, but I think he's a big flirt. I don't' want to get involved with someone who's a player. Remember that coach Finley dated? He was really nice-looking, but he thought way too much of himself. I don't need that kind of drama in my life, Harper. No matter how hot the guy is."

"Ry may have been a ladies' man in high school. Correction. He definitely was a ladies' man in high school. That smile of his could charm the socks off any girl. I noticed a maturity about him, though, last night, Emerson. He's come home to Lost Creek and is ready to settle down. I think Ry might surprise you. All I'm asking is that if he does ask you out, give him a chance. He's a really good guy."

Emerson kept to herself that Ry Blackwood had already asked her on a date for this weekend —and that she had become paralyzed at the idea. She'd barely been able to string two words together after he offered to take her out this coming Friday night. She decided to stay quiet about it.

Instead, she said, "I will see him tonight at your house. Braden told me he's cooking Mexican food for our dinner because he thought Ry must've missed eating it."

Harper's eyes lit up. "That's my favorite kind of food. And what dessert are you going to be bringing to match that theme?"

"I'm going to be making chocolate tacos. In fact, I better get started on them as soon as my cakes come out of the oven."

The timer went off for the cakes and she smiled. "See? I've got lots to do."

"I can take a hint," Harper said, standing and pushing her chair in. "I'll see you— and Ry —tonight."

After Harper left, Emerson removed the various cake layers from their pans and let them cool. She had researched the idea of chocolate tacos previously and would now merge several of those recipes together to come up with her interpretation of the dessert.

As she worked, she couldn't help but think chocoholic Ry Blackwood was going to approve of tonight's dessert.