Chapter Four

Windemere Branch of Sterling Savings and Loan

A Formal Introduction

Susana crossed the main road running through the small town of Windemere, the path to the bank a straight line from her bakery. Not for the first time, she wondered if her father had planned it that way. Was he keeping her close in case she ran into trouble? In case she failed .

She snorted a very unladylike guffaw. There was no way on God's green earth she was going to fail. She wouldn't allow it.

Tightening her grasp on the lunch basket she'd packed for her father and herself, she used her free hand to open the heavy wooden door leading into the bank. As was expected for a Friday, people milled around everywhere. Some were lost in conversation, some seemed anxious and in a hurry. All four bank tellers stood at the ready to assist customers, their own lunch put off until business was concluded, and the hustle and bustle calmed.

Perhaps she should have brought enough for everyone, a treat for the employees' hard work.

She could see her Pa seated at his desk, the glass enclosed office neat and tidy. Another man sat opposite him with his back to the door. Susana recalled her father saying he was meeting with the owner of the mill. It seemed as if she might finally be able to meet the man who was so busy working, he couldn't attend her family's welcome reception at the church hall.

Hard work was one thing, but being so tied to your success that you couldn't stop long enough to enjoy all the beautiful things in life was clearly another. Her father, as important as his position was, never missed a family obligation.

Papa looked up from his conversation. When she lifted her hand in a simple wave, he smiled and motioned her forward.

"Come in, Susana," Wallace greeted, beckoning her over the threshold. "I'd like to introduce you to the owner of Snake River Sawmill." The man stood, and as he was turning, her father added, "Mister Jackson Harkness, this is my daughter, Susana Prescott."

The moment their gazes met Susana let loose a small gasp. "You! Just Jake."

His broad grin taunted her. "Yes, Miss Prescott, it's me."

Her father's confusion would have been comical had she not felt the same off-kilter emotion herself. "You two know one another?" Wallace asked.

"Yes, Sir," Jake responded. "I delivered some shelving to your daughter's bakery yesterday afternoon."

"I thought you were one of the workers," she mumbled somewhat inanely.

"I am a worker, just like the men whom I employ. I don't believe in asking my men to do something I'm not willing to do myself."

"Very commendable," Wallace commented. "Susana tells me you also helped install a few of the shelves before you left. I know she appreciated your efforts."

"It was nothing," Jake insisted. "Mister Perkins had already completed the task of putting the pegs in place to hold the shelves, as well as giving us the measurements for cutting the notches and grooves that would lock things together. That's the hardest part."

"Still…" Susana began. "You were kind enough to spend an extra hour fitting things into place."

Another grin split his handsome face, sending her pulse racing.

"I was amply rewarded," he reminded her.

Her father's narrowed gaze demanded an explanation. "I gave Mister Harkness some freshly baked tarts for his trouble."

"They were some of the most delicious baked goods I'd ever eaten. Rumors were going around my sawmill that your sweet potato pie is heaven on a plate. I must say, I tend to agree."

"Thank you." Glancing down at the basket she still held in her hand, she offered, "I've brought more than enough lunch for myself and my father if you'd like to join us."

"I'd like that but, unfortunately, I need to get back to the mill. My men go on their break at one-thirty, and they'll be wanting their pay before they go. Especially if it means they can grab some of your baking while they're in town."

"Just what's at Miss Betty's," she confirmed. "At least until my grand opening on Monday."

"So soon? You've obviously been working very hard," Jake suggested.

"My daughter has always been a hard worker, and very precise," Wallace said proudly. "That's what makes her such a good cook, and even better baker."

"Now I'm truly sorry I can't stay for lunch," Jake admitted. "I will make it a point though to stop by your grand opening celebration next week. I'll be sure to buy some treats for the fellows at the mill."

It was mid afternoon on Saturday when the bell above the bakery door tinkled to announce an arrival. Perhaps Mister Perkins had forgotten something. Or, possibly, her father had come to check on her.

Susana wiped the flour from her hands on a nearby cloth and made her way to the front of the shop.

"Hello?" she called out as she walked.

"I must say… this place looks wonderful." Jake stood at the glass display counter, his gaze scanning the bakery from wall to wall as he spoke.

"I'm still not open," she reminded him. "I wasn't expecting anyone."

"I was on my way to the livery and saw the light," he told her. "I thought I'd make sure everything was ready for the big reveal on Monday."

"Everything's fallen in place nicely," she assured him. "Well, all but one thing."

"Which is? Don't tell me you ran out of flour."

"No," she said, chuckling. "Never. I buy it by the ton."

"The display of cookies looks great." Nodding toward the tall jar on the countertop, he added, "Gingerbread is my favorite."

"Would you like a sample?"

"Am I being that obvious?"

"A little, but that's fine. I can't possibly taste everything I bake. If I did, I'd be as big as a house. It wouldn't hurt to have a taste tester."

He leaned forward in a gentlemanly bow. "Then I put myself at your disposal. I'd be happy to try one of your gingerbread men."

Susana lifted the lid from the glass apothecary jar, the edges clinking melodically. Using a pair of dessert tongs, she lifted a single cookie out and laid it on his outstretched palm. She realized she was holding her breath when Jake took the first bite. His reaction seemed to take forever.

"Hmm…"

A frown wrinkled his brow, causing Susana's stomach to knot. "Is it all right? Did I put in too much salt?"

"It's delicious." He tipped his head to glimpse behind her. "Is there something missing in the kitchen? You said there was one thing that didn't go right."

"I ordered a sign for the walkway in front of the bakery. One of those two-sided signs with the slate boards. You write your specials on the sign and put it out for everyone to see as they go by. It was supposed to arrive last week, but the company in Phoenix said it would be another couple of weeks before they could ship it."

"As nice as a sign would be, your reputation has already made its way around town. I'm sure customers will still come through the door in droves."

"I hope so."

"I know so, Miss… Susana."

Jake unlocked the door to his office an hour after leaving the bakery. Clearing a spot on his work bench, he picked up a pad of paper and a pencil and got to work. He had most of the supplies necessary for his project but made a quick stop at the mercantile for two school slates and a box of chalk on his way.

It might not be as fancy a sign as Susana had ordered from Phoenix, but it would do until that one arrived.

Lost in his work, he barely noticed when the door opened.

"Hey, boss, what are you doing here this late in the day?" Stump Waters asked.

"Working on a favor. What about you? Didn't the weekend shift end a couple hours ago?"

"It did," Stump confirmed. "Del offered up some extra time to anyone willing to stay on and restack the odds and ends of wood from the week's orders."

"And you volunteered?"

"Sort of," Stump hedged. "Seems I'm the only one who didn't have to hurry home and get ready for the barn dance over in Vickers."

"No pretty lady on your dance card?" Jake joked.

"Not the one I want," the young man admitted.

"I'm sure if you put some effort into it, you can draw any young lady's eye. If I'm not mistaken, Sadie Winston was giving you a look just last Sunday after services."

"Sadie's nice and all, but she's no Susana Prescott."

Susana ? His Susana ?

Being a bit selfish, aren't we ? Jake's conscience prodded. It's not like you've offered her anything more than a foolish grin .

"Perhaps Miss Prescott still needs a bit of time to get used to living in Windemere," Jake suggested. "Or, maybe she already has a beau."

"If she does, he's back in Saint Louis, where the Prescott's came from. Not one of the fellas here has had the nerve to speak to her. At least not one-to-one in a courting way."

"Give it time. If it's meant to be… for any of you… it'll happen."

"I best be going," Stump said. "Even those of us going to Vickers on our own need to take a bath and get properly dressed."

"No doubt that's a really good idea. No woman wants to dance with a man who smells of sawdust and sweat." As Stump turned to go, Jake called out. "Have a good time tonight and do your best to stay away from the fellows who pass around jugs of shine."

After Services on Sunday

Members of the congregation milled around outside the church, no doubt enjoying the cooler, early Autumn air. Mid-October not only marked the end of harvest, but also the change in the season. It was Susana's favorite time of the year. Warm fires and ovens filled with the most magnificent smells. Ever since the president had declared Thanksgiving a national holiday, she relished the thought of planning fancy menus and experimenting with all the fresh vegetables and home-grown herbs.

Susana scanned the crowd, mentally ticking names off in her head. There were so many, it was sometimes hard to keep track of who was married to whom, which mother had a son she was desperately trying to foist off on an eligible woman, and which of the fathers were doing the same for their daughters.

Admittedly, she'd much rather be at her bakery, double and triple checking that everything was as it should be for tomorrow's grand opening. Instead, here she was waiting on Papa to speak with every businessman from town in an effort to build new friendships.

‘ Friendship leads to sound business relationships .' One of Papa's favorite sayings.

"Miss Susana," a deep voice spoke to her from just over her shoulder.

She didn't need to turn to know who stood behind her. Every hair on her forearm had jumped to attention. "Mister Harkness," she responded.

When she spun around to meet his gaze, he asked, "What did you think of the reverend's sermon?"

Pulling in a breath, she admitted, "It hit close to home. Resting on the sabbath isn't something I have time to do today."

"Still stocking your bakery shelves, are you?"

"That and meeting the order for Miss Betty," she explained. "Not to mention cooking the evening meal for my own family."

"It sounds as if you have your hands full."

"Idle hands are the devil's work, Mister Harkness."

"Jake. Remember? Just Jake."

"Jake," she repeated.

"I could possibly take some of the work off your hands. At least the family meal, that is."

"You cook?"

"Not unless you favor beans and bacon. However, I do employ a phenomenal cook. She's been suggesting I invite your family over to dinner since you first arrived. Today might be the perfect time."

"I don't know… I mean—"

He took two steps away from where they stood, before derailing her train of thought. "How about I go give the invite right now while your father is close by?" When she didn't protest, he added, "I'll be right back."

Susana watched carefully as Jake wove his way through the small gaggles of churchgoers, each locked in conversation with their neighbors. However, it wasn't the crowd that held her attention. It was Jake. Long legs, broad shoulders, trim waist, and… oh dear.

Scrunching her eyes shut tight, she turned away. Yet, the picture his fit body had conjured up seemed to be indelibly printed on the backs of her closed eyelids.