Grooms with Honor Series, Books 7-9

by Linda K. Hubalek

  “Holly can bake in our oven at home then. I haven’t had a good juicy cherry pie like Millie used to make, in ages.”

  Everyone burst out laughing at Gramps remark. Everything would work out all right after all. Nolan would get to run the café—most of the time—the way he wanted it, and he and Holly would be able to help his grandparents.

  Thank goodness for that silly biscuit contest they had back in Miller Springs, and Holly’s baking talents.

  Nolan slid his hand under the table to find Holly’s and give it a squeeze. He was pleased she squeezed back, before pulling away and placing both hands on the table, probably, so his grandparents didn’t see what they were doing.

  He liked seeing the four of them around the table together. Nolan feverishly hoped his grandparent’s health would permit the elders to stay with them for a few more years.

  Yes, he was glad he was home and very glad he convinced Holly to join him.

  Chapter 14

  The next days sped by as Holly and Nolan worked together to set up the kitchen, buy supplies, and cook meals for his grandparents.

  Nolan asked Holly to set up the kitchen like Myrtle’s because it was more efficient than Dan’s arrangement. The first time Dan walked in the kitchen and realized she’d rearranged his “things” caused a confrontation, even after Nolan showing him how handy the changes were. More than once she’d look for something and found it elsewhere because Dan had moved it.

  Good thing she was a good baker. That was her saving grace when dealing with the man. She soon learned a sweet dessert made the man melt like butter on her hot biscuits, although he’d still be gruff to her or ignore her at times.

  Cooking meals for Dan and Edna to taste at the restaurant turned into cooking meals for them at their house. It was too much work for them to dress early in the morning, and it really was too cold for them to walk over to the café.

  Dan and Edna seemed to be in better health after just a week’s worth of good food, and probably attention. They didn’t have to worry about themselves anymore.

  So while Nolan cooked meals at his grandparent’s home, Holly learned the “tricks” of the old temperamental cook stove in the café. There wasn’t a variety of wood to burn in the stove here as there was in Miller Springs, so Holly had to learn how hot and fast the wood burned to adjust the chimney, oven, and bottom dampers.

  Being able to hold your hand in the oven for twenty seconds meant it was the right temperature to bake a cake. But this oven was slow to heat, then the temperature would shoot up so she could only hold her hand six or seven seconds. Then she had to figure out which of the damper combinations were best to lower and hold the heat.

  The first batch of rolls showed a hot spot was on the back left side of the oven, so she had to rotate the pans half way through the baking on her second batch.

  The first cake’s top was burned when Holly put it on the lower shelf. After trial and error, she put the cake pan on the oven floor and set a pan of water on the top shelf. The water absorbed some of the heat, so the cake turned out better.

  The timing to get enough rolls and desserts baked for the day’s meals before the oven needed to be used for meats and such was what was going to be the hardest to coordinate.

  In Myrtle’s café, she just went down the stairs very early in the morning and baked before they opened the café. Now she’d have to trudge outside in the dark, cold and possible snow from the parsonage, two blocks to the café, to do her baking before Nolan took over the stove for breakfast. Too bad the upstairs apartment wasn’t available, but that wasn’t an option.

  She’d try to do some baking during the day for the next day when possible.

  The front door opened and Holly’s shoulders tensed a second out of habit. Besides Nolan coming in and out all day, others walked in the door, some to help with cleaning, and others just curious about when the café would open again for business.

  Holly met the majority of the townspeople at church, but train passengers wandering in looking for a quick bite to eat made her nervous.

  “Nolan? Your first order came in.” She looked through the serving window between the kitchen and café to see Mr. Taylor, from the mercantile, standing inside the door with a large paper-wrapped bundle in his arms.

  “Mr. Taylor,” Holly wiped her hands on her apron while walking into the dining room. “Nolan isn’t here at the moment. What do you have?”

  “The oil cloth for the tables has arrived. Where shall I set it?”

  “On any table is fine. I can’t wait to cover the tables. It will really spruce up the café.”

  “Glad Nolan is opening the café again, and for the business, it will give our store. Need any more groceries delivered today?”

  Holly laughed, knowing what he was asking. “Are you wondering if I’ve ruined another pie in this cantankerous oven, and need more dried apples to try again?”

  “We do not mind the trial pies you’re bringing over to the mercantile to get rid of. The coffee drinkers around the back stove are waiting with plates and forks now, hoping I’ll bring something back for them.”

  Holly hoped this group of men would show up and pay for coffee and pie once the café was open, so she’d been generous with her samples.

  “You think the men would like molasses cookies today?” Holly asked over her shoulder as she walked back to the kitchen with Mr. Taylor following her.

  “They’ll eat anything that’s free,” Mr. Taylor chuckled as Holly handed him a cloth-covered basket of cookies she had ready to take over to the mercantile.

  “Could you stop at the barbershop and hand out a few cookies there, too? We need to hook the locals on my baked goods.”

  Mr. Taylor took the basket but dropped his smile. “You may have to work harder to get people to accept you...since you’re an Indian...but, I commend your fortitude. Although I’m sure some people won’t say—or believe this—I’m glad Nolan brought you to Clear Creek. I think you’ll be an asset to our community.”

  Holly put her hand on her chest to slow her heart’s pounding. His words were both prejudiced and complimenting, typical of the reception she’d received so far in town.

  The church congregation couldn’t believe “an Indian” could play the violin, even though she stood in front of the altar, filling their air with sweet music.

  People wouldn’t believe she could be as good a baker as the town favorite, Millie Wilerson...because she was a half-breed.

  Maybe it would be best if she baked for the café before dawn, and hid the rest of the day. Nolan could hire a pretty woman to wait on the customers and not have to worry if people would snub the café because of the half-breed they’d have to talk to.

  “Hey, Taylor! Bringing in merchandise, I need to pay for, or stealing baked goods from my prize baker?” Nolan’s jovial question pulled Holly away from Mr. Taylor’s remark. His words were meant to shore her confidence but hadn’t helped as he’d meant them to do. People just didn’t know how much Holly wanted to be a “person” and not be automatically labeled as an Indian or half-breed.

  “Oh, I saw you down the street talking to the blacksmith, so thought I’d bring this on down to the café. Actually, your grandfather is in the store right now, hearing how the coffee group has been enjoying Miss Brandt’s baking trials, so he sent me down here, hopefully, to bring something back.”

  Why was Nolan at the blacksmith shop, and why did he look nervous when Mr. Taylor brought it up?

  “So that’s where Gramps went. I saw him shuffling down the boardwalk after I left their house.”

  “Well, it’s good to see him out and about again. Your grandparents pretty much holed up in the house after he fell in the café. I’m sure he doesn’t say anything to you, but he’s bragging about how good the food is you’ve been testing on him and Edna.”

  “Nope, he grumbles, but always cleans his plate and asks for seconds.” Nolan shot back, shaking his head.

  “The man has pride, just like the r
est of us. He’ll get used to retirement after he accepts he’s not as young as you anymore.” Mr. Taylor patted Nolan’s back before walking out the door with Holly’s basket of cookies.

  “How’s the stove treating you today?” Nolan walked beside her and put his arm causally around her shoulders. She loved how his gesture made her feel cared for, even if his coat sleeve was cold.

  “The Beast and I are coming to terms. I was just wondering on the timing of getting things baked for the day though.”

  “I was thinking of that, too.” He walked over and grabbed two coffee cups from the shelf, setting them on the side table so he could pour two cups of coffee.

  “Take a break, and we’ll talk about it. I hope you saved me some cookies to dunk in my coffee.”

  “You won’t need to dip this batch of cookies in your coffee to soften up.” Holly held up a dark golden molasses cookie, and slowly bent it in half, causing the sugar she’d rolled the dough in to sprinkle on the table. There wasn’t a hard “snap” to break the cookie like the last batch.

  “I hope your grandfather didn’t find those bad cookies in the trash. I didn’t want word to get around town that I burned a batch.”

  Nolan laughed, and it lightened Holly’s heart. She so enjoyed being around this man.

  “This molasses cookie is perfect and will be one of the coffee group’s favorite requests, once they start coming in the café.

  “So, we need to talk about when to open the café, as people are asking, and what hours to be open.”

  “Will you be able to hire someone to help you serve?”

  “Why? I was counting on you, at least at first for breakfast and lunch. Will that be too many hours?”

  “Well, I’ll have to come in about four in the morning to get the stove hot enough to bake at five. I should have all my baking done by the time you need to cook meats.”

  “I now see why Grandpa bought pies from Millie years ago. This old stove wasn’t big enough to manage everything back ten years ago when the café was always full of customers.”

  “How long has it been since Mrs. Wilerson stopped baking pies for here and the hotel?”

  “Not sure, but at least three years. The hotel had its own baker when I was last home.”

  Nolan lightly rubbed her cheek, probably wiping off a smear of flour. “We can always serve Berry Crumble,” Nolan teased.

  “I’m also wondering if you shouldn’t have someone else serve the customers…so they’ll patronize the café.”

  “Holly… Please don’t be thinking about what I’m afraid you are.”

  Nolan reached for Holly’s hands and held them with his own. He studied them a while before searching Holly’s face.

  “I think you’re the most endearing and beautiful woman I’ve ever met. You’re starting to rank right up there with Grandma and Kaitlyn Reagan, and you know how highly I think of those two women.

  “But I’m a...”

  “A sweet, talented woman who has a lovely complexion and silky black hair which I love to touch. Holly, I wouldn’t care if you were bald and your face was purple, I like what’s inside your heart. I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I think I’m falling for you.”

  “What? No, Nolan, you can’t be thinking about me that way,” Holly pleaded.

  “Why not?”

  Because I’m not good enough for you.

  “I’ll work for you. I’ll be your baker, but nothing else. I can’t imagine marrying you.”

  Oh goodness! Nolan didn’t say anything about marriage! Why did she bring it up?

  “Why not? Wait... Are you interested in Ki Jones? I’m not good enough for you because I’m not an Indian?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant.”

  “You sounded as prejudice as you accused others of doing to you.”

  “No, Nolan, that came out wrong.”

  They were both standing in the kitchen having their first argument when several women’s voices drifted through the front door, along with a blast of cold air.

  “Hello? Holly?” It sounded like Helen Paulson’s voice.

  “We’re in the kitchen. We’ll be out in a moment,” Nolan called, turning his back to the serving window to the kitchen so they couldn’t see her in front of him.

  “Holly, are you sure...you aren’t interested in me, at all?”

  It broke her heart to see his sad eyes, but she didn’t see how they could have a future together. He needed to make a life with…Mary, not a half-breed.

  “No, Nolan, I’m not.” It hurt to say it, but it was for the best, for Nolan at least.

  “Thank you for being honest with me, Holly. I appreciate it.”

  He looked at her for a long second then turned to walk through to the dining room. Holly reluctantly followed, trying not to let her eyes blur looking at Nolan’s strong shoulders. She wanted to lean against his shoulder so badly, to draw from his strength like she’d done in the past. Unfortunately, she needed to learn how to live on her own.

  Helen Paulson and two of her daughters, Maridell and Avalee stood talking in the dining room waiting for them. It made Holly heartsick to think that could have been her mother and sisters if they would have lived.

  “Holly, we need your expertise if you’re available,” Helen started the conversation.

  “Um, with what?”

  “Well, I should ask Nolan first if he can spare you. When do you plan to open the café, Nolan?”

  “I just decided it won’t be until after the first of the year. I need to find someone to waitress the dining room while I cook the meals.” His voice was congenial, but his crossed arms told another story.

  Helen looked between her and Nolan in confusion. “I thought Holly was going to do that? Have plans changed?” Did Helen just give her a look of pity?

  “Holly will bake early in the morning before I come in to cook. It will be too long of hours to work through all the meals, too, so I’ll hire someone else to work with me.”

  She noticed he emphasized the word “with” like Holly had refused to work with him. Oh dear, what will people think of her now? That she refused to help the man who had helped her so much already?

  “Well, that’s great news for the Paulson Hotel and the school Christmas program then.”

  Helen pulled out a chair at a table and sat down, waving to indicate the rest of them should do the same.

  “Holly, I don’t know if you’ve walked through the downstairs of the hotel yet, but besides the lobby and dining room, we have a large hospitality room we use for wedding receptions and parties. The hotel has a Christmas Open House the Sunday before Christmas, hosting the schoolchildren’s Christmas program the same afternoon. We decorate the whole hotel, including a large Christmas tree in the hospitality room.

  “We need help this year to be ready for the open house, and I thought maybe I could talk Nolan into letting you help us if you want to of course.”

  “What do you need help doing? I suppose I could help decorate, but don’t you have enough girls who would love to do that?” Holly would have loved to help decorate a tree when she was a young girl. They didn’t have a tree in their own quarters, but there was always one in the mess hall of whatever fort they lived at the time.

  “Our crisis is about all the baking that needs to be done before this Sunday. Our baker’s baby girl decided to make an early appearance this morning, a month early.”

  “What do you need to be made for the party? And, what about baking for the dining room if your baker isn’t available?”

  Maybe Holly could work for the Paulson’s instead of Nolan, although she had already promised she would bake for the café.

  “For now our staff can bake for our dining room customers, but they don’t have enough time to bake for the open house, too. We literally need dozens and dozens of decorated sugar cookies, divinity, and fudge for the open house. The hotel will be packed with people, and they all look forward to the Christmas cookie display.”

&
nbsp; “The taffy pull is Friday night, and part of us could make divinity instead,” Maridell noted. “The young people in town get together and make it a party. Do plan to attend, Holly.”

  “The hotel kitchen has a new stove, so you can bake cookies about as fast as you can make the dough and roll them out.”

  Working with a new stove, after working with the café’s old stove, would be a dream instead of a nightmare.

  “All my girls would pitch in to help you decorate, although having Phoebe in the kitchen may be more work than help,” Helen confided.

  “I think it’s a wonderful idea for Holly to help at the hotel, Helen.” Nolan didn’t even look her way when he spoke.

  “In fact, she can go with you now. I’m going to let the kitchen stove go cold, so I can work on it. The chimney damper doesn’t seem to be working right, so I need to take it apart.”

  Nolan stood up from the table as if to suggest they could leave right now so he could get to work. Holly knew the damper was working fine, so it was his excuse to get them, or at least her, to leave.

  “Thanks to both of you. Everyone would be so disappointed if we didn’t have the special refreshments we’ve offered every year.” Helen warmly thanked them.

  “I remember the first year you had the open house. It was my last year in the school program, and I was in awe of the hotel’s decorations. Then us boys saw the refreshment table.” Nolan laughed, apparently remembered the scene years ago.

  “If several ladies hadn’t been keeping an eye on the table, we’d have filled our pockets with cookies.”

  “That first open house was mine and Ethan’s wedding reception, too. This year will mark our thirteenth wedding anniversary,” Helen replied, apparently fondly thinking of the happy years she had with Ethan.

  Holly shyly glanced at Nolan for a second before turning back to her thoughts. What would it be like to have been married to Nolan for over a dozen years? Would they be blessed with healthy children? Could they have a good life together, or would he become tired of being married to a half breed, not white, like Mary? No matter what Holly’s train of thought was about Nolan, it always went back to the notion that he’d have a better life with someone else.