A vision of her brother poised over an ironing board, trying to smooth the wrinkles from one of her petticoats made her laugh as she turned on the lights and added coal to the stove.
Quickly rolling up the sleeves of her shirtwaist, she began the day’s baking. When Ethan arrived two hours later, cinnamon buns and berry pastries dotted with creamy cheese cooled on a rack near the oven.
“Mmm. It smells so good in here,” Ethan said as he unlocked the back door and stepped inside. “You’ve been busy.”
Elsa cast him a sassy grin as she kneaded a mound of yeasty bread dough. “Unlike you, brother dear, I can’t sleep the day away.”
He snorted and poured a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove. “It’s barely past six. That does not constitute sleeping the day away, baby.”
She huffed and glared at him. “Why must you continue to call me baby? It might have been cute when we were four, but I’m a woman grown, Ethan.”
“I know you are.” Her brother tossed her an impish grin. “But it gets such a rise out of you, I’d rather not stop. Besides, no matter how old you are, you’ll always be my baby sister.”
It was her turn to snort as she punched down the bread dough with unnecessary force. “A handful of minutes separates our ages, Ethan, and well you know it. Don’t act as though you’re years older. In fact, most people assume I’m older than you.”
Twin furrows etched across his handsome brow. “Who told you that? Why do you say that?”
Aware she’d landed on a sensitive topic, she couldn’t help but goad him a bit. “Everyone. People are forever coming up to me and saying, ‘Oh, you poor thing. How do you handle the bakery and raising your little brother, too?’”
His gaze narrowed as he slowly strode toward her. He swiped his hand through a bowl of flour and Elsa abandoned the mound of dough, scurrying to the other side of the worktable. “Ethan! Don’t even think it. If you flour my face, so help me, I’ll turn you over my apron and beat your bum with a wooden spoon.”
“You and I both know you’ll do no such thing. I’m a head taller than you, and outweigh you by fifty pounds.” He drew back his arm as though he planned to drench her in flour. When she squeezed her eyes shut, his chuckles filled the kitchen.
Elsa popped open one eye and scowled at her twin while relief flooded through her he hadn’t actually coated her with flour.
Laughter rolled out of Ethan. “You do that every time, you know. Flinch.”
“It’s because you’re so… so…”
“Wonderful. Why thank you, baby, for that lovely compliment.” Ethan ducked when she lobbed a hunk of dough at his head, barely missing his ear.
“Your aim is improving,” he commented as he plopped a warm cinnamon bun on a plate, grabbed his coffee and made a hasty retreat to a small room off the kitchen they used as an office.
“Coward!” Elsa hollered after him. Snickers floated back into the room, making her smile.
She returned to kneading the dough and thinking about her brother. In spite of their teasing and playful natures, she couldn’t imagine embarking on any adventures without Ethan. They were siblings, friends, and partners.
Elsa knew she was blessed to have a loving, warm relationship with all of her family, but especially with Ethan. She supposed some of that was because they were twins, but it was more than their connection by birth. In her heart, she knew it was because they were so much alike, so attuned to each other, so similar in their likes and dislikes.
Regardless of their banter and lighthearted tormenting of each other, at the end of the day, Elsa knew her brother would always be there for her. At least until he fell in love and married. Since none of the local girls had succeeded in turning his head, she wasn’t worried he’d forget about her anytime soon.
Once she’d formed a dozen loaves of bread and left them to rise, she rinsed her hands and pushed open the window above the sink, drinking in the fresh morning air. To her, it held an ambrosial aroma, so unlike what she’d grown up with in Boston. There, the air seemed thick, dirty, and tainted compared to what currently filled her lungs.
Here in Hardman, the breeze held a hint of smoke from morning fires, the scent of frying bacon, and a beautiful, delicious fragrance of pure, clean air. Elsa never tired of breathing it in.
“Are you trying to freeze yourself or the customers?” Ethan asked as he returned to the kitchen and placed his dish in the sink before refilling his coffee cup.
“Neither. I just like the fresh air.” She took another breath, eyes closed to better savor the bliss. “Can’t you smell it, Ethan?”
“Smell what?” he asked, giving her an odd look as he sipped his hot coffee.
“Autumn. It’s lingering in the air. If you take a deep breath, you can smell the apples and pumpkins, turning leaves and spicy cider, and the harvest moon.”
Ethan cocked one eyebrow. “You can smell the moon? And turning leaves?” He took a step closer to her, shaking his head in disbelief as he placed the back of his hand against her cheek. “Nope, you aren’t burning up with fever. I can’t think of anything else that would leave you so delirious.”
Elsa smacked his hand then moved to the stove, pulling another pan of cinnamon buns from the oven. “Someday, Ethan Lindstrom, you’ll meet a girl who ties you up in knots and I hope, to the high heavens above, she can smell the harvest moon and turning leaves because then, and only then, will you even try to understand what I’m talking about.”
Her brother patted her on the shoulder. “I don’t need some twitterpated girl tying me in knots to know what you mean, baby. You love each and every season and unlike normal humans, you somehow let each one sink into your soul until you can hear it, taste it, and feel it.”
Elsa glanced over her shoulder at Ethan, surprised by his insight.
At her surprised expression he grinned. “Besides, the only reason you love autumn so much is because it’s a step closer to Christmas.”
“Well, it is my most favorite season. I can’t wait to start the holiday baking. I think this year we should include more confections in our offerings the week or so before Christmas.”
“Whatever you want, El. Just let me know what supplies we’ll need.” Ethan glanced at the clock and set down his coffee cup. “It’s past time to open the doors. Are you ready?”
She nodded as she lifted a tray full of pastries and carried it out front, sliding it onto a shelf in the glass-encased counter. A quick glance assured her a few early risers were already eager to get inside. “Looks like we’ll have a crowd this morning.”
“Like we do every morning,” Ethan said, hurrying to unlock the front door and greet their customers with a friendly smile.
The next several hours passed in a blur for Elsa, as they always did. She liked it that way, liked to keep busy.
She spent her time between the kitchen and waiting on customers. Ethan helped customers and washed dishes during the lulls. They’d long ago perfected the system that worked best for them.
Elsa felt a slight pang of disappointment when the morning passed without seeing Fred Decker. He most always stopped by and purchased something, whether it was a loaf of bread or a sack of cookies. She knew he had a fondness for her fruit-filled pastries and she’d set a few back in case he came in for breakfast.
The fact she saved special treats for him left her annoyed with herself, and especially with her brother when he made a point of bringing it to her attention.
“I don’t think he’s coming in today,” Ethan remarked as he stepped past her to restock the tray of bread.
“Who?” Elsa asked, feigning innocence.
Ethan quirked his eyebrow and shook his head. “You know who,” he said in a low tone. “If you keep pretending otherwise, I could bellow it out for everyone to hear. Is that what you’d prefer? If so, I could…”
The dark glower she cast him put an end to his taunting whispers as Elsa bustled back into the kitchen. A little before noon, she whipped up a big batch of fluff
y biscuits and gave the pot of soup she’d set to simmering a stir.
A few weeks ago, she and Ethan had decided to offer a simple lunch to anyone who might be interested. Partakers received a bowl of aromatic and filling soup or stew, biscuits or bread with creamy butter, and their choice of cookies, a slice of cake, or a piece of pie.
Today, Elsa had prepared a thick vegetable soup, redolent with spices. As she dished up a bowl of it for her and Ethan, the bell above the door jangled, signaling the arrival of a customer. Since her brother had his hands buried in a tub of soapy dishwater, she wiped her hands on her apron and hurried into the front of the bakery.
The smile of greeting she’d planned to offer the customer broadened into one of genuine welcome when she saw Fred Decker standing in front of the long counter, hat in his hand.
“Hello, Mr. Decker. How may I help you today?” Elsa asked, moving to stand across from him behind the counter.
“Hello, Miss Lindstrom. I don’t know what you made for lunch today, but I could smell it all the way over at the lumberyard. I got so hungry I almost took to gnawing on a board before Mr. Dillon gave me a break for the noon meal.”
Elsa studied the handsome man, noting the mischief twinkling in his sky-blue eyes as he grinned at her. “You are full of nonsense, Mr. Decker, as always, but I’d happily serve you a bowl of vegetable soup.”
“That would be appreciated, Miss Lindstrom.” Fred took a coin from his pocket and slid it across the counter. Elsa dropped it in the cash box then hurried into the kitchen. She dished a bowl of soup for Fred then placed it on a plate along with two biscuits and a little square of pressed butter.
She returned to the front of the bakery and walked around the counter, carrying the plate to where Fred sat at a table in the corner with his back to the wall. It hadn’t escaped her notice he liked to sit so he could see the door. She wondered what had made him so cautious, so nervous of being caught unawares. A plethora of rumors circulated amongst the gossips in town about the Decker family, but Elsa ignored them. Instead of listening to what some of the loose-tongued old biddies in town had to say about Fred and his parents, Elsa chose to focus on what she knew about the man.
Fred was one of the hardest working people she’d ever encountered. He worked at the livery for Mr. McIntosh, at the lumberyard for Mr. Dillon, and the freight office on occasion. She’d seen him serve as a deputy when the sheriff needed an extra hand, and she’d discovered he also filled in as a handyman when someone needed help replacing a broken window or repairing a porch step. She had no idea how or where Fred had learned so many trades, but no one could complain about the quality of his work.
It seemed to her that Fred was always working. Many mornings, she’d seen him ride by the bakery in the pre-dawn hours while the rest of the town slept. She wondered what drove him to work such long hours, for she’d caught sight of him delivering lumber or returning a rented buggy to the livery late in the evening.
She’d never seen anyone who simply always worked. A few times, she’d wondered if Fred was in some sort of financial trouble and that was the reason he pushed himself to constantly toil at some task. Somehow, she didn’t think he was. Fred dressed in nice clothes and had a tidy, well-kept appearance. A man on the verge of financial ruin wouldn’t wear expensive boots or such a costly hat. At least they wouldn’t if they had a lick of sense. From what she could tell, Fred had plenty.
No, there had to be some other reason, some mysterious explanation compelling Fred to work himself nearly to death.
Elsa smiled at Fred as she set the plate down on the table in front of him then took a napkin and silverware from her large apron pocket.
“Water or milk for you today?” she asked, knowing Fred didn’t seem to care much for coffee.
“Milk, please, and thank you.” He offered her a charming, sincere smile.
Elsa’s feet felt glued to the floor. She smiled at him unable to look away, unable to draw herself from her ponderings if his lips would feel as soft as they looked, taste as luscious as she imagined.
Shocked by her thoughts, she backed up and bumped into the table behind her. Without saying a word, she hustled into the kitchen, poured him a glass of milk, gathered a dish of berry jam for his biscuits, and returned to his table to find three more customers waiting.
A steady line of customers kept her busy for a while, but even as she served soup and poured coffee in cups or filled glasses with milk, she kept an eye on Fred. Once he finished eating his soup and biscuits, he leaned back in his chair and pulled a book from his back pocket, turning his attention to reading. She’d often seen him read after he ate and wondered what type of stories he favored.
While Ethan helped the last few customers, Elsa refilled water glasses and poured more coffee, making her way over to Fred.
His gaze met hers as she approached his table and she felt something in her chest flip over in response to the welcoming warmth in his eyes. Honestly, how could such a big, brawny man have such beautiful eyes? Not only did the color mesmerize her, but the thick lashes around them made them stand out even more.
“Would you like a slice of cake, or perhaps a piece of pie today, Mr. Decker? Or shall I bring you some cookies?” she asked, noticing his empty milk glass and making a mental note to refill it.
“Did I see chocolate cake earlier?” he asked, setting down the book he still held and grinning at her.
She’d known he’d choose the cake because he always did if she had chocolate. “You certainly did. Shall I bring you a slice?”
“Yes, please, Miss Lindstrom. Oh, and if you wouldn’t mind wrapping a handful of those sour cream cookies, I’d be grateful to take them with me.” Fred continued to hold her gaze as he spoke.
Elsa glanced down at the book he held in one hand and craned her neck around to read the title. “Dickens, is it?”
At Fred’s nod, she tipped her head toward the book. “Have you read The Old Curiosity Shop before?”
“No,” Fred said, gazing at her as though he waited for her to make further comment. “Have you?”
“I have read it. I won’t spoil the ending for you, but perhaps you’d like to discuss it when you finish. The book is quite cleverly written.”
“I think so, too, although I have my suspicions I’m not going to like the ending.”
She smiled and backed away from him. “I’m not saying a word.”
After bringing Fred a piece of cake and refilling his glass of milk, she tucked half a dozen cookies into a small paper sack and took it over to his table.
He wiped his mouth on a napkin as he swallowed the last bite of his cake. “Thank you.” He handed her a coin for the cookies. “As always, everything was delicious.”
“As always,” she said with a bright smile. “Thank you for coming in today, Mr. Decker. It’s ever a pleasure to have you at the bakery.”
He drained the last gulp of milk from his glass, rose to his feet, and tucked his book back into his pocket. He lifted the sack of cookies and tipped his head to her. “Enjoy your day, Miss Lindstrom.”
“Oh, I will Mr. Decker. It’s too lovely not to enjoy.”
The parting glance he gave her made her insides feel as warm and syrupy as molasses, but she hid it by lifting his dirty dishes and carrying them back to the kitchen.
The approaching autumn season must be the reason she’d suddenly found herself so interested in Fred Decker. No sensible explanation came to mind. Besides, she had little to no time for thinking about the intriguing man, no matter how beguiling his blue eyes.
Chapter Three
“Are you sure you’ll be fine?” Ethan asked for the third time as Elsa hurriedly packed the lunch she’d made for him into a pail.
“For the last time, Ethan Lindstrom, I’ll be fine. Wednesdays are generally slower days here anyway,” she said, handing him the pail then hurrying to fill a basket with warm apple muffins. “I want you to enjoy yourself today and not give a single thought to what may, or may not, be
happening at the bakery.”
Ethan poured half a cup of coffee and took a long swig of the hot drink before he spoke. “If you’re absolutely…”
Elsa stuffed a piece of cream-filled pastry in his mouth, abruptly shutting him up. She grinned as he rolled his eyes and took a bite, holding the rest of the pastry in his hand.
Ethan swallowed and tossed her a narrowed glare, wiping filling away from the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “That was a rather rude way to win an argument, baby. Rude, but effective.”
A giggle escaped her as she finished placing muffins in the basket. “Honestly, Ethan, I can handle things here by myself. I promise I won’t burn the place down. It’s not every day you get invited to do something fun, so go enjoy yourself.”
“I’m not sure how much fun it will be helping round up a bunch of cattle, but when Luke extended the invitation, I really didn’t want to pass it up.”
“And you shouldn’t. I think it’s wonderful you’ll be out riding in the hills with Mr. Granger, and Blake Stratton. Did I hear Pastor Dodd say he planned to go?”
“You did.” Ethan grinned as he swigged the last of his coffee then pulled on a chore coat and settled a new cowboy hat on his head.
“Don’t you look quite rugged?” Elsa teased, lightly tugging on the hat brim. “You already have half the girls in town bedazzled. If any of them see you playing cowboy, you’ll be in big trouble. One of them might take it in mind to just march you right down to the church and exchange vows.”
Ethan snorted. “That is not going to happen. The last thing I need is one of the twitterpated, silly ninnies in town to…”
The jangle of the bell above the door alerted them to the arrival of the first customer of the day.
“Go on, Ethan. Have a wonderful day. I promise all will be well here.”
Her brother pecked her cheek with a quick kiss, grabbed his lunch pail and the basket of muffins, then opened the back door. “I shouldn’t be too late. If I am, you can leave the dirty dishes for me to wash later.”
“You can count on it.” Elsa tossed him a saucy smile as he rushed out the door before she tucked a stray lock of hair back into her braid and made her way to the front of the bakery.
The Christmas Confection (Hardman Holidays Book 6) Page 3
