by Naomi Miller
He leaned towards her to whisper, “Would you like me to try and find out what is going on when I deliver his order?”
Katie smiled then for the first time today. “Jah, would you? That would be just wunderbaar. Oh, and can you throw these away? For sure and for certain, I cannot serve them to customers now.”
She moved to the counter and dumped the tear-stained cookies in a paper bag, before turning back and handing them to Travis.
He laughed. “Not for anything in the world would I be throwing away some of your cookies!”
“But you must. They are ruined.”
“Go on about your work, Katie-girl. Don't give these cookies another thought. I'll get rid of them for you. Go bake another batch.”
He turned then, smothering a smile—and heard Katie push through the kitchen doors, calling out Freida's name as she went.
* * *
When Travis arrived at the back door of the cafe, he could see right away that things were not quite right.
The door was open. Andrew O'Neal never left the back door of the cafe open. Someone inside was speaking, loudly... roughly... almost yelling. And they were not speaking English.
He knocked on the door and waited, looking at his watch as he did so. It was less than a minute before Sean appeared at the door, still speaking the strange language, which must have been his native tongue, which Travis understood exactly nothing.
“Thank you, Travis. You've no idea how much I appreciate this. Could you just set it there, please.” He motioned to the only empty space in the kitchen, which looked as if a tornado had swept through it.
“Is everything all right, Sean?”
“All right? No, everything is not all right. Uncle Andrew has been gone for two days now, and I am certain it has something to do with the argument we had on Tuesday.”
Sean ran a hand through his hair before going on. “It was a big misunderstanding, but he rushed out of here and left in a hurry. I finally got him on his cell, but he hung up before I got any answers and I've not heard from him since.”
He stopped, took a breath and then went on. “I don't know, man. I'm not sure I can do this.” He swept a hand around the room—and Travis could see how the young man was struggling to hold on to his composure.
“Doesn't Mr. O'Neal have some other help? A cook or a waiter or someone?”
“Aye, that he does, but he called in sick today.” He lowered his voice a bit before adding, “Between you and me, I think he might just be thinking of looking for another job. And without knowing where Uncle Andrew is. . . or when he will be back. . . I don't exactly have any way to change his mind or anything.”
Travis had no idea what to say about any of it. It was all too shocking. Mr. O'Neal might be a bit of a mystery, but he had never struck Travis as being irresponsible.
There has to be some sort of explanation.
“What can I do to help? Anything?”
“This order is a big help. I managed to get through lunch, but it was no easy thing. What I am most concerned over is this High Tea. I know how seriously ladies take this thing. I don't want to mess it up.” He ran a hand through his hair again as he looked at Travis with a look of such misery, which made him all the more determined to help however he could.
“Well, I do know that there are usually only three or four ladies who come to the tea on Friday. Most of what is in that box is for tomorrow. That will be the tough one.”
“Aye, I know the Saturday High Tea is a big deal around here.”
“So, for today you just need a bit of help serving, then?”
“Aye, I already have everything ready for the tea. I'll clean up all this mess later.”
They both looked at the disaster in the kitchen. Travis could not help but think of how Katie would panic at such a sight. She would never have allowed a kitchen to become such a mess—and she certainly would not leave it this way for long.
She would just roll up her sleeves and start cleaning.
He thought about the one order he still had to deliver. He had planned to go by the bakery afterwards, but he immediately changed his plans.
“Listen, Sean, I have one more delivery I have to make, but that's it for the day. And I don't have any other odd jobs lined up for the afternoon. How about if I come back and help you?”
“That would be a miracle. And I would be forever in your debt.”
“High Tea starts at three, right?”
“Aye, that it does. Three o'clock sharp. Will you be back by then?”
Travis was already nodding. “If I scoot right now, I can be back by then.”
Sean walked with him to the door. “I really appreciate this, man. You'll never know how much.”
Travis nodded again, but kept moving towards the delivery van. “I'll be back before you know it. In the meantime, work on that messy kitchen!”
— THREE —
Katie let her thoughts wonder a bit while she kneaded dough. The bell over the front door seemed to tinkle almost constantly, although they had only been open for about half an hour.
What is going on? It is much too early for the Saturday morning rush.
As she continued to work the dough, Katie wished Freida would let her in on what was happening. Since it was Saturday, Katie was especially busy and had very little time to do anything about it. She had dough to knead, cookies to bake, orders to get ready—and if the amount of customers so far this morning were any indication, they would likely be extra busy today.
It should have been a normal day, especially with nearly two weeks until the holiday.
Ha! It has been anything but business as usual since Mrs. Simpkins left for New York. I hope she is having a gut time, but I cannot wait for her to return.
There were times Katie almost regretted telling her dear, sweet boss that she and Freida could handle the bakery by themselves.
She had had no idea then, that Freida would be planning her wedding—for the day before Thanksgiving. And none of them could have anticipated the people from town coming in nearly every day, trying to find out where Mrs. Simpkins had gone and when she would return.
It was so rare for her to go on long trips—and even more unusual for her to essentially disappear with no one but Katie, Travis and Freida knowing where she had gone.
The first few days had been especially difficult, what with Mr. O'Neal coming in every day—especially since his visits had dwindled to almost none over the past few months.
Not that it is especially surprising, with how cold Mrs. Simpkins was to him whenever she saw him.
It still made no sense to Katie. No matter how she thought about the two of them, she could not figure out what had happened to mess up their budding romance.
One day, Mrs. Simpkins and Mr. O'Neal had been together. . . seemingly froh—happy. Freida had been talking as if they would be engaged any day. The entire town had pretty much been expecting an announcement any time from them.
And then—with absolutely no warning—they were fighting and sniping at each other, out in front of the bakery, or on one of the streets by the cafe. Whenever they came within ten feet of each other they would spend the whole time fighting—with absolutely no clue as to why.
And then Mrs. Simpkins had suddenly announced that she needed a vacation, asking Katie and Freida if they could handle the bakery alone for a few weeks.
Not that either of us would have told her nee. . .
That had been months ago. And since then, Mr. O'Neal's visits to the bakery had slowed considerably, until he only came in on days when Mrs. Simpkins was not there.
Then, last week, once he had figured out she was gone, he had come in every day trying to get either of them to tell him where she was and when she would be back.
Until Wednesday.
And then on Friday, his nephew had called . . . not Mr. O'Neal. . . but Sean. . . to have his standing order delivered.
I hope Travis found out something about what has happened with Mr. O'Neal. . .
and that he's not angry with me.
Katie kept working. . . and thinking. The bell in the front room kept tinkling and Freida kept popping in to snag muffins and bread that Katie had ready for her.
But Travis didn't show.
* * *
Katie had just about decided that she would need to call their backup driver—when Travis came in the back door.
“I am so sorry I'm late, Katie. I overslept.”
She opened her mouth to ask him why, but he was already hurrying into the walk-in cooler, then rushing back out with his arms loaded down with white bakery boxes. A moment later, he disappeared out the back door.
Freida walked into the kitchen a second after the back door closed.
“Did I hear Travis? Is he finally here?”
Katie could only nod when the door opened again and Travis nearly ran past them both with barely a nod of acknowledgment.
“He overslept.” Katie raised her hands in a motion of confusion at Freida's questioning look after he disappeared into the cooler again.
Less than a minute later, he rushed by them again, not looking at either girl as he pushed his way out the back door with more boxes.
“Katie, do you think we were right? Did he find out that Mr. O'Neal is angry with us and he does not know how to tell us?”
Katie started to tell Freida it could not be that, but she stopped herself before saying a word.
Could she be right? This is certainly not normal behavior for Travis. And that call yesterday was certainly out of the ordinary for Mr. O'Neal.
“I don't know, Freida.” She started to say more, but the door opened and Travis rushed by them again.
Freida turned and quickly followed him. She appeared a few seconds later with him in tow.
“Travis, enough of this. Tell us what is going on!” Freida only let him go once they stood next to Katie.
Katie watched as Travis looked from her. . . to Freida. . . and back to her again. After a moment, he threw up his hands in surrender.
“All right. I'll tell you what I know, but it's not much.”
Neither girl said anything and after a few tense seconds, he went on.
“When I got to the cafe yesterday, Sean was there by himself. Mr. O'Neal was not there and Sean was frantic. Evidently his uncle left sometime Tuesday with no word to anyone and no one knows where he has gone.”
“Is that all?” Katie pressed, hoping for more details that might tell them if it was their fault—or if it could be anything else.
“He and Sean had an argument. He stormed out of the cafe after lunch and did not come back. When Sean tried to call him, he answered, but rushed Sean off the phone and said nothing about where he was or when he would be back.”
“You said Tuesday, jah?” Freida asked, her voice very quiet.
Katie thought back to Tuesday, the last day they had seen Mr. O'Neal. He had kumme into the bakery, asking again about where Mrs. Simpkins had gone. As promised, they had only said that they could not tell him. He had left abruptly and they had not seen him since.
“Yeah. Apparently he had come over here asking about where Mrs. Simpkins went. Sean said he was in a foul mood when he walked back into the cafe—and they got into an argument. His uncle stormed out after that and no one has heard from him since.”
“Katie, could he be angry with us?”
“I am afraid he might be, Freida.”
Travis spoke up then. “Or it might not be. He did argue with Sean. Maybe something happened there that made him angry enough to leave.”
Katie looked at Freida—who was looking right back at her. If she was reading her freind's expression right, she did not think that was likely either.
“Katie. . . Freida. . . stop. Don't jump to conclusions. We don't know what he was thinking. He could have just decided to take a trip—like Mrs. Simpkins did. Maybe all this fighting between them got to be too much for him too, and he just needed a break.”
Freida was nodding slowly, but her expression did not look like she was totally convinced. . . which was exactly how Katie felt.
“Anyway, I overslept because I was helping Sean clean up the kitchen over at the cafe. It was a disaster.”
“Well, that was very gut of you, Travis.” Katie turned to face him then.
He waved away her praise. “It was no big deal.”
“I am certain it was a very big deal to Sean. Without your help, it would have taken him at least two times as long.”
“Yeah, about that.” Travis looked away from Katie, and something in his behavior had her worried again.
“What is it Travis?”
“Well, it's like this. With Mr. O'Neal gone and Sean not really knowing what to do and me having some free time right now with no extra odd jobs to do, I told him I'd help him out at the cafe.”
“But what about the deliveries?” Freida, panic filling her voice, spoke up before Katie could say a word.
“I can still do the deliveries in the morning. And I can do the afternoon deliveries too. I just might be a bit late getting started.”
Freida still looked as if she was ready to panic, so Katie quickly spoke up. “That will work out just fine, I think. The afternoon deliveries can stand to be a bit late.”
“Katie, are you sure?”
“Jah, Freida. There is nothing so urgent that it cannot wait an hour.”
Travis let out a breath of relief and Katie turned back to him.
“So, you will do the morning deliveries here, and then go over to help Sean with lunch, jah?”
Travis nodded, but before he could speak, Katie went on.
“What about the High Tea today? Will you have time to do deliveries before—or will it have to wait until after?”
“That late in the afternoon might be too late for some people.” Freida interrupted Travis before he could answer.
Katie turned to her freind, trying to calm her concerns, but also confused about why she was so concerned about the deliveries.
“Freida, I think we can find some way to make it work. Travis, we only have two deliveries scheduled for this afternoon right now.”
Freida started to speak up again, but Katie interrupted her this time. “Even if we receive more, we can find a way to make it work.”
Travis spoke then. “I was just going to say that I could always take care of any deliveries we have between lunch and the High Tea.”
“That sounds like the perfect solution. Mr. O'Neal always says that lunch is winding down by half past one.”
“Exactly. That should be plenty of time for me to take care of any deliveries that cannot wait.”
After a moment, Katie added, “And if there are no deliveries that need immediate delivery, you could just stay at the cafe—and take care of things after the High Tea.”
Travis was nodding, but Freida still looked more than a little apprehensive about the situation. Shrugging her shoulders, she turned and headed back to the front room without saying anything.
“Is she going to be all right? She seemed pretty upset.” Travis looked concerned.
“Jah, for sure she will be allrecht.” Katie assured him. “I will talk with her.”
— FOUR —
Freida barely spoke to Katie after Travis left to make the morning deliveries. She breezed through the doors to the kitchen occasionally to pick up cookies and bread that was ready for the display case out front—or to retrieve a special order, but she never stayed long.
Since Travis had left the bakery, Katie’s thoughts had strayed to him—and their odd situation—more than a few times. The news he had given them about Mr. O'Neal was not at all reassuring.
He was gone, and no one knew when he would return. . . or even if he would. It was not a comforting thought.
Even less comforting was Freida's reaction to Travis' news this morning. She had been far more concerned than Katie would have expected from someone who should have been thinking about her upcoming wedding.
Perhaps she is just
upset over the misunderstanding with Mr. O'Neal.
That would make sense. Without knowing the reason behind Mr. O'Neal's sudden disappearance, it was all too easy to imagine the worst.
Even though she was trying not to be, she was concerned too.
She was also worried over what Mrs. Simpkins would think of losing Freida's help for several months and what she would say about losing Travis to the cafe. . . even if only for the afternoons.
She will never leave me in charge again.
Still, Katie had to wonder why Freida was so panicked over the deliveries. There were plenty of days they did not see Travis all afternoon because he had other odd jobs to attend to. He was almost always available for the morning deliveries, but he had even missed a few mornings over the past year, since he had started helping out.
Perhaps Freida is worried because Mr. O'Neal is missing and Mrs. Simpkins is not here and she knows we will be busy for Thanksgiving.
At least. . . that was the only reasoning that made sense to her.
Or perhaps she is feeling the stress of not being ready for the wedding.
“Katie, is the order ready for the mayor’s wife?”
Freida’s voice shook Katie out of her thoughts and had her turning towards the cooler. She took several steps before she remembered that her hands were covered in flour and little bits of dough.
“I will take that as a yes.” Freida smothered a laugh and Katie could only nod as she turned back to the tall prep table and the dough she had been working.
As Katie went back to her dough, Freida pulled open the heavy cooler door and walked inside to retrieve the order. She emerged a few moments later, a large box in hand, and then she was pushing through the swinging doors. . . just as Travis opened the back door.
Katie turned towards him in surprise.
“Travis, for certain, lunch cannot be over with yet. Not on a Saturday.”
Travis laughed as he turned, revealing a large basket he had concealed behind him. “Sean sent lunch as a thank you.” He set the basket down on the empty prep table by the back door. “I have to get right back. I just took advantage of a break in business to drop that by. There's nothing in there that will spoil quickly so you just get to it when you can.”
