She folded her hands on the rough wood of the picnic table, the seat still cool from the shade of the huge oak tree spreading its branches over them.
“So what can I tell you about the business? What would you like to know?” she asked, forcing a perky smile to her face.
“Mostly how things are going for you financially,” Dale said as he drummed his chubby fingers on the table, his pinkie ring flashing in the light. “Is the business going well?” He leaned forward a bit too close and Melissa was thankful for the space between them.
“I think business is going well.” Melissa heard his questions through a growing buzz in her head and she tried to focus on what he was saying. “It’s only been about a month, so it’s hard to tell.”
“Have you set on any plan for bringing in business from outside the community?” Dale said, reaching up to scratch his head, his toupee shifting as he did so. In spite of her throbbing head, Melissa had to smile. Guess undertaking didn’t make enough to pay for a decent wig.
“Bygones is struggling financially,” he continued, “And our hope was the new businesses would bring in clientele from outside the town to boost the town’s revenue.”
Melissa drew back even as she experienced another pang of guilt. What Dale said underlined what Coraline had said last night. “I’ve got a few contacts established in Concordia and I did a job for a hotel in Junction City. But it’s more difficult for me given that I’m not from the area.”
“That might be something you could discuss with Brian. He’s well established in the community and has a number of connections.”
Again he was repeating what Coraline had said, and this morning she had considered doing just that. Until she saw the poster he had put up advertising his mechanic business last night.
“I doubt he’d be much help. He only sees himself as an employee.” Brian wasn’t invested in the business of the bakery. To him it was a job he had to do. Reluctantly at best.
“I understand he wasn’t your first choice.”
“He wouldn’t have been my choice at all,” Melissa replied. “In fact he was last on the list. Kind of bottom of the barrel,” Melissa said with a sigh, her headache making her more blunt than usual. Even as she spoke the words, she realized that wasn’t what she meant. Yes, she would never have employed an unwilling person, but since he started, Brian had surprised her with his work ethic.
He kept the bakery clean and neat, constantly sweeping, washing up and organizing, making things easier for her, doing things she never asked him to do.
Dale’s frown barely made a pucker in his smooth forehead. “I’m sorry to hear he’s not working out for you. We can try to find someone else for you if you wish.”
This was exactly what she had hoped to talk to him about earlier, but now it was too late. She was about to negate his suggestion when—
“Miss Sweeney, Miss Sweeney.” A frantic voice cut into the moment. She turned to see Jack Montclair jogging across the street in her direction, waving at her. It looked like he had come from the bakery. “I’m looking for Brian,” he called out.
He took a few more hurried steps across the park, then stopped at the picnic table, resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath, his face the color of strawberry jam, his white hair sticking up like chalky fingers.
The dear man looked like he was having a heart attack.
“What’s the matter, Mr. Montclair?” she asked, getting up to help him. “You look all out of breath and flustered.”
“Grandpa?” Brian suddenly appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, looming over Melissa and his grandfather, his hands grasping Jack’s other shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
Where had he come from? Had he been sitting on the other side of the tree the entire time?
Melissa’s heart flopped over as the words she had spoken about him rose up like an accusation. But she couldn’t deal with that. Jack was huffing and puffing beside her, clutching his chest.
“Would you like a drink?” she asked, twisting the top off the unopened bottle of water she had brought with her.
As Jack gulped the proffered water down, Melissa chanced a look at Brian. His eyebrows were like a dark slash over his blue eyes, his hair falling over his forehead, his one hand still holding his grandfather’s shoulder, kneading it for comfort.
He looked forbidding but at the same time she couldn’t help feeling a faint hitch in her heart at the concern he showed for his grandfather.
“What’s wrong?” Brian asked, squatting down to get closer. “Why were you running?”
“Let me...get my...breath,” Jack gasped, sucking in more air.
Melissa saw a flare of concern in Brian’s eyes.
Then Jack took another drink and gave his grandson a weary look. “Someone broke into your garage.”
“What? Are you okay?” Brian asked. “Why did you come running all the way here? Why didn’t you phone? Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“I’m fine. I didn’t phone because I forgot your number and I didn’t go to the police ’cause I thought you should know first.” He waved off his grandson’s flurry of agitated questions as he caught his breath. “I wouldn’t have noticed but I went down to the garage to get a screwdriver. I’m sorry, son, but it looks like someone emptied your toolbox. Took all your wrenches, sockets, screwdrivers and pliers. Took the power tools, too.”
“What? The power tools?” Brian’s expression grew tight. Hard. “How in the world could they have done that?”
Jack blew out another sigh, looking glum in the face of his grandson’s anger.
“If I ever catch the person who did this...” Brian let the sentence trail off as he clenched his fists.
Fear flickered through Melissa as she shot Brian a sideways glance. He looked furious enough to do serious damage.
“Did you hear anything?” Brian asked his grandfather. “Anything that could give me an idea of the slimy thief?”
Jack blew out another sigh. “Didn’t hear a car or truck. Whoever did it made a bunch of trips on foot. Had come and gone all morning. I didn’t even notice.” Jack looked at Brian, apology written all over his face. “I’m so sorry, son. I’m sorry I didn’t catch whoever did it.”
“No. Grandpa, don’t say that,” Brian replied, the harsh note in his voice at odds with his soothing words. “I’m glad you didn’t go out there. You might have gotten hurt. It wouldn’t have been worth it.”
“But they got all your tools,” Jack said, catching Brian by the arm. “I know how much those cost you.”
“Won’t your insurance cover that?” Melissa asked.
“Not for the full value.” He gave her a clipped response. “Maybe a quarter. I’m on the hook for the rest.”
Brian pulled in another breath, clenching and unclenching his fists. “So I guess I’ll have to let Joe Sheridan know.” He looked over at Melissa, his blue eyes like flint. “Okay if I go and file a stolen goods report at the police station, boss?”
Melissa blinked at the cutting tone in his voice. “Of course,” she said. “You don’t have to ask.”
“I’m thinking I do,” he said. “After all, I’m just an employee. Bottom of the barrel. The last person you would choose.”
Melissa’s heart flopped over in her chest.
Guess he had heard every word she said.
Chapter Six
“We won’t be able to do anything right away. Sorry, Brian.” Joe Sheridan made a quick note on the report Brian had filled out, slipped it into a new file folder and dropped it into an already overflowing file tray. He pushed his baseball cap back on his thinning hair as he got up from a wooden chair behind a desk piled high with files and assorted papers. A computer that looked almost antique stood to one side beside the bits and pieces of paper pinned to the bulletin board. Behind th
e desk obscured wanted posters had been hanging there as long as Brian could remember. “Ever since I had to let Liston go, I’ve been swamped and shorthanded.”
Brian pressed his lips together, trying not to let his exasperation and fear show. “So you won’t be able to investigate it at all?”
“I can maybe come in a couple of days,” he said, then the radio clipped to his shoulder squawked out a request. Joe reached over, clicked it and muttered something back. Then he turned to Brian. “Sorry, got a B & E I have to deal with on top of a nuisance report I’ve been trying to get at.”
“That’s more important than my missing tools?”
Joe gave him a pained look. “Sorry. You’ll have to get in line. Besides, I’m sure your grandfather walked all over the footprints and I won’t be able to figure anything out from them even if I come right away.”
“The longer you wait, the more messed up they’ll be,” Brian protested.
“I’ll come when I can.” Joe held the door of his office open for Brian to exit.
Their footsteps echoed against the beaten cement walls, making Brian feel even more depressed. “Heard you were working at the bakery,” Joe said as he pushed open a set of glass doors leading into the reception area. “How’s that working out for you?”
Brian shot him an annoyed glance, wondering if he was hassling him, but Joe’s brown eyes stared back at him devoid of mockery.
He shrugged. “It’s a paycheck.”
“I imagine you miss working at the factory,” Joe said, resting his hands on the heavy belt weighed down with his holstered gun, flashlight and the other paraphernalia of a police officer.
“I do, but I’d hoped the SOS Committee would have approved my mechanic shop.”
This netted him another apologetic look from Joe. “Yeah. Sorry that didn’t work out for you.” Then Joe grinned. “But who knows. That Melissa Sweeney is one good-looking girl. Maybe you two can—”
“Forget that,” Brian said, holding up a hand to stop Joe. “I’ve got nothing to give any girl.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Joe said. “You’ve got more to offer than you realize.”
Brian’s mind flashed to Melissa, his boss, the very person he had nothing to offer. Then he shrugged off Joe’s comment, said goodbye and walked over to where his grandfather sat paging through worn and dog-eared magazines.
Grandpa looked up as Brian came near and slowly got to his feet. “So? We casing out the scene of the crime?” His eyes lit up with eager expectation as he rubbed his hands.
“Nope. Joe has more important stuff to deal with. They’re short-staffed.” Brian blew out a sigh of frustration. “Which means I can’t make an insurance claim for the few dollars I’ll get until they do a police report.”
And the hits kept coming.
He dragged his hands over his face and tried not to let the circumstances of his life beat at him. He’d managed to do a couple of oil changes over the weekend and had booked an engine overhaul for next week. It was a lot of work to get the grease out of his fingers so they looked good for his bakery work, but he was thankful for the mechanic jobs and the extra income they had brought in.
And now? He couldn’t even do that.
“Thank goodness you have a job at the bakery,” his grandfather said as they left the police station.
His grandfather meant well, but his comment made Brian even more frustrated.
If he hadn’t been working at the bakery he might have been working in his shop. His garage wouldn’t have been broken into because he would have been there. Now he would have to work for at least four months at the bakery just to get back to where he was financially when he started.
“I’ll have to cancel that engine overhaul I was doing this week,” Brian grumbled as they walked down Bronson Avenue to where his truck was parked. “I’ll bring you home and then I should get back to work or I might lose that job, too.”
Melissa’s words still echoed in his head as they got to his truck. Her last choice.
He hated how her words had struck at the core of his being. It was hard enough to hear, period, but coming from her, a woman he couldn’t help his attraction to, made it even harder to swallow.
“You want to have a look at the shop?” his grandfather asked when Brian dropped him off at the house on the outskirts of town.
“Actually I do.” He turned his truck off. “I’ll take a few pictures. Might help Joe solve this.”
He pulled out his phone and he and his grandfather walked down the driveway to the shop.
“Guess I should have locked the shop,” Brian said as he and his grandfather opened the door. “I never had to before.”
“What is this town coming to?” His grandfather sighed. “Didn’t think I’d see the day there would be a crime wave in our hometown.”
Brian turned to his workbench, his heart dropping at the sight of the empty spaces where his grinder, cutoff saw, impact wrenches and compressor used to be. But what really tore at his soul was the open drawers of his mechanic tool chest. Empty. Hundreds of dollars worth of tools. Gone.
He thought of the new posters he had put up around town and in Concordia in the hope that he could drum up some more mechanic business.
And now?
Brian plunged his hand through his hair, frustration clawing at him. Now? Can that idea.
“Do you have any idea who could have done this?” Grandpa asked, his voice quiet, fully understanding how devastating this blow was to his grandson.
“Whoever did this wasn’t wearing boots. Just running shoes and not big ones at that.” Brian glanced down at the footprints again and shook his head as he snapped a few photos, then dropped his phone in his pocket.
Grandpa put his hand on Brian’s shoulder. “I’ll be praying for you, son. Praying that things will come together for you one way or the other.”
Brian gave his grandfather a wry smile. “You better start off with praying my boss doesn’t fire me. I really need this job now.”
* * *
“Here’s your scones, Miss Ann. Enjoy.” Melissa forced a smile even as she felt as if her head would burst with each pound of her heart.
“Are you sure you should be working?” Ann Mars said as she took the crinkly paper bag from Melissa’s hand. “You look all pale and shaky.”
“It’s what I do,” she said as Ann nodded, then slowly shuffled out the door.
She had no choice but to work, Melissa thought as she headed to the back of the bakery to frost the third layer of the anniversary cake she’d been trying to finish all afternoon. Amanda had a dentist appointment she had forgotten about and Brian had still not returned.
Twenty minutes and six customers later she was finally done piping the last of the pink and blue flowers. The cake was to be a replica of the couple’s wedding cake, three tiers with the names swirled in icing on the top tier.
The back door opened and she looked up as Brian came into the bakery. As usual, he seemed to fill the space with his presence and as usual, Melissa’s heart gave a tiny jump when she saw him.
She shook off her reaction, blaming her weakness on the headache that she couldn’t shake.
“Did you figure anything out?” she asked, not encouraged by the scowl that darkened his handsome features.
Brian only yanked his apron over his head. “I spent way too much time filling out a police report that won’t be looked at until tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, not sure what else to say.
“Guess this is God’s way of telling me what I should be doing.”
“I’m not so sure God wanted your tools stolen,” Melissa replied.
Brian arched one eyebrow her way, as if surprised by her comment. “I’m not so sure He wanted me to work here either, but here I am. Bottom of t
he barrel.”
His words gave her a guilty start and she paused, giving him an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”
“Really? How did you mean for it to sound?”
“I had to work off a list the SOS Committee gave me.”
“And I was the last person on the list. So, bottom of the barrel,” he huffed, walking past her to deal with a customer.
Melissa watched him go, annoyed with herself, knowing she shouldn’t have said what she did.
Melissa leaned against the bench and closed her eyes. She could blame her previous outburst when she was talking to Dale on all kinds of things: Brian’s ongoing resentment, the headache that dogged her.
Or the fact that, in spite of being exactly where she wanted to be doing exactly what she wanted to do, she still had a sense of something missing.
She glanced at Brian’s retreating back, her heart giving the same little thump every time she saw him.
She turned back to the half-full bowl of frosting left over from the cake, trying to shake off the feeling. He had made it clear in many ways that he wasn’t interested. In her or her bakery.
She wasn’t feeling well. That was what her problem was. She’d been going full tilt since she came here, determined to prove herself to the community and the committee. All she needed was a good night’s sleep. Things would look different tomorrow.
Maybe tomorrow Brian would forget what she had said.
* * *
That was the last of the customers. Brian locked the door of the bakery precisely at 5:30 and pulled the blinds on the bay windows.
He glanced at the display cases, disappointed to see how much product was left. He’d have to inventory the leftovers, package them as day-old and inform Melissa that today wasn’t as good a day as yesterday.
The Bachelor Baker Page 7
