She got it all done with twenty minutes to spare. Wandering into the foyer, she walked by the awards case and looked at trophies from every decade. She saw some names she knew and faces that were the same, even though for some it had been decades.
At the far end was a plaque with all the students who’ve served and died in combat. Next to that was a picture of a girl who couldn’t have been very old. She may not have even been high school age since the school, kindergarten to twelfth grade, was housed in a slightly sprawled out building. All of which shared the gym. This girl had a beautiful smile and soft blonde hair she’d pulled back into a ponytail. Either she’d had braces or had been born perfect with teeth so straight and white they almost look paid for.
Daisy Larsen Scholarship.
“She was beautiful wasn’t she,” Mrs. Kennedy said bringing Merryn around before she could read the rest. “I had her in fifth grade. Well, I have everyone in fifth grade, but she was a sweetheart. Her sister was in my class the year after she passed.”
“Sister?”
“Trinity. She’s transferred somewhere I believe in Cedar Rapids. Sadly, their parents couldn’t hold on.”
“Who’s…” Merryn began to ask more when the fifth graders who’d been trailing her became anxious.
“Ms. Sota,” Kayla called. “We are ready to man the tables.”
“Okay, head on in. Principal Harris is in there and I’ll make sure we have enough people at the check out table.”
Merryn looked back once more at the teenager in the picture with the deep brown eyes. Between the name and eyes, it was hard not to think of Austin. Only this girl’s eyes were happy and she’d yet to see Austin’s that way.
* * * *
The smirk on Austin’s face had become permanent. To the point, his roommates were a bit nervous.
“Just tell me something,” Hank grumbled as he began releasing the feed into the trough. “Will I have a place to work tomorrow?”
“What does that mean?” Austin asked as he shooed Bo from underfoot.
“It means, I know you hate this farm.”
“No I don’t, it’s my home.”
“You were trapped here, Austin,” Hank said as he leaned on the railing. “Don’t pretend you weren’t. I watched you grow up on this farm. You’d work just hard enough to get free time to play ball.” Hank tossed the feedbag in the garbage bin and hiked up a second one. “As much as you loved playing baseball it was just a means to an end.” With a sigh, he dumped the bag. “What did you want to be? Because it wasn’t a ballplayer.”
“Anything but a fucking pig farmer.”
“Then switch to corn.”
“Okay, anything but a farmer.”
Hank shook his head. He’d always been more of a father than Austin’s own. More than once, he’d wondered why Hank hadn’t gotten his own plot of land and made a go of it himself. But then again, Austin’s farm was on the fourth generation and only the first had taken a chance like that. The rest were willed a working money making business. Even with the ups and downs, as long as they worked the land, it worked for them.
“There wasn’t a farmer among you kids.” Hank laughed. “Too spoiled I guess.”
“Waking at five to put in work before I got to school every morning only to come home and do chores until seven.”
“The reason your father could put food on the table and clothes on your back was because he didn’t have farm hands, besides me. When you were young, your father struggled like most farmers. The moment you could pick up a shovel and help, I could see the pressure off him.”
“Why do people farm?” Austin asked. “It’s a hard day’s work for little gain.”
“It used to be from necessity,” Hank said as they walked out of the barn with Bo at their heels. “It’s a noble profession, nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I’m not ashamed. Just tired.”
“This isn’t the life for someone who doesn’t have it in their blood.”
Ty and Lane were joking as they were cleaning out the pens. The spray from the hose shot out and hit Paul who was a second from killing them after the cold blast.
“Maybe I just didn’t want to be a kindergarten teacher.”
“I think you’re giving them too much credit,” Hank teased then snapped on the guys, “Knock it off you jackholes. Come on Bo, you can have their food.”
The dog looked up at Hank with hopeful eyes.
“Not happening Bo,” Austin said bursting his bubble. “Unless you sleep with Hank.”
Looking between the two men Bo trotted back to the house and sat outside the door.
The two men walked in silence, but he couldn’t help wonder about Hank’s original thought. “Are you really worried about me selling the farm?” Austin asked as they entered the home to the smell of Ty’s homemade chili that had been cooking all day.
“I know your mom’s bills aren’t getting any smaller,” Hank confessed. “And Chuck Zackary has been by the farm more than once in the past few months.”
“He’s made some nice offers.” Austin sighed while scrubbing his hands in the sink. “I can’t deny it. I’d come out ahead that’s for sure.”
“That why you were grinning like Bo when I toss him bacon?”
“No.” The memory of Merryn’s blue eyes sparkled back at him. “Just had to keep Buddy under control.”
“Hey, no fair,” Lane said as he shoved Austin out of the way. “You said I couldn’t kick Buddy’s ass.”
“You can’t, that’s a physical reality. I on the other hand, can put him in his place when he’s being an asshole. It’s a family thing you know.”
“What makes you think I couldn’t take him?”
“Buddy fought his way out of the womb and hasn’t stopped.” Austin grabbed the bowls and passed them around as the men lined up around the crockpot. “And I didn’t fight him, I just explained in a physical manner that his mouth was writing checks he couldn’t cash.”
“See, you think you could kick his ass, but I couldn’t.”
“I’m older and have more hatred built up than you,” Austin said.
“But I have nothing to lose,” Lane retorted. “Makes me an unknown variable.”
Hank and Austin shared a knowing look.
“What?” Lane snorted. “I know big words.”
“So, smacking Buddy around makes you a happy boy?” Hank asked redirecting the subject. “Don’t you think you got enough of that growing up?”
“He’s my cousin, I was looking out for him. Besides, today he was being a jerk to Merryn and embarrassing the family at that,” Austin replied hoping it would make them drop the conversation.
“And you were her hero?” Hank kidded.
“Merryn?” Paul asked. “The hot chick in the bakery?”
“Is she hot?” Austin replied, as his voice seemed a bit higher than normal.
“Holy shit!” Ty laughed. “The monk wants to roll in the flour.”
“She’s raising more than dough in that bakery,” Lane added and got a smack to the back of his head from Hank. “You didn’t hit Ty?”
“He’s too far away,” Hank said as he walked to his chair smacking Ty on the way. “But seriously, are you wanting your biscuits buttered?” he asked Austin.
“I’m sorry when did this turn into a quilting bee?” Austin went to his recliner and began crushing saltines into his chili.
“Look, Lane and Ty are man whores—” Paul started.
“Hey, I take offense to that,” Lane spat.
“Yeah,” Ty added. “Me too. We give it away freely. We’re more like sexual philanthropists.”
“My apologies,” Paul said as he restarted his comments. “We have the sexual healers, I’ve found myself in the company of old schoolmates on occasion. Hell, even Hank wanders through pastures with two legged creatures from time to time.”
“Why am I in the conversation?” Hank asked through a mouthful of chili.
“Because, Austin hasn’t gotte
n laid since Rae left. In fact, I bet he hasn’t even looked at a woman twice since she walked out on him, but suddenly he’s ready to kick ass for a woman.”
“Take an ass whooping more likely,” Lane said.
Austin raised his eyebrow at him.
“Either way,” Paul said knowing Austin almost as well as Hank. “You control what little emotion you have. At least you have for the last five years or so.”
“What’s your point?” Austin asked. “When did I show an emotion?”
“You were smiling like a cow with a pile of sweet grass,” Hank said as he held the spoon right by his lips. “And it’s been years since I saw that look from you.”
“Years?” Austin queried.
“Yeah, last time I saw that shit eatin’ grin, Rae had a new dress or was just back from a trip.”
“What you’re sayin’,” Ty added as he jumped into the conversation. “Is Austin likes a girl?”
“You like girls,” Hank grumbled. “I have a feeling a woman has tripped Austin’s trigger.”
“That’s no good,” Lane said. “Girls are easier to control.”
“Men don’t want to control,” Austin replied.
“I’m not talking bondage and licking boots.”
“I really need to take away your library card,” Austin mumbled.
“Lily would cry if I didn’t come by to see her every once in a while.” Lane stroked the little scruff of a beard as he pondered his world. “Besides, I know she stocks certain titles with me in mind.”
“Winnie the Pooh?” Austin queried.
“Did you see how he got us off the subject?” Hank said pulling the conversation back to Austin’s good mood. “Austin, what’s really going on? Do we need to all go out one night, so you can have alone time?”
“I’m not leaving,” Lane said. “Unless Lily is actually outside of her bedroom…wait…maybe I can—”
“Get murdered by her father?” Paul asked. “Because any man making a pass at her will be damned in this life and the next.”
“Are we talking about Lily or your ex wife?”
The tension heated up and Austin knew there was only one way to slow the guys down before the subject turned into one that would end with swollen body parts…and not the good ones, just black eyes, fat lips and bruised ribs. “Merryn,” he said and all heads turned. “Merryn, she owns the bakery and yes, I’m interested.”
“How interested?” Ty asked. “Have you been washing sheets more often…”
“I’m not twelve,” Austin spat.
“What’s your point,” Hank grumbled. “You lose your manhood.”
“No just moved on from puberty unlike you.”
“Pity.” Hank tossed a cracker to Bo who caught it and went to his bed.
“So, you want to heat up her kitchen huh?” Lane asked while scooping a large spoonful of chili into his mouth.
“Look, I’ve been interested and there you go.”
“Been?” Paul asked. “As in you have a crush on her?”
“Again, I’m not twelve.”
“And yet, you haven’t made a move,” Hank pointed out.
“When was the last time you made a move?” Austin snapped back, then threw Bo another cracker.
“Two days ago.” Hank cleared his throat and tugged on the bill of his baseball cap.
“With who?” Austin asked.
“I too, am not twelve and the whole kiss and tell thing is played out.”
“When was the last time you washed your sheets?” Ty asked with a raised eyebrow.
“You like Merryn huh, she’s got a nice ass, I can see that,” Hank said ignoring the probing question from Ty. “How about you ask her out? You know…dinner?”
“The last time I asked a girl out, it was to go cruising on the strip.”
“We have a strip?”
“Not really, but we used to do it anyway.”
“That’s back in the old days when gas was a quarter a gallon I bet,” Ty teased.
“Look, she’s nice looking, that’s all,” Austin said as he tossed a saltine to Bo.
“If that’s all,” Paul said propping his feet up on the coffee table. “Then I might just go check out her buns myself.”
Austin’s lip twitched for a moment as he glared at his friend. “Any other baker jokes?” he offered up while trying to suppress his anger at them discussing Merryn like a piece of meat. She was more than that.
“We’ll lay off, just promise me one thing.” Hank tossed Bo another cracker which he greedily gobbled. “Bring her a bouquet, not a bag of flour when you finally ask her out.”
Chapter Three
Snow had started falling when Merryn closed the bakery the night before. Thick fat flakes didn’t float down, instead they plopped. As the temperature dropped overnight, she expected the wet snow to turn into more. Funny, how she never listened to the radio or checked the TV for the weather when she lived in California. Then again, if she saw a rain cloud, it wouldn’t be there for more than a few hours and although it might effect traffic, it wouldn’t shut down the roads completely. In Iowa, she quickly learned fat flakes created black ice. The invisible sheen on the road naked to the eye while driving and soon to be covered in snow.
That wouldn’t be an issue if it weren’t for the fact most people aren’t scared of the snow and they speed along until the hidden menace sends them careening into a ditch. Merryn wrapped a warm chamois blanket around her shoulders and walked to the window. Wiping the condensation from the glass, she looked out on the streets to see them completely covered. The snowstorm was worse than she’d expected. Although she could tell someone had been plowing, with the little night action on these roads, they wouldn’t really be plowed until closer to six.
The local radio spent more time on school closings than music as she took her shower and got ready for the day. She would call the girls and tell them she could handle any customers today. No reason for them to come out in this weather. Especially, since she’d expected to spend her time on the online orders all day.
Going down the backstairs to the kitchen, she went to her office and saw the light on her answering machine blinking. Sharon from The Worthington Arms had been bombarded with snowbound travelers. In addition to her regular order, she needed bread and sandwich fixings. Merryn called back and talked to the overnight clerk. They arranged for the guys that plow to stop by.
“I’ve heard they’ve even talked about opening up the school and setting up cots in the gym,” Crystal said over the phone as they set up times for pick up. “Sharon figured you lived in the bakery, so you’d be the easiest to order from.”
Above, Merryn thought, but stayed silent. “Well, thanks for thinking of me. I was afraid today would be a total bust.” Merryn wandered into the pantry and started calculating. “I’m just glad I had a delivery a few days ago.”
She checked on the dough she had in her proofer. It’d risen perfectly and she moved it over to the oven before starting another batch of honey wheat. An hour later, she’d baked a dozen loafs of bread and had four dozen in various stages of proofing and baking. She’d started rolls and could finally work on donuts. When she looked up, she saw it was time to start coffee and open.
Wrapped in a warm coat, scarf and hat, she headed out to shovel her walk. Her first year in Iowa winter almost killed her. Now, she found it wasn’t that cold out, but as Darryl would tell it, it needs to be warm to snow. The conflict of the comment had set her at odds with the man at first, but now it made complete sense.
With the first shovel full of snow, she realized she should have done more than toss down some salt to prevent ice. Instead, it would have been worth the late bedtime to clear the sidewalk at least once before bed. No wonder the schools were closed. The plows would have problems with this. Why hadn’t she bought a snowplow? Being on the corner meant she was responsible for the sidewalk along the whole of her building. She may not have a wide storefront, but she had a long one.
Her musc
les ached worse than making hundreds of pies. Still in darkness, she tossed another shovel full to the side, then collapsed against the wall for a breather. She was sweating and debated going inside for water. Who gets dehydrated in a snowstorm? Looking back at the path she’d cut, it wasn’t the sidewalk she saw, instead a fresh layer of snow had already obscured the concrete.
Checking her watch, she dropped the shovel and ran inside. She’d almost forgot about the bread in the oven. Even though she’d set the timer so the oven turned off, the heat would still be trapped inside cooking the dough. One good thing, she still had her gloves on, so she could pull the racks of bread out. The plow guy was coming in an hour and the Worthington’s normal sweets order was due too. No one was out anyway, she would handle the sidewalk later.
The radio in the background told of an epic storm that would be getting worse…not better. Projections estimated they were in the first day of a three day storm. Even her internet orders would have to wait. Sure, the shipping guys would still be out and about, but she couldn’t stand the thought of making them come out in this type of weather. She would pull those together when the snow let up. Until then, it would be the Worthington Arms and nothing else.
Hours passed and after the plow guy picked up her baked goods, she set up a plan with him if she got low on supplies. Although he was responsible for the streets of Braden, he was willing to travel the back roads and make his way to Waterloo if the town got too low on supplies.
As Merryn kneaded dough and rolled it into circles for sourdough bread, she swore she heard a jingle from her front door. Waiting for someone to holler hello and not receiving anything, she continued working the mound. It probably had been something on the radio behind her that made the noise. But then something struck her as she looked up at the clock.
Triple B. Baking Co. Page 3
