“Would you do that?”
“Why not?” Holly grabbed hold of her sister’s arm and pulled her down. “It’s my legacy, too.”
By eight the next morning, Holly realized that she’d bitten off far more than she could chew. The list of instructions had seemed manageable the night before, sitting in the cozy living room with someone who knew what she was doing. Today? If Holly made it through the next few hours without tugging out every single strand of hair, that would be a miracle.
The first batch of cupcakes that she’d put in the oven had gone brilliantly. When she turned them over on the rack to cool, the scent filling the air had been so divine that it was all she could do to stop herself devouring one. Or two. Or three.
With the next batch in, and the first batch cooled, Holly turned to frosting. Simple. A trick that as a child she’d performed a thousand times over. Surely, she wouldn’t have lost the knack.
Her confidence was outweighed only by the enormity of her failure. With one hand in sub-par condition and a gap of twenty years since she’d last attempted anything similar in earnest, the result was disastrous.
If Halloween had been around the corner, perhaps Holly could have salvaged the situation. A pair of googly eyes stuck into the mess she’d made, would be a saleable item at least.
No such luck.
The frosting had been too thick at first. When Holly spread it across the cake, instead of forming a glossy layer, it pulled up the crust and gathered a mess of crumbs into its trail.
That was a simple fix.
Holly added a smidgen of hot water, only to find that the mixture immediately went the other way. With half the batch still waiting with mouth-watering appeal, naked, Holly started from scratch again.
Lucky her curly brown hair was tucked away in a plastic net, or it would have been in danger of being pulled out, right then and there.
The ganache was a simple recipe she remembered from childhood. What Holly didn’t remember was how easily it separated when just one thing moved out of balance. Instead of stirring together, it became dry and lumpy. A far cry from the smooth velvet that had been her aim.
The oven dinged, signaling that the next batch was ready. Great. Except Holly had wasted so much time on the anti-decorating that a new tray wasn't prepared to go into the oven.
The sweat forming on Holly’s brow wasn’t due just to the heat from opening the stove door.
When the first customer pressed their nose against the glass, all that Holly had to offer them were the day-olds. Given the failed cakes strewn across the benches in back, they were the only safe bet to be edible.
“How’s it going?” Meggie cried out as she breezed inside. She sat at the table while the three people in line waited their turn to be dismayed.
“You have nothing fresh?” the first in line exclaimed in a voice so loud and rich with disappointment that at least the rest in the queue were forewarned. “Why did you bother to open then?”
“Hey, Gladys. Don’t be so hard on her,” Meggie called out. Holly felt a surge of gratitude light up her chest with warmth. “Remember that the police were poking around in here till late.”
Perhaps the reminder that the police thought her sister had attempted to kill someone wasn’t the best thing to remind the customers. Within seconds, the crowd had dispersed, straight out the door.
“Oops.” Meggie had clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with horror. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
Her expressive face was so stricken that Holly couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “It’s just as well,” she said. “With the mess that I’ve made in back, I’d probably poison someone if I served up what I’d baked.”
Meggie relaxed and joined in her laughter. She stood up from the table and walked around the counter, waving her hand at the door. “Lead on through and show me the damage.”
Holly obeyed and displayed the glorious smelling mess with a wave of her hands. “Welcome to the Holly bakery. Every cake a complete disaster!”
“Oh, my.” Meggie edged forward, picking up one half of a cake that had broken apart after the application of too-thick frosting. She broke off a tiny piece and placed it in her mouth. Immediately, her eyes brightened, and dimples appeared in Meggie’s cheeks. It looked like the first flush of true love.
“These taste absolutely divine!”
Holly cupped her elbows in her hands, forming a crisscrossed shield across her belly. “Do you really think so?”
“Oh, honey. When it comes to cakes, I never lie. These are even better than your daddy’s, and that’s the biggest compliment a person can offer around here.”
Holly took a step back and blushed. “Thanks. I don’t think—”
“No! Don’t you dare refuse my compliment when I’ve been good enough to pay it to you.” Meggie wagged her finger as she lightly scolded Holly. “If you can’t take pleasantries, then your life will be very arid, indeed. Now repeat after me: These are the best cakes that Meggie Falcon has ever tasted.”
Despite her blush intensifying until her face was in danger of catching fire, Holly obeyed and recited the phrase. Her tight chest loosened with every word.
“Not that it will matter if I can’t learn to decorate them.” Holly picked up a bowl with congealing ganache failure number three and screwed up her nose.
“Give that here.”
Holly handed it over, wondering if Meggie was about to say something sweet about the disaster. She tensed, rising on her toes. If the hairdresser gave her more praise for that, it would ultimately negate the first.
But even Meggie eyed the mixture inside the bowl warily. “I don’t know how you managed to mess up cream and chocolate, but you did.”
Her expression turned thoughtful, and Meggie pointed to the cakes. “What do I need to be wearing if I’m handling these for later sale?”
“An apron, gloves, and a hairnet,” Holly recited on automatic pilot. “And a strong constitution,” she added, surveying the mess again.
“You’ll have to do it then since you’re already kitted up.” Meggie patted her hair. “There’s no way I can tuck this grand style into a net. My customers would take one look at me and hightail it out the door!”
After laughing again, Holly took the bowl from Meggie’s hands. “What instructions am I following?”
“Put those”—Meggie pointed to the crumbled array of cakes—“into that.” She pointed at the bowl. “There’s no way we can salvage this mess into cupcakes. What we can do is run a special on cake pops.”
“That’s brilliant!”
Holly mixed the cakes and ganache together. The split topping ceased to matter once it was overwhelmed with crumbs. Halfway through the endeavor, Meggie looked down at her watch and gave a start.
“Goodness! I have an appointment in ten minutes, and I need to get everything ready. You’ve got everything in hand here, now. Don’t you?”
“I certainly do, thanks to you.” Holly escorted her new friend out into the shop just as a new customer entered. Esmerelda. Even though Holly now knew the hunching over the cane was an act, she still felt sorry for the wizened old woman.
“I don’t have anything fresh at the moment,” she said, while Meggie eyed Esmerelda with a strange look that Holly couldn’t place. “We’ll have something by mid-morning.”
“I didn’t come here for cakes. I came to give you this back.” Esmerelda slammed the old book down on the counter. “This isn’t what I asked for. Not at all.”
Holly walked behind the counter, picking the book up. “It was the one you pointed to,” she said with equanimity. “There’s no need to be angry.”
She picked up the old notebook and flicked through the pages, seeing the mistake at once. This was a ledger, each page crammed with calculations in tiny writing. Nothing to do with recipes at all.
“What book was it that you’re looking for?” Meggie asked, one hand gripping the door and holding it open. “Would it be the recipes that Mr. Waterston s
pent his life developing and perfecting and that you have no right to ask for?”
“This is nothing to do with you.” Esmerelda stepped over to Holly, pointing a scrawny finger at her chest. “You mind your own business. The grapevine tells me that if you don’t, it’ll soon be reclaimed by Mr. Masters. Since he’s wound up in hospital, I might suggest to the police that they take a closer interest in you!”
Chapter Ten
Meggie’s kind face twisted into fury. “Don’t tell me about business, you old coot. Not when you’re standing in this bakery trying to steal something that will never belong to you. Get out.”
She pointed outside, her hand trembling with rage. Esmerelda backed up a step, looking toward the counter and Holly. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Your dad promised me that I could have his recipe book when he died.”
“If that were true,” Meggie said in a quiet voice. “Then Crystal would have passed it to you after the lawyer settled the will. She didn’t because you have no entitlement to it at all. Now get out and leave this poor woman alone. Holly’s had enough trouble without more from the likes of you!”
Esmerelda shuffled out the door, moving as slowly as possible as though she knew that Meggie was running late.
“You want to watch that one,” Meggie said, shutting the door when the old woman had finally gone. “She’s constantly in here, trying to sneak stuff that she shouldn’t.”
“I didn’t know that Dad’s recipes were worth anything, except to us,” Holly admitted. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll be on the lookout from now on.”
Meggie got halfway out the door then turned back with an eyebrow raised. “Welcome to Hanmer Springs. Hot pools, attempted murder, and old witches!”
She mimicked Esmerelda’s overacting and hobbled out the door on a wave of Holly’s laughter.
Holly phoned home just before the mid-morning rush. Both to ask her sister to ring the suppliers and see if they’d mind taking a delivery of cake-pops rather than cupcakes and to check on how she was doing.
How Crystal was doing was not very well at all.
“I keep thinking of poor Derek. How awful to be sitting in Christchurch with his dad in ICU and no one close around to talk to.”
“I’m sure that being close to his father during this time will be a lot more healing for him than if Derek was sitting at home. Simon will look out for him. Whatever the state of our relationship, he’s got good instincts for when to step in and when to leave somebody alone.”
“I suppose being around a man during this time might be helpful,” Crystal said. “It can’t hurt him to be exposed to a different behavior set than his dad.”
She paused for a long time after that statement, before bursting out, “I can’t believe I just said something so horrible about a man who’s nearly dead!”
The anguish in Crystal’s voice was so intense that Holly wished that the sergeant had been in the room to hear it. No one listening to that emotion could think that her sister was responsible for Mr. Masters’ terrible fate.
“Don’t dwell on things,” Holly suggested. “Why don’t you go out and do something fun for the day? Treat it as a holiday.”
“The only fun I need is baking.” Crystal paused and then admitted, “Okay. That did sound a little sad. I could go on a short hike, I suppose. Despite living right by the forest, I never seem to venture into it anymore.”
“That sounds great,” Holly said. “If you stop by the bakery and wave, I’ll bring you out a cake pop as a treat.”
“Ugh. Cake.”
For some reason, this struck Holly as absolutely hilarious. For a full minute, she couldn’t stop herself from laughing. When she regained control, Holly asked, “Do you know an old lady called Esmerelda?”
“Don’t you let her in the store!” The fright in Crystal’s voice was alarming. A second later, she continued on, calmer, “Sorry. That sounded like she was a mass murderer or something. The lady is always trying to get hold of Dad’s recipe book. Once, she tucked it under her jumper and tried to walk straight out of the store!”
“I almost gave it to her,” Holly admitted, feeling foolish. “She asked for it, and I didn’t even think to check with you.”
“What do you mean almost?” The alarm was back in Crystal’s voice.
“I handed over a ledger of accounts or something instead. Really old-school. Dad must have been keeping it.”
“He always liked to keep his own records,” Crystal said. There was a strange tone to her voice that Holly couldn’t decipher. “I’ve been trying to keep it up, too. Even though Humphrey does our official accounts.”
“I haven’t met Humphrey. I’ll need to see him soon.” As soon as the words were out of Holly’s mouth, she wished to take them back. Instead, she pressed her lips together, hoping that Crystal wouldn’t think anything of it.
Her sister was smarter than that.
“Why do you need to see Humphrey?” An edge was in her voice, so sharp it could cut if Holly wasn’t careful. “The bakery is my business, not yours. You have the house, I have the bakery. That was dad’s will.”
Should she come clean now? Holly couldn’t see a way out of it. Stupid foot. Why did it have to insert itself into her mouth now when there were so many other worrying things going on?
“The lawyer contacted me and sent the bakery accounts down. I do have a small share—ten percent—just like you have in the house.”
“Why did he send them to you?” Crystal demanded. “I’m right here in town. That feels a lot like he went behind my back.”
“He did.” Holly sighed. “Gregory Collins said he’d tried to talk to you but hadn’t gotten very far. He was worried that the house would be eaten up by the outstanding bills owed by the bakery. As he explained it, his wish was to avoid that coming at me straight out of the blue.”
“He had no right! I’m sorting it.”
The wounded tone of Crystal’s voice poured guilt into Holly’s listening ears. If only she weren’t such a coward! They could have discussed the matter face to face when Holly arrived, instead of over the phone.
“I’m sure you are, but he wanted me to know.”
“Is that why you came down here?” Crystal sobbed. “Not because you wanted to visit me and see that I’m all right but because you were scared that I’d mismanage you out of a house?”
“It’s not like that…”
But Holly was listening to a dial tone. Crystal had hung up the phone.
Although Holly wanted to run to her sister and explain, the mid-morning crush of customers began to flood through the door as soon as she replaced the receiver on the phone. Unless she wanted to throw the rewards for her effort that morning away, then Holly had to stay and serve. After that, there would be deliveries then the afternoon crowd.
Although she felt frantic that Crystal was alone and dealing with yet another blow, Holly had to get through the day.
Crystal had been on top of things enough to contact the suppliers. Leaving the shop to Ben next door, Holly drove out on the route that Crystal had mapped for her the night before. At the first entry, she expected surprise at what she had to offer. Instead, Holly was greeted with cheerful acceptance.
“We weren’t certain at first,” Mr. Wallis said. He ran the kitchen for the nicest hotel in town. A compliment to the bakery that their goods were the best on offer. “But then I chatted with the waitress, and she said it would be charming and retro.”
Retro. Holly realized that she was so old that cake pops had gone from a brand-new craze, to outdated, then all the way back around to be rediscovered again. When did the world start to move so fast?
She clamped her lips together as Holly realized that the thought just showed her age again.
Without the gift for patter that Crystal possessed, Holly was done with the delivery route in twenty minutes. As she brought the empty trays into the back of the bakery, it occurred to her that Crystal should have easily been back the day before well
before the time she’d actually arrived.
What had Crystal been doing?
Surely, even a drover with the slowest sheep in the world wouldn’t cause a delay as long as that one.
Not a question that Holly would be putting to her sister anytime soon. Not with the blow she’d just delivered.
When Meggie came into the shop in the afternoon, Holly felt like collapsing into her arms and crying. Although the customer’s faces were friendly enough, someone to talk to who would listen was a special treat.
“I’ll fetch a coffee if you’ve got time?” Holly asked. Her chest filled with the warmth of gratitude when Meggie smiled and said she did.
“You look like you’re having a worse day than you were this morning,” she said, taking a seat at the table. “What on earth has happened?”
Holly pursed her lips up, hesitant to spill the details of the shop’s private finances, even to a friend. Then she remembered Esmerelda’s tirade that morning. From what the old lady said, it seemed that Meggie’s business was stuck in the very same boat.
“The bakery hasn’t been doing well lately.”
“Nonsense.” Meggie stated the word so firmly that Holly began to doubt herself. “I’ve seen the steady stream of traffic and repeat customers this place gets. I’m green with envy. No way are you in financial trouble.”
“We are.” Holly sat down at the table with coffee for each of them. The fortification was well overdue, and she sipped hers eagerly, burning her upper lip in her haste.
“Careful,” Meggie warned too late, then shook her head. “I can’t believe it. Five years ago, every business around this place was booming, and none of us had anything like the visitors that we have now. How can everybody be struggling when our customer numbers keep going up?”
“I guess the overheads have gone up with them,” Holly said. “I’ve gone over the numbers again and again.”
“Lucky that you’re able to.” Meggie put her coffee down and looked ashamed. “I’ve never been able to get my head around the math involved.”
The Sweet Baked Mystery Series - Books 1-6 Page 7
