<< Go Back

The Right Ingredients

By Nancy Shew Bolton

Order Now!

Ann hoped the bakery stayed empty of customers. She needed every bit of concentration to decorate the cake the way she envisioned it. Her eyes scrutinized the last patch of undecorated surface. Almost done. Shifting on the chair, elbows planted on the low icing table, she pressed her lips together and leaned closer. She calculated the perfect angle to hold the frosting bag.
A stray hair drifted into her line of vision and she blew out a quick upward breath to deflect it. How on earth could any strand escape her coiled braid? She should have worn the hairnet. But hairnets were old-womanish. Still, she preferred them to the flimsy paper hats she and Susan wore the first year they opened the bakery. They never fit well, and exasperated her by sailing off her head when she rushed past the ceiling fans.
The bell on the bakery’s front door tinkled. Ann sighed and wished Susan would return from deliveries. She glanced through the archway and out the picture window. Maybe she’d appear. No such luck. Oh, well.
“Be right there,” she called. Ann set down the icing bag, rose from the chair and angled her hips to slip past the table. As she stepped sideways, two bees zoomed in and flew toward her. She startled, brushed both hands to scare them away and lost her balance.
In helpless shock, her stomach fell as her forearms, palms and chin landed on the cake and sunk in while a groan escaped her. Ann lifted her head and stared in total horror. Loud moans erupted. “No, no, no.”
As though a protest would change anything. Tears gathered. She drew away from the cake, and straightened up. One little wobble, and her handiwork was destroyed.
“Are you okay?”
Ann stared at a tall, sturdy man in jeans and a tee shirt. He stood in the archway between the front and back rooms and surveyed the scene. “I’d have stayed out there, but I heard you cry out and thought I’d better check on you.”
Ann’s lip trembled. She pushed against the tide of emotion. No tears in front of customers. The two bees danced on the frosting, poking around on her ruined cake. “It’s all their fault. I tried to do everything right, and see what happened?”
She pointed a frosted finger at them while her tears overflowed. Through the blur, she glanced from the excited insects over to the man. She blinked to clear her vision. His eyes were
sympathetic, and his mouth wore a suppressed grin. He stood in a firm stance, yet appeared poised to offer assistance. Ann searched for a clean part of her arm and brought it up to first brush the tears, then the frosting beard off her chin. She must look like some sort of clown.
The merriment left his face. “I’m sorry. I think maybe they flew in when I opened the door. Can I help?”
“That’s kind.” Ann attempted a smile. “But I don’t think you can fix this cake. And please don’t feel bad about the bees. They love to break in here with all this sugar.”
She strode to the sink and turned on the water to wash off the pastel colored mess. “I’ll be out front in a moment.”
“Okay.”
Ann finished her clean-up, wiped off her chin, hands and arms, and dabbed the towel on her eyes. She tied on a clean apron, straightened her shoulders and stepped to the front room of the bakery.
“Well, you look better.” He laughed. “I’m sorry, but that was pretty funny.”
Ann imagined her ridiculous appearance before she cleaned up and couldn’t help joining him. When their laughter subsided, he asked, “Feeling better?”
“Thank you, yes.” She needed a laugh.
“I’m glad. Must’ve been frustrating.” His obvious sympathy unlocked her natural reserve.
“I’ve decorated it for almost an hour, and now I’ve got to start the whole thing over from scratch. My business partner isn’t back from deliveries and I have more cakes to make.” She didn’t like to complain.
Take a breath. She shrugged. “Anyway.”
He grinned. “You seem pretty young to run a bakery.”
“I don’t feel young today.” She grimaced and shook her head. “I guess it’s technically not a bakery, either. We only make cakes and cookies. Susan and I work here together, four years now, since college.” She blew out a breath. “Gets pretty crazy sometimes. Who knew the organic cake business would be so popular?”
He chuckled. “I’m not surprised, after all the raves I’ve heard. You know, I’ve had days like yours.” He stretched out his hand. “My name’s Tom Tillman. Sure hope your afternoon gets better.”
She clasped his offered hand and gave it a shake. “Ann Shaw. Around here most days are hectic, though I don’t usually fall on the cakes. I want to thank you for offering to help.”
“Wish I could have. I’m a capable farmer, handy with the livestock, but no good at cake fixing. Or baking, which is why I’m here.” He spread his hands out towards the display case.
“Hey, how ironic. A farmer with the last name Tillman. Till-man. Do you get teased?”
“Sure. Especially back in college. They loved to goof on me and make up nicknames. They also told me I had no choice in professions because of it.”
They shared a laugh.
“So, that’s why you’re a farmer?”
Tom shook his head. “No, I’d be one even if my name was...Ann Shaw.”
Ann’s cheeks grew warm at the way his tone dropped. She’d never connected to a customer so fast. He was easy to talk to.
The bell chimed and three men who wore green electric and gas company uniforms marched in and sat at the counter. Ann nodded at them.
“Hey, guys. Fred, Bill, Skip.”
They were what she and Susan called regulars. Fred, in his late forties, arrived every morning before work, always sporting his cap with the company logo on the front. Ann wondered if he even wore it to bed.
“You can wait on them first,” Tom told her.
“Coffee?” She started towards the carafes.
Fred announced, “We need twenty-one cups to go, and some cake. We’re gonna surprise one of the fellows on his last day before retirement.”
She’d halted after his first few words and turned to stare at him, then back at the lone, half-full carafe of coffee next to the line of four empty ones. Fred had been there this morning. Why didn’t he mention needing coffees and a cake later?
Ann’s lifted spirits deflated. “Is it all right if it has no writing? I’d need extra time.” She glanced over at Tom, expecting him to be annoyed at the wait. Instead, he looked on with an interested air. She hurried toward the coffee pots and calculated how much she’d need to brew.
Fred’s tone sounded apologetic. “Well, it is kind of spur of the moment, but could you put his name on it? We’ll wait. Right, guys?”
They nodded in unison.
Ann kept her breaths even. In quick motions, she started the coffee brewing and turned back to Fred. “Okay. Is one sheet cake enough? It serves twenty-four.”
“Sure.”
“Which kind? We have a chocolate with cream cheese frosting, a raspberry with vanilla, and a lemon with coconut. I wouldn’t choose that one, though. It’s too hard to write on the coconut.” She stayed in business mode while part of her remained aware of Tom.
Fred glanced at the others. “The chocolate one?”
They all agreed and Ann lifted it from the showcase and placed it on the counter. A tall, middle-aged woman rushed in and smiled at her. Ann darted a glance at Tom. She should wait on him first.
Tom gave a slight tilt of his head toward the newcomer and told Ann, “Go ahead.”
He appeared to enjoy all the activity. The carafes let out little hisses of fragrant steam, and coffee aroma filled the air.
“What can I get for you, ma’am?”
“We’re having an office party. They told me to pick up one of your sheet cakes.” She caught sight of the one on the counter. “Ooh. What kind is that one?”
“I’m sorry. I sold it to these gentlemen here.” Ann gestured toward Fred and company.
“Hmm.” She made a small grimace before her features brightened and she pointed at the showcase. “Is that lemon coconut? I’ve bought one before.”
Ann nodded.
“I’ll take it.” Ann boxed it, entered the sale and turned toward the coffee area. She exchanged a smile with Tom on the way.
Ann lined Styrofoam cups along the counter where the carafes of coffee were. She poured with efficiency while she held each cup still. The timer in the back room buzzed. Ann blew out a breath and pressed her lips together. Her mind ordered out the sequence of tasks she’d need to accomplish. Get the cakes out of the oven before they burn, hurry and pour the coffee before it cools off, wait on Tom, and write on the sheet cake.
Susan, where are you?
The front bell sounded. This was too much. Ann’s shoulders slumped as though someone plunked a loaded yoke across them. She glanced over, first to Tom, then to the short slender man
in business clothes who stood next to him and studied the contents of the showcase. Tom walked the length of the counter and stepped around behind to stand next to her.
“Let me help. I’ll pour the coffees.”
She hesitated, unsure.
He gave a slight raise of his eyebrows. “I can handle it. I know how. I use to work at a diner during college.”
“Thank you,” she breathed out. Ann grabbed the sheet cake off the counter, informed the new customer she’d be right with him, and shot Fred a quick grin. In the back room, she set it down on the clean part of the icing table, and glanced at the squashed one nearby. She allowed a quick scan for the missing bees, and whisked the pans out of the ovens.
Ann ran back out front to wait on the latest shopper.
“What can I get you, sir?”
“Hmmm. They look so good.” He pointed at the upper showcase full of small cakes. “Which kind is this one, and that one—oh, you might as well tell me what they all are.”
Breathe. Breathe.
She cleared her throat and rattled off the varieties while the customer emitted noises that indicated his pleasure. Too harried to respond to his approval, she waited and tried to appear patient.
“I’ll take the chocolate cherry one.” Ann boxed it up for him, completed the sale and turned to Fred.
“What’s the name?” She glanced at Tom, who grinned at her and snapped the tops onto the coffees.
“Jerry. With a J.”
“How about ‘Congratulations, Jerry.’ I can write the years on, too.” Ann poised at the archway.
“Good. Thirty-eight. A whole decade longer than me.” Fred beamed at his companions.
“What color do you want the writing in?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Fred shrugged.
“Of course it does.” Ann shook her head at him and delivered a good-natured roll of the eyes.
“You pick it then.”
Ann dashed to the back, and chose a bag with mocha icing. It would be attractive on the cream colored frosting. Wow. Thirty-eight years. Yikes. Her entire lifetime plus thirteen. The thought hit her and halted her decorating for a moment. She heard the bell sound again as she finished and hurried to bring the order out front.
“Be with you in a minute,” she told the young woman who stood by the showcase.
She slid Fred’s cake into a box and observed with pleased surprise how Tom had parceled all the coffees into bags, folded the tops and placed them into one large carton. He’d added packets of sugar, creamer and plastic spoons as well. Ann beamed at him and entered Fred’s sale. Tom walked around to the other side of the counter and nodded at Fred and the guys as they passed by with their purchases.
The new customer’s eyebrows lifted as she regarded Tom. “Do you work here, or are you waiting, too?”
Tom laughed. “Both, I guess. But you go ahead.”
Ann couldn’t help a chuckle. She turned her attention to the woman.
“What can I get you?”
“Pick-up for Wilson.”
Ann hurried to the office in the back to retrieve the order. The cold, air-conditioned air refreshed her while she located the boxed cake and reluctantly exited, closing the door. A few quiet minutes in the room with her feet up would be bliss. She rushed out and completed the sale. When the customer left, Ann smoothed her apron and breathed out a big sigh. She smiled at Tom. “Thanks so much for your help. I should give you a free cake.”
“No, no. Besides, I may have let the bees in, which made trouble and extra work for you. It’s the least I could do. Is it always this busy?”
“Often enough.”
He whistled and shook his head.
She grinned, took a small breath and fixed her mind on business. “So, what can I do for you?”
“I want to order a birthday cake for my son.”
“Oh.” A twinge of disappointment surprised her and made her ashamed. She pushed it away. No wonder he’s helpful. A family man. “Birthdays are fun. Though I always dreaded mine.”
“Why would you dread it?” Tom’s eyebrows rose.
Ann gave out a short laugh. “I didn’t like all the attention. Getting sung to and everyone watching while I opened presents. I used to wish I could hide.”
Tom chuckled. “Ah, an introvert. And you work with the public. You seem to do just fine.”
“It took quite a while to get the hang of it, believe me.” Ann shook her head. “Susan had to wait on everyone most of the opening year until I managed to without the jitters. I’m probably an extreme version of introvert. Mom says my first sentence was ‘Go away.’ I think I said it to one of my older sisters.”
Tom shared a congenial laugh with her, his eyes warm. Okay. Back to business. Why would he want to hear so much information? Ann’s reserve kicked back in.
She reached for her order pad. “I need to know the variety of cake, how many people you’re serving, when you want it, and the name, age, and design to put on it.”
His features took on a perplexed aspect, brows crinkled as he looked up. “Hmm, name, age and kind I know. I’m not sure on the other things…”
He tapped a finger on his chin, and glanced down. “He likes chocolate. I guess chocolate cake with vanilla frosting.”
“All right. Now I need his age and name and whatever toy or activity he likes most.” Ann held her pen poised over the order pad and flicked a gaze at him. His eyes were so dark blue, they almost appeared purple.
“Jesse. He loves tractors and goats, and he’ll be four.” Tom’s face held a pleased, proud air as his head lifted.
They figured out what size he needed and Ann wrote it all down with the date.
“So, how much will it be?” He reached into his pocket and produced a wallet.
“You don’t need to pay until you pick it up.”
“I’d rather settle it now. After all, you’re going to do the work.” He smiled at her. “If something came up and I couldn’t get here, it wouldn’t be fair. It’s happened to me before. I don’t want to do the same thing to you.”
Ann peered closer as her emotions moved from surprise to gratitude. She’d become accustomed to dealing with rushed, stressed people who wanted everything their way and right now. Most of them didn’t seem to consider her or Susan’s efforts. “I wouldn’t think it would happen to a farmer.”
“You bet it does. I once had a guy order five gallons of goat’s milk and eight dozen eggs. I got it all ready for him. He never showed up or called, and I hadn’t gotten his number. I didn’t make the same mistake again.” He shook his head.
“Now you’ve mentioned numbers, can you write yours here at the bottom of the receipt in case we need to call you?”
“Sure.”
He took the pen and pad she held out. She studied his strong, sun-browned hands as he wrote. She glanced up at the edges of medium brown hair curled underneath the rim of the ball cap he wore.
“What time do you want this on Saturday?”
He flashed his grin again. “Is noon too early?”
“Not at all.” Ann returned his infectious smile as she placed the money in the register. “We’re here by six a.m.”
“I guess a bakery’s like a farm. I’m in the barn by six, unless Jesse’s having a slow morning. He insists on dressing himself now he’s a big boy.”
“I always thought farmers got up at four or something.”
Tom laughed. “Most do. My Dad and I figure six is early enough. We don’t work jobs off the farm, so we can start later. I’m sure Jesse appreciates the extra sack time. I’d hate to roust him at four in the morning.”
The remark puzzled Ann. Why should a little boy have to wake up when his father did? Jesse must be a light sleeper.
“Well...thank you, Ann. I’ll be here at noon on Saturday.”
“And thank you, again.”
He touched the brim of his cap as if to salute her, grinned and ambled out. After he hopped in his truck and started it, he waved before he drove away. She waved back and stared after the truck until it vanished. Why couldn’t all their customers be like him?
He’s so calm. Content. Maybe because he’s outdoors a lot. Ann gazed out at the bright summer sunlight flickering on the leaves. Thank goodness for the picture window. At least she could view the outdoors. The brief rise of optimism yielded to a momentary image of her pet hamster from years ago. He’d lived his life in a large glass aquarium with a running wheel and a
wire top. But she’d kept him safe from the cats and other dangers. She sighed. Safety is important.
Susan drove in the lot. Now things would ease up. She strode in haste to the front door, her smile huge, expression elated. Graceful, tall, and bird-quick in her movements, Susan never seemed to lack enthusiasm or energy.
She burst through the door. “Hey Ann, this is awesome. The restaurant guy called me and said they want to start offering our cakes on their dessert carts. So I stopped in to hammer out details with him. He wants a variety of four different kinds delivered before dinner service starts.”
“Tonight?” Ann struggled to keep the dismay from showing in her voice and face. Susan looked so thrilled, how could she dampen it?
“Yeah.” Susan nodded with a big grin. “Isn’t it wonderful? I’ve wanted to land some restaurant orders. If this works out, who knows?”
Ann swallowed and tried her best to appear supportive. Who knows? It may kill me.
“Well, let’s get busy.” Susan bustled to the back room. “Gee, what happened here?”
“Two bees startled me and I fell on the cake. I’ll clean it.” Ann stepped through the archway.
“Are you okay? Did they sting you?” Susan scrutinized Ann’s face.
“No, they were more interested in the cake than me.” She scanned the room, peering at the ceiling. “They’ve gone somewhere.”
“Guess they ate all they wanted. Good. Satisfied customers.” Susan laughed and donned her apron.
Ann couldn’t help a grin at Susan’s joke. But why couldn’t she share the same hopeful excitement as Susan? She cleaned up the mashed cake and the table while her thoughts returned to how kind Tom Tillman had been to her.
When she glanced at Susan scooping flour into four bowls, she couldn’t stop the questions. “We’re doing them from scratch now? Why don’t we send over four we’ve already done? We still have other orders to fill.”
Susan took butter from the refrigerator. “Goodness, no. I want these to be as fresh as possible, so he’ll trust our quality of work. It’s a fancy place.”
“Susan...” Ann held her palms up in an exasperated bid for mercy.
Susan grinned and put her hands on her hips. “C’mon, let’s impress him. We can do it.”
Ann sighed and turned back to work. All the product in the showcase had been baked today. How fresh did cake need to be? She knew this would be a long night. Images of her bed waiting at home flashed through her mind while she worked. The back room heated up and the ceiling fans whirred on high speed to release the waves of hot air shimmering out of the ovens.
Susan delivered the restaurant order after they locked the front door at five. Ann continued work on the standing orders for morning. Susan returned and the hours passed while they finished, boxed and placed the cakes on shelves in the air conditioned office. They still had to clean up.
By the time everything was done, the clock showed five past eleven. Ann had been too busy to eat since the quick snack she’d grabbed around five. Now she only wanted sleep. No wonder she’d lost so much weight. Ann trudged out to her car, arms and legs rubbery. She turned the key. The engine labored and stopped.
Please not now. Not tonight. Ann switched from dread and tried encouragement. Maybe it would work.
“C’mon, you can do it. Here we go.” Two more tries, and the engine turned over. She blew out a breath of relief and drove to her apartment. She hoped it wouldn’t stall out before she got there. Somewhere in the distance, her life raced on ahead of her, and it took all her effort to try and catch up.

Order Now!

<< Go Back