Everyone loved Honey Warren or so I thought. Perhaps I was visiting the one person in this town who didn’t love my gran. Was this Gran’s way of making amends for something she had done. Hillya looked at the letter in her hand several moments then slowly opened it. I had expected her to ask me some questions first or tell me she didn’t have time to open it now.
Not wanting to stare at Hillya while she read the letter, I focused on the options in her bakery display. She had blueberry, banana, and praline pecan muffins. The cake donuts came in chocolate glaze, strawberry, and maple cream. Her cupcakes were works of art with pieces of candy bars, cookies and even tiny cupcakes as toppings. I glanced up as a girl came from the back carrying a tray of cookies and sat them down before helping the customer who had just walked in the door.
Hillya cleared her throat and I turned my attention back to her, hoping this wasn’t going to be something Gran had walked me into that was unsalvageable. If they had a grudge between them, I did hope Hillya could forgive Gran. She was gone now. There was no reason to hold a grudge. However, Gran doing anything to someone that would make them hold a grudge seemed unlikely.
“You bake gluten-free, dairy-free items?” Hillya asked me then.
I wish I had read that letter now. I had no idea what this was about and I had obviously been way off with my assumptions. “Uh, yes, I mean, not professionally. I just enjoy baking and I can’t have dairy or gluten... so…”
“You good with the low-calorie granola mixes and those bowl things that are all the craze?” she then asked.
I nodded. “Acai bowls? I make them for me,” I said.
Hillya folded the letter slowly and studied it before looking back at me again. “I’ve owned this place for thirty years. I’ve had to change it many times to keep up with the trends. Seems the trends have changed on me once again. Young people want healthier options. Nut-free options I have managed, but the gluten and dairy, I have not. I do not know how to make the granola bowls the way they want them or the best way to make them low-calorie. I will pay you twenty dollars an hour. Thirty hours a week. If you have any savory evening appetizers ideas, I am looking for those too. We add a full bar after four every day and stay open until ten. There are two different book clubs that are held here each month and we have a monthly author signing.”
I stood there, unsure what to say. I had never made any of my recipes for anyone other than me. my family, and some friends. My mother had tried and liked them and Gran had enjoyed my experiments in the kitchen but that didn’t mean others would. This woman was offering me twenty dollars an hour without even trying any of my creations. What had Gran said to her?
“Would you like me to make some of them for you to try first? Before you hire me?” I asked. I hadn’t wanted to get a job so soon, but I also hadn’t expected to get a job doing something I enjoyed. Something I thought I was good at, but I wasn’t sure other people would agree. At least not sure enough for twenty dollars an hour.
“Honey’s opinion is all I need,” she replied and tucked the letter into the pocket of her white capri pants. “I believe baking runs in your blood, even deeper than you realize,” she said with a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Can you start tomorrow morning? Fridays are busy and I could use the extra help. I get here at four, but if you could be here by five that would give me plenty time to show you things and you can tell me what all you need in order to make your creations.”
All I could manage was a nod. How could I say no to this? Well played, Gran. Well, played.
“Thank you,” I said.
The expression on Hillya’s face was sad, but there was something else there. Possibly hopefulness? Was her shop struggling that much? If it was on me to save the place that was a lot of pressure. “I believe we both have Honey to thank,” she replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Henley.”
When I was seated back in my car, I thought perhaps I should start reading all the letters Gran left before I delivered them.
“What have you gotten me into this time, Gran?” I asked, but of course she didn’t answer.
Starting the car, I pulled out onto the road and drove. I didn’t drive toward Gran’s house or the library. Instead I headed for the health food store in town. I needed to be sure they had what I needed before tomorrow morning. I didn’t want to show up empty-handed. I would feel better about things if I could walk in and bake some items right away for Hillya to try. I might also feel more confident at five in the morning if I spent my day today baking what I planned to do tomorrow.
Will had loved my banana bread and it was not only dairy and gluten-free but organic. Mom always asked me to make the dark chocolate granola bars and I could do those organic as well if I could find the right ingredients.
My mind began turning over all the different ideas and I grew excited about the possibilities. I was going to get to bake things that I created for people to buy. I would be lying if I hadn’t thought about it before but then I would push the idea away because I had no real training. I played around in the kitchen. I would have never had the confidence to apply for a job to do something like this, and yet, here I was with a job doing just that and it was all thanks to my gran.
Five
Two banana loaves, two dozen caramel oatmeal cookies, one batch of dark chocolate granola and one batch of brown sugar granola later along with a new idea in the oven I didn’t have a name for yet.
It was well past six in the evening and I was covered in oat flour, batter of many different kinds, and happier than I had been in a long time. While humming a tune my gran used to sing in the kitchen, there was a knock at the door.
I wiped my hands off on Gran’s yellow gingham apron and used my wrist to push the hair that had worked its way free from my bun out of my face then headed for the door. It wasn’t until I rounded the corner that I saw who was on the other side of the glass door. Pausing, I thought of several things at once. First of all, my appearance. It was very likely I had flour amongst other ingredients on my face and in my hair. Then of course the most important thing, why was Saul here and was I going to open the door?
I didn’t even know his last name. His eyes met mine and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to turn and walk away now. Not that I was so drawn to him but because I had better manners than that. I wasn’t rude. Besides, whoever Saul was he had helped me not once but twice. I doubted he was here to be rude.
When I reached the door, I opened it and forced a smile I hoped was polite. “Hello,” I said as if he hadn’t just watched me contemplating not coming to the door.
The corner of his mouth curled as if this amused him. “Did I interrupt something?” he asked.
I shook my head no. “Not at all. How can I help you?”
He continued to appear as if he may laugh at any moment. “You got some flour on your nose and forehead,” he said, nodding his chin in my direction as he said it.