Page 35 of No Going Back
Troy and Amelie came through right after he bought it, and it seemed like they both might have thought he was a little crazy to take on the project, so he was eager to show them how far he’d come. Hopefully it would make it easier for them to see the house like he did.
A little bit of a mess but one that would be worth the effort.
The place was one of the biggest in town, and definitely the most grand. Between the soaring ceilings, the extensive custom woodwork, and the multitude of fireplaces and stained glass, the house could be a showstopper. One he couldn’t help but feel might be a little wasted on him.
Amelie rocked up onto her toes. “I’m excited to see what you’ve done.” She hooked one arm through Troy’s as they followed him down the hall. “That’s why I dragged him down here this morning instead of making you come to us.”
She didn’t mean it the way it sounded, but he still had to clarify. “I don’t mind coming to you.”
He was the one who had missed out. The one who wasn’t a part of his own son’s life. The burden of effort in this situation fell squarely on his shoulders. Which was why he needed to be more careful about the time he spent with Dianna. Especially if Troy and Amelie were going to start dropping in.
“I know you don’t mind.” Amelie turned to grin at him over one shoulder. “But we don’t mind coming to visit you either.” She wiggled her brows. “Especially once this kid gets here. We might dump him on your porch and run away for a few hours.”
The fact that he was about to be a papa still felt surreal, and honestly he wasn’t remotely equipped for the position. He’d never changed a diaper. Never made a bottle. Hell, he’d never even held a baby.
“I might need a few lessons before that happens.” Griffin scrubbed up the back of his neck, fighting through the sense of inadequacy always hovering a little too close. “Otherwise you might come home and find both of us crying.”
THIRTEEN
DIANNA
“WELL LOOK AT you.” Janie walked in through the back door of the bakery, hair pulled up on top of her head, dressed in the same leggings and T-shirt Dianna wore to work every day. “I like the change.”
Dianna reached up, barely avoiding putting her fingers on the newest bit of her journey toward the woman she’d always wanted to be. “You really like it?”
Janie snagged one of the aprons from the hook inside the door, pulling it over her head and around her front. “I love it. It definitely suits your face.”
Dianna smiled. She didn’t want other people’s opinions to affect her own, but it was nice to hear someone else felt the same way she did about the delicate gold ring laced through one nostril. “I love it too.”
“That’s all that matters anyway, isn’t it?” Janie went straight to the fridge, pulling out the piles of dough they’d mixed up the night before and lining them down the stainless-steel counter.
The same stainless-steel counter she might have once been sprawled across.
Dianna forced her eyes away from the surface, wishing it was as easy to redirect her brain. Things had been different with Griffin since Troy and Amelie showed up at his house a week ago. He hadn’t gone back to avoiding her like he did before, and she hadn’t been avoiding him, but it was almost as if there was some unspoken agreement to put a little distance between them.
It was for the best, she knew that, but it was still disappointing in a way she couldn’t entirely face.
“Tomorrow’s going to be a really big day since it’s Saturday, so I usually make extra of everything.” She forced her brain to the task at hand, which was continuing to get Janie acquainted with the workings of the bakery.
After hurrying from Griffin’s house Sunday, she immediately went home and dug around to find Janie’s number, calling her up but never expecting she might still be available after all this time. Luckily, Janie had been helping her friend Mariah out at The Inn but was available to help Dianna as well since she only worked at The Inn in the morning, leaving her afternoons free.
“I figured as much when we put together all this dough last night.” She pulled out the vat of blueberry pie filling they’d also cooked up, setting it beside the dough. “What do you want me to focus on?”
She and Janie had only worked together a handful of times, but already Dianna was kicking herself for not calling the woman sooner. It was very clear Janie understood she was only there to serve as an extra set of hands, and always made sure she was doing what Dianna wanted. Of course she did take initiative when she knew a process had to be started, like taking the chilled dough from the refrigerators, but she never overstepped and never pushed.
“If you could handle the cinnamon roll assembly, that would be amazing.” Having someone else to handle that task was making a bigger difference than she ever imagined. It meant she was able to have cinnamon rolls available every day of the week instead of simply being part of the rotation, and she was already seeing how that could raise her income enough to more than pay for Janie’s wages.
While Janie put together the rolls, Dianna focused on assembling the strudels, wrapping the first batch together before sliding them in the oven.
“I think these are going to sell like crazy.” Janie carefully spread the blueberry glaze over a rectangle of dough before sprinkling on the cinnamon/brown sugar combination that went into all the rolls. “You might end up having to make a fruit variation every Saturday.”
Dianna pressed her lips together, a little excited about the possibility. She hadn’t had the opportunity to expand her offerings lately. It had taken everything she had just to handle her tried and true items. But she loved coming up with fresh ideas more than anything. It was what she’d done with her grandmother when she was a little girl, standing at the counter of the old farmhouse where she spent most of her summers, mixing up pies and pastries and cakes. Her grandmother showed love through food, and Dianna had clearly inherited that trait.
“I wonder how peaches would do?” She was already working through the recipe in her mind. “Maybe with almonds?”
“I’m willing to bet you can make just about anything taste amazing.” Janie shot her a lopsided smile. “You’re kind of making me regret dropping out of culinary school.”
“You don’t have to go to culinary school to be a good cook.” Dianna worked through the next batch of strudel, piling up cherry filling before folding everything together. “I’m sure it probably helps you make connections, and gives you a certain amount of experience, but some of the best cooks I know never went to culinary school.”
