Page 36 of No Going Back
Janie positioned herself at the long end of the dough and started carefully rolling it into a log. “I’m guessing you didn’t go to culinary school.”
Dianna shook her head. “Everything I know I learned from my grandma. She was…” Dianna paused, thinking of her sweet Nana. The one she looked so much like. The one who was the only person in her past who tried to help her love the body type they shared. “She was a fucking goddess.”
Putting those words on her grandmother felt almost as good as it did putting them on herself. She wasn’t the only one whose body her mother voiced an opinion on. More than once, she’d been forced to listen to how disappointing her mother found her grandmother’s shape to be, which was simple to take as a blanket statement that covered them both considering Dianna carried the same well curved shape.
“Then I guess that shit runs in the family.” Janie finished sealing up the role of blueberry and cinnamon then went to work slicing it into evenly sized rolls. “My grandmother chain-smoked and watched soap operas.”
“That would be my mother.” She’d come home from school every day to find her mother stretched across the couch, eyes locked on the television. It usually took her a good hour to even notice Dianna was home, but once she did there was no escaping the nitpicking. Her mother had been a popular cheerleader and it was clearly the failure of her lifetime that she didn’t produce her own skinny, outgoing daughter to parade around like a trophy.
Janie wrinkled her nose. “How is your mom now?”
Dianna shrugged, not having to fake disinterest. “She quit smoking, but I’m pretty sure she still watches daytime television.” She sliced across the top of the strudel in front of her, revealing a hint of its contents before settling it onto a baking sheet. “I don’t talk to her much, so other than that I’m not really sure.”
She and her mother hadn’t had a big falling out, they were just two completely different people. With so little in common, there was little to discuss, so any phone calls were short, simple check-ins. And that was probably for the best. She learned a long time ago she couldn’t change her mother. All she could do was change the way she dealt with her.
“Then it sounds like you took after your grandma.” Janie started lining the sliced rolls into one of the deep pans they baked in. “Which I’m going to say was lucky since she was a goddess.”
Dianna smiled, sliding one hand over the curve of her hip, loving the lines of her body a little more easily since they directly connected her to the woman she loved so deeply. “It’s definitely a win.”
The room went quiet as she and Janie both focused on their tasks, quickly working through all the prep work that went into running a Saturday at The Baking Rack. By the time everything was done and ready to go, the sun was barely setting.
Janie finished wiping down the main counter before untying her apron and hooking it into place. “I think we shaved another half hour off our time.” She grabbed her bag and looped it over her head, sliding the strap across her body. “And we put together about a third more than normal.” She held out a fist. “We might be awesome.”
Dianna bumped her knuckles against Janie’s. Hiring her was definitely the right thing to do, not just for her business, but also for herself. Janie was turning out to be one hell of a hype girl. “You are awesome. I’m kicking myself for waiting so long to call.”
Janie waved her off, pulling open the back door. “Change is hard.” She lifted her brows. “Trust me, I know.” She held the door, waiting as Dianna collected her own belongings. “But sometimes change is the best thing that can happen. It definitely was for me.”
Janie hadn’t been super open about what brought her to Moss Creek, but it was starting to seem like she had a story of her own. Maybe one day she would feel comfortable enough to share it. Until then, Dianna would simply make sure Janie understood how grateful she was.
“Do you want to take home a little tray of cinnamon rolls?” They’d managed to fill up all the large trays and had two loaf pans that each had two rolls placed inside. Dianna opened the fridge and slid them out, holding one Janie’s way. “These will be a pain in the ass to time in the big oven, so it only makes sense that we take them home with us.”
“Well,” Janie took the offered rolls, clutching them tight against her chest, “it does only make sense.”
Dianna tucked her own rolls into one arm and grabbed her keys. “I’ll see you Monday afternoon.”
Janie paused. “Are you sure you don’t need help tomorrow?”
Dianna shook her head. “I make sure Mondays are easy so I can have all day Sunday off. All I do Saturday afternoon is get everything organized so I can assemble it easily Monday morning.”
She didn’t hate a six-day workweek, but there was no way she would drag Janie into her insanity. She pulled the door closed and locked it behind them, giving her new employee a wave. “Enjoy your weekend.”
Janie shot her a wink. “You too.”
Dianna slid into her car, settling her bag and the rolls on the passenger seat, waiting to make sure Janie was on her way before driving down the alley and onto the main road.
It was impossible to ignore the way her heart rate picked up as she turned into the tiny neighborhood she called home. It was still relatively early and Griffin was probably still working at the house, which was good. She wasn’t trying to get in the way of his plans, just like he wasn’t trying to get in the way of hers. She could just bake up the rolls she had really quickly and drop them off so he could have a quick snack before getting back to work.
Dianna pulled into her little single-car garage, carefully easing her sedan into the cramped space before closing the door and jumping out. She may have been moving a little faster than she normally would as she quickly preheated the oven and rushed back to take a shower. Once she was scrubbed clean, the oven was hot, so she slipped the rolls inside and went back to dry her hair, using a boar bristle brush to smooth it into full, soft waves.
After a quick sift through her clothes, she settled on a fresh pair of leggings and a long-sleeved, tunic style T-shirt. The air was starting to get cool in the evenings, and as far as she knew, Griffin didn’t have his ducts hooked up or the furnace running.
The oven timer went off just as she was stuffing her feet into a pair of sneakers. She mixed up a quick glaze as the rolls cooled, drizzling it over the top before grabbing a couple of forks and heading out, the warm pan wrapped in a towel so she wouldn’t burn her fingers.
Griffin’s front door was open, as always, but now it was blocked off by a beautifully carved screen door. The sight of it stopped her in her tracks halfway across the porch and she paused to admire the beautiful scrollwork covering the bottom and running up the sides.
“Everything okay?”
Her eyes centered on the screen to find Griffin standing on the opposite side. “I was just looking at your door.” She reached out to run her fingers across the stained and varnished surface. “It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
