Page 9 of No Going Back
But Janie wasn’t in her business. She was just helping out for the day. Frosting some cinnamon rolls. That was it. It would be fine.Shewould be fine.
“The next tray of cinnamon rolls will be done in about five minutes. They need to rest for five more minutes and then they get frosted with two cups of cream cheese icing from the tub on the counter.” Dianna stood a little taller, feeling slightly more capable after the explanation flowed smoothly. “Then put another of the pans in and set a fifteen-minute timer.” She motioned to the line of rising buns down the counter. “After that, everything gets moved up in order and a new tray gets pulled out of the fridge and set at the last spot.”
It was her version of an assembly line, one that had a fresh batch of risen buns ready to go in as soon as the pan before it came out of the oven.
Janie lifted her brows, propping both hands onto her hips. “You’ve got this shit down to a science, don’t you?”
Dianna smiled, trying her best to believe what Janie was saying instead of what someone else tried to burden her with. “I try.”
“You should probably try a little less.” Janie nodded toward the line waiting at the register. “Otherwise you’ll never be able to manage the crowds.”
Six months ago Dianna might have thought that was a great problem to have. That a full bakery would finally undo the years of damage Martin did to her ego and her soul.
But that didn’t seem to be true.
Janie pointed at the register. “You go handle them. I’ve got the cinnamon rolls.”
“Thank you.” The amount of relief she felt was unexpected and unnerving, but nothing she had time to dwell on because there were customers waiting to be served. Customers she wanted to keep happy enough that they would continue coming back.
Dianna gave Janie a quick smile. “Let me know if you need anything.” She turned and went to the counter, greeting the next person in line with an apology that they had to wait so long.
The rest of the morning passed by in a blur of cinnamon rolls and lattes, most of which were crafted by Janie, who turned out to know her way around the espresso machine. By the time the afternoon lull set in, all the cinnamon rolls were gone, the day’s cakes had been dispersed, the dirty pans had been scrubbed clean, and Dianna wasn’t nearly as exhausted as normal.
Janie sidled up to her at the counter. “Is it always like that here?”
“Lately it has been.” It was an admission she hadn’t offered to anyone, not that she really had anyone to offer it to. She had many acquaintances in Moss Creek—people like Maryanne and Mae Pace, along with the rest of the women they socialized with—but admitting to them she was struggling felt like a form of failure. And she didn’t want them to see her as a failure. This place was supposed to be her fresh start. Her chance to prove who she really was.
And she didn’t want to be a failure.
“Well,” Janie reached down to untie the length of apron string she’d circled around her body, “if you decide to hire someone to help out I’m looking for work.”
Dianna studied the woman beside her, wracking her brain for anything that seemed familiar. “Are you from Moss Creek?”
Janie shook her head. “No. I just moved to town. A friend of mine lives here and loves it so I thought I’d see what all the fuss was about.”
Dianna’s brows lifted. “Really? Who’s your friend?”
Janie pulled the apron over her head and passed it to Dianna. “Mariah Duncan. Do you know her?”
“I do. She works for Maryann Pace at The Inn.” Mariah was great. She was sweet and cute and one hell of a great cook. She was also the kind of woman who tempted Dianna to make comparisons. Comparisons that resulted in harsh judgments about herself and all the ways she’d been told she was lacking.
But she was learning to be kinder to herself. Kinder to the woman still struggling to be fine even after all this time.
“That’s her.” Janie smiled wide. “We went to culinary school together.” She tipped her head to one side, smile slipping. “At least until I dropped out.”
Dianna couldn’t help but be thrown off by the revelation. “Why did you drop out?”
If this morning was any indication, Janie seemed like one hell of a go-getter, so the fact that she quit school was surprising.
Janie lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “It wasn’t really my thing I guess.” She huffed out a little laugh. “Not that I know what my thing is, which is super depressing considering I’m almost forty.”
“You know what they say.” Dianna took the apron and hung it over one shoulder. “Forty is the new twenty.” She rolled her eyes to one side. “At least that’s what I’m telling myself as I get closer to it.”
She’d expected to be someplace entirely different at thirty-seven. Someplace that included an adoring husband and a couple of kids.
Instead, she was divorced and the bakery was her baby.
It was what kept her up at night. Ate up all her time and stressed her out.
