Page 2 of Their Sweet Haven
Ben paid for his muffin and took the scent in. This is his routine. He’s here at 10 am every morning. If you want to get gas without your credit card at that point? Tough cookies, Ben needed his breaks. We always made sure to have a fresh one ready for him with how punctual he is.
He takes a bite. “Oh, this is heaven. This is what gets me out of bed every day.”
“That sounds awfully depressing,” Melanie says.
I glance at her with scorn, silently telling her not to judge the customers.
Ben cradles his muffin. “Your muffins are just that good. I don’t know what I’d do without them. Thank you, Hannah.”
He takes his leave, heading out the front door, until another semi-familiar face makes his way in. This one is in a suit and about half Ben’s age. Arguably, he’s twice as pathetic, though. He clears his throat. “Hannah Lee of Hannah’s Sweet Stoppe?”
“Yes, that’s me. You know who I am, Fred. We went to high school together.”
Fred’s always rubbed me the wrong way. He’s the type of person who reminds the teacher they forgot to assign homework. Upon graduation, he went off to Smithport to get an office job, since there aren’t a lot of opportunities for a professional brown noser in Evergreen Valley.
“This is a random inspection, I come on behalf of the Smith County Health Department. I need to investigate your bakery to make sure it’s up to code for restaurants and eateries for our fair county.”
“Sure, Fred, do whatever you have to do.”
I had nothing to hide, and this wasn’t my first. Most of the regulations made sense; they wanted to make sure I was not poisoning people for a quick buck. The only thing annoying me is Fred’s sense of importance as he struts about.
Doing whatever is needed to hurry Fred out of my shop, I open the door to the back for him and leave him to go about his business.
The bell hanging above the door rings again.
And the customers keep on getting worse and worse.
“I can’t believe this is what this town has had to deal with for a bakery all this time. This is pathetic.”
Lavender and I exchange glances. We’ve been dealing with this headache of a man for a bit.
“What do you want, Henry? Are you going to buy something or will I have to ask you to leave?”
He dramatically sighs. “If I must buy something to justify my presence, then I will. Give me one of those brownies,” he says, pointing at the furthest left item in the display.
Melanie pulls it out and wraps it up in wax paper before handing it to him, the usual modus operandi when it comes to to-go orders, because even a newbie like Melanie wanted Henry to go already.
No such luck. He immediately unwraps it, and takes a bite. There’s a slight smile on his face, then he forces a frown. “This is atrocious, you call this a brownie? It tastes like raw eggs.”
I cross my arms and my expression. “I’d prefer that your criticisms make a lick of sense, Henry. Even if it was undercooked, the flavor of eggs would be overpowered by, well... everything else in there.” I didn’t even know what raw eggs tasted like on their own, to be completely honest.
“Miss Lee?” I hear from the back.
I go to the back. “What do you need, Fred?”
“Miss Lee, why is there a rotting chicken breast on your counter next to your cookie batter?”
I squint at him, and look at where he’s pointing in utter disbelief. There it was, a chicken breast, and it utterly reeked. It was filthy and dirty, like someone had just fished it out of the dumpster.
“Where did that come from?” I say, gawking at the offending poultry. I look around for paper towels and cleaning spray, wondering how you even clean up such a mess.
“Miss Lee, are you serving your customers rotten food? All of this is ludicrously unsanitary.”
“I don’t have any chicken items on my menu, Fred.”
He clicks his pen and jots something down. “No chicken items? You don’t use eggs to bake?”
“What? Yes, of course I do. Actual chicken meat and eggs are vastly different.” I scratch my head in thought. The audacity of it all did confuse me for a moment. “Even if I guess they come from the same creature?”
