Page 44 of Bear in a Bakery
She drove up the tree-lined, inclined driveway, hating herself for being wowed by the forested beauty of MB’s property. Ahead, the trees opened to a manicured clearing of lawns and massive gardens, with a sprawling, two-story log home as the centerpiece. She was directed up the circular driveway and around back where four large, white tents were set up. People milled all over the grounds. It was like something from an uppity British television show. Everyone had champagne flutes in their hands. The men were dressed in three-piece suits with colorful, patterned ties, and the women all had fanciful hats adorned with feathers and gems.
Apparently, you had to dress like an idiot to attend this thing.
A waiter offered to help unload the bakery boxes and directed Allie to a table beneath the dessert tent. Together, they arranged cupcakes, sticky buns, and other goodies, leaving the extras in boxes beneath the covered table for easy refilling. She thanked the waiter, and then unsure what to do next, pulled up a little stool and sat.
“No, no, silly girl. Stand up.”
Marybeth breezed over with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She wore a bright blue dress with a billowing skirt and a train that floated across the ground behind her. Eyeing the desserts with clear delight, MB tapped her fingers together as if she were trying to choose what to sample first. “You’re the hired help, dear. You stand until you’re dismissed.”
Allie tempered the anger that flared to life. She’d offered to serve guests as a curtesy, so she could schmooze potential customers, not as a hired waitress. MB picked up a cupcake and turned it side to side, studying it like something might jump out and bite her. Finally, she looked at Allie, dipped her finger in the frosting and made slow work of licking it off. She swirled her tongue around the tip of her finger and thrust it into her mouth a couple of times. Her eyes locked with Allie’s as she made slow work of sucking her own finger, in and out. If she was trying to be indecent, it was working.
“Mmmmm, yes. I think I’ll give this one to your father.”
“Marybeth!” Allie burst off the stool. That was it; she’d reached her limit. No more! “Your behavior is completely out of line.”
The older woman gave a blasé expression and dug her finger into the center of the cupcake. She withdrew it and made a face. “Oh, dear. I think I’ve found mouse shit in your cupcake. Oh, Allie. No one will ever buy from you again. Bye, bye, Sticky Sweet.”
Allie’s mouth dropped. The mice in the bakery had been caught before they could—
“Oh, my God,” Allie breathed. “You released the mice in my bakery?”
Marybeth took a bite out of the cupcake and tossed it at Allie’s feet.
“I believe I’m about to get terribly sick from your contaminated treats, Allie Mae. I’m suddenly not feeling very well. Who would, after eating mouse shit?”
She grinned like she’d just won an expensive prize. Allie came around the table, equally at a loss of what to say and raging to unleash on Marybeth. She’d never been a violent person, but she was past her limit now and the urge to beat the older woman’s face in was as instinctive as breathing.
Guests began to filter into the tent,oohingandaahhingover the vast selection. Marybeth spun to the group, waving them toward the cupcakes.
“They’re delish! Try them! You won’t regret it.” With a wink, she glided away, leaving Allie shaking.
What should she do now? The cupcakes weren’t contaminated; she knew it. The mice hadn’t had the chance to mess with the food. But Marybeth already had it planned. She’d probably announce later in the evening, after her guests had sampled Sticky Sweet’s goods, that there’d been an ‘unfortunate’ problem with the cupcakes. She’d pretend to get sick, drop a few hints at mouse poop, and everyone who’d eaten one would get sick too— thanks to the subliminal messaging of course.
Bye, bye Sticky Sweet, was right. She’d be ruined.
Allie watched with disdain as people enjoyed her food. Why? Why would Marybeth do this to her?
“Allie.”
Her heart sank at the familiar gravel of Blake’s voice. She put a palm out to divert him as he approached and turned away.
“Not now, Blake.”
“Yes, now.”
God, he was so much like MB with his fake smile and self-confidence, as if he could do anything and get away with it. He offered her his arm, thrusting it at her with purpose that said he wouldn’t be denied.
“I’d like to show you the grounds. I know how much you love gardens but never had time to make one of your own.”
She recoiled from him, quickly glancing around to see if anyone was noticing them. “No thanks.”
Blake grabbed her hand and placed it on his arm, closing his fingers over hers so she couldn’t pull away. “I insist.”
A couple looked at them and Allie was very aware they were being watched. Breathing through her nose, she clenched her jaw and allowed Blake to escort her out of the tent. She barely noticed the colorful flowers or curated, circular pattern. Blake’s scent assaulted her, making her stomach churn. He made small talk about the garden, and his hurried pace suggested he wasn’t a bit interested in a slow perusal. Her heart skipped in warning as he led her across the lawn toward the tree line. They passed other couples who were wandering around, and that gave her some comfort. Blake’s hand tightened over hers, making her fingers hurt from the pressure.
“Ouch, Blake!”
She tried to pry him off, but he pulled her into the trees. Daylight was receding, leaving behind a dark lavender haze. Allie pulled back away from him, her shoulder popping with the stunted effort. In a flash, Blake spun her and pushed her back into a tree.
