Of Literature & Kisses (Forbidden Romance)

Chapter 19 - Baking 101

I woke up on Saturday with the urge to get in the kitchen and make something new, from scratch, and with my hands. I went to my book-bag and flipped through my literature notebook where I had kept the sticky note Mr. Gallagher had given to me in class. After using the restroom and drinking a cup of coffee, I dressed casually in jeans and a soft pink cardigan, putting over-top a thick black coat to shield me from the biting autumn air. As always I had arisen early and no one in the house was awake. I took advantage of that to write a note for Chad on the kitchen counter, saying I had taken the car for a few hours, and took the key into my hand for the first time in weeks.

The phone said it would be a twenty-five-minute drive to the bakery, but I knew that would probably equal about forty for me. I drove cautiously and a little too slowly, careful not to miss any ramp on the highway. Just as I was rounding the residential corners towards the bakery I started to hesitate, the nerves engulfing me. What if she had forgotten that she had invited me to the bakery? It had been weeks, possibly over a month. Would it seem strange for me to visit, for her, or for Mr. Gallagher?

I hopped out of the car, concluding that they both had invited me, so it mustn't have been a problem to either of them. I pushed back my hair and repositioned my glasses, cursing myself as I started to wonder why I was so nervous or worried; why this trip to the bakery suddenly mattered so much to me.

It was a perfectly cute establishment sitting next to a pizza parlor and at the corner of the street, which was also lined by various lovely and well-kept shops, restaurants, and autumn-lit trees. The bakery's theme was of white and baby pink, a color that almost exactly matched my outfit. Hanna's son had made sure to buy his mother the best little bakery he could in the suburbs of Boston.

I walked inside slowly, my eyes instantly meeting the clerk behind the counter as she tended to a steady line of customers for whom she also packed the cupcakes and assorted pastries of their choice. I waited at the end of the line for customers to be served, some of them occupying the few pink tables by the large glass window at the front of the shop.

It was my turn now, and I didn't know whether to buy a raspberry tart and leave, or do what I came here for.

"Hi, I'm Celia. I was wondering if I could speak to Hanna?"

"Sure. I'll just be a moment," she smiled and quickly slipped through the door behind her, which I knew led to the kitchen. She was probably so busy. Her bakery was clearly successful and it was a beautiful Saturday morning, hungry pedestrians coming inside at any moment when the bakery's heavenly sugared scents carried them in its direction.

The petite blonde reappeared and ushered me behind the counter. "Come, come, she wants to see you in the kitchen."

"Thank you," I said to her, and just as quickly she was gone again. I was stunned by the smell of buttered cinnamon at my right and heavy fudge chocolate to my left. Calmly working over a large metal table were Hanna and a man I assumed to be her co-baker.

She looked up at me with an instantaneous smile, very similar to her son's.

"Hi, Cece. So glad you could come!"

"Thanks for having me. Your bakery is beautiful, and the scents of whatever you're making... I'm swooning."

She chuckled, turning around to put a muffin tray into a large, multi-layered oven.

"My son doesn't stop moaning about how amazingly Cece here can bake, Paolo."

Paolo smiled, flipping his highlighted caramel hair with just a twirl of two fingers. "And he's got much to compare to. We're great, you and I."

"I don't doubt it," I smiled, looking at their work and their place with my eagerly jumping eyes.

"Come on," Hanna invited. "We can teach you how to make the buttered cinnamon cupcakes for the last batch. Are you a good decorator?"

"I like to think so, but I keep it simple," I flushed.

"Perfect! So do we. Just a perfect frosting and a detail or two. It's all in simplicity and flavor," Paolo grinned.

And with that we began our crash course in Baking 101.

***

"Celia, I'm going to take my ten minute break and leave Paolo with the bakery. At this time there's usually a break in customers. Join me." She picked up a small white and pink pastry box and two bottles of water before leading us to the back door of the bakery. Upon opening it we were met with air and trees. It was the back lot, a dumpster at the far left and a small pink table with three chairs just beside the door. I assumed they kept it there for the three employees to sit during their breaks.

We sat down and she opened the pastry box. I was met with three varieties of cupcakes and one of my favorites; the raspberry tart.

"I figured you for a raspberry tart kind of girl. I'm usually good at gauging people's taste, since, well, my passion and livelihood depend on it. But please, let me know if I was wrong. I can easily get you anything else. Chocolatey maybe? Banana fosters?"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "No. You were absolutely right. Raspberry tarts are some of my favorites, especially when the jam under the raspberries is just tart enough."

"You have the taste buds of an angel. No point in a raspberry tart if it's too sweet and custardy. So, how'd you like my bakery?"

"I'm in awe. It's wonderful, beautiful. And you all have such a strong work dynamic together. It must be difficult to find."

She nodded affirmatively. "I had to hire three bakers before Paolo until I found my other baking half. A mess until he came."

We started sampling from the pastry box, each dessert a tiny masterpiece in its own right.

"You really love to bake, Cece. I can see it in your eyes."

"I do. It's like therapy, just as my books are. But I love that with baking I get to be a part of it, putting in so much effort and feeling into what I bake. Trying, failing, trying again and finally getting it right. I love it."

"Do you want to be a baker?"

"I actually want to be a literature professor at the university level, but I never want to stop baking."

"Just like my son," she smiled, taking another bite of her cupcake. "He's been a lot happier lately. Ever since it happened two years ago he hadn't been quite the same. I mean, he hides everything well, but I am his mother, you know."

"It?" I repeated quietly.

"Yes. His ex-girlfriend and the way it all culminated..." she paused suddenly, a burst of worry settling in her eyes for a brief moment. "He hasn't told you, and I just went ahead and opened my big mouth as I always do. I'm afraid we should just drop it, since he'll surely tell you when he's ready to. I'm so sorry, hon, I just tend to stop thinking when the words start flowing."

"I-It's okay, Hanna." I softly put down the cupcake, unable to eat anything more. "Mind if I use the restroom before we head back into the bakery?"

"Of course! As soon as you enter, there's an employees restroom to your left."

I walked inside, my movements slow. As soon as I entered the tidy restroom I took notice of the lack of toilet paper in the empty dispenser just beside me. I crouched underneath the sink and opened the doors of the furniture piece, meeting with some cleaning supplies, extra rolls of toilet paper and paper towel, and a few unopened boxes. The boxes caught my attention before I turned away with the single roll I needed, for they said Gallagher Security in capital black letters. After a moment of internal debating, I retrieved the box and opened it, my eyes meeting instantly with hundreds of business cards stacked neatly on top of the other, color scheme white and gray. Gallagher Security Systems. Boston, MA. Call CEO & Founder Jamie Gallagher, followed by the company's address and phone number.

My heart started to beat even more ferociously than it had been since Hanna's mistaken revelation. I put two cards away into my coat pocket and returned the box before standing. A sudden need to go home and hide away overtook me, but I convinced myself to stay a few hours more.

Outside of the restroom, I looked up at the roof. Surely enough there peered at me a camera just over the door. If everything had seemed complicated and difficult before, today only made it more so.