The Bachelor Baker Read online

  “She asked me to tell you she got sick,” Melissa said. “Sorry.”

  Mrs. Morgan heaved out a sigh, then with a shake of her head went back up the stairs again.

  “I should go talk to Gracie,” Melissa said, turning to Josh. “Tomorrow I’ll be at the farmer’s market, so stop by the bakery on Monday and we can talk more about your proposal.”

  She went out the same door Gracie had flown out of but when she stepped outside, all she saw was the back of Gracie’s car heading down the street.

  Nothing to do here, she thought and turned back to the building to see if Lily needed any help. But when she entered the sanctuary of the church, Lily was gone.

  Melissa paused a moment in the cool quiet of the church.

  Muted light from the simple stained-glass windows ran across the top of the sanctuary, spilling in colored beams onto the wooden pews. The front of the church had an arched opening framing a rough wooden cross. The pulpit stood to one side, a wooden box with a lectern and microphone. A banner with an image of a loaf of bread held by weathered hands graced one wall. The words below the image proclaimed, “I am the Bread of Life.”

  Appropriate, she thought, looking back to the cross at the front of the church, remembering the small one that had hung in the church she had gone to all those years ago.

  As she stood, she heard a still, small voice calling her, inviting her to sit.

  So she did, slipping into the last pew, resting her hands on the top of the bench in front of her. The silence of the building bid her to be still, be silent. To wait.

  She drew in a deep breath, cleansing her mind and soul, then sat back. As she did she saw a Bible resting on the bench beside her and she picked it up.

  It had been years since she had read the Bible. The pastor at the church her grandmother took her to had given her one. Melissa used to read it every night.

  Then it got lost in one of the moves and was never replaced. Melissa had long suspected her mother had thrown it out. She had never supported Melissa’s foray into faith, saying it was for weak people who couldn’t make it on their own.

  Melissa paged through this worn Bible, noting the markings on the pages, the well-thumbed corners. She stopped here and there to read a highlighted piece, wondering what it was about that particular passage that had spoken to the owner of this well-loved Bible. She stopped at one passage that was marked with a bookmark and started reading.

  Then Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”

  The same words as the banner in the front of the church. They settled into a familiar place in her soul, feeding a hunger she knew had been there ever since she had first gone to church with her grandmother.

  “Can I help you?”

  The sudden voice made her jump.

  A tall, slim man stood behind her, the sunshine from the window behind him lighting up the fringe of light reddish-brown hair circling his head. Kind eyes glinted at her from beneath bushy eyebrows. A thick mustache framed his smiling mouth.

  “I’m Hugh Garman, the pastor here. You’re Melissa Sweeney, the lady who runs the bakery.”

  “Guilty as charged,” Melissa said, still holding the Bible. “I thought I would come and look...just sit a moment... I know it’s not Sunday. Sorry.” She moved to get up when Pastor Garman held his hand out in a calming motion.

  “Don’t worry. We have had many people stopping in to pray for one thing or another the past few months. It’s been a difficult time for our community.”

  “I understand that.” Melissa thought of Brian being laid off from the factory and being forced to work in the bakery. She wondered what adjustments other people had had to make.

  “I hope you do,” Pastor Garman said. “I know we can’t expect a sudden turnaround in our town’s fortunes, but the fact that someone was willing to put money into your business gives us some hope.”

  Melissa felt it again. The steady burden she and her fellow new shopkeepers carried. The expectation that their businesses would make a difference. What it if wasn’t enough?

  “I hope what I’m doing helps,” she said with a wry smile. Then she looked down at the book she still clutched in her hands and held it out to him. “I found this Bible.”

  Pastor Garman smiled. “That would be mine. I came back to get it.”

  “I was just reading the piece about how Jesus says He is the bread of life,” Melissa said. “It kind of spoke to me.”

  “I guess, as a baker, it would,” he said, his deepening smile creating wrinkles around the corners of his friendly eyes. “It’s the passage for my sermon this Sunday.”

  “The same as the one on the banner,” Melissa said, waving her hand in the direction of the front of the church.

  “That was the point.”

  She smiled.

  “You’re welcome to join us on Sunday,” Pastor Garman said, taking the Bible and holding it close. “We’re having a picnic afterward. The Dills are providing pizza and snacks. The picnic would be a good way to meet some other people in the community.” He gave her a knowing smile. “Maybe ease some of the resistance people might have to your being here.”

  “I don’t think boosting my business would be the right reason to come to church.”

  Pastor Garman’s smile remained steady as his eyes held hers. “Then come for another reason. Come for the food.”

  Melissa was taken aback at his reply.

  Pastor Garman gestured to the banner at the front of the church. “More than one way to be nourished this Sunday,” he said.

  Melissa couldn’t help but smile at his double meaning. “I’ll think about it.”

  Then, to her surprise, he reached over and pulled a Bible out of the pew and gave it to her. “Why don’t you start with this?” he said. “Look at it as preparation for your visit on Sunday if it makes you feel better.”

  Melissa took the Bible, touched at his consideration. She looked at the book, then back at him. “Thanks for this.”

  “Just promise to read it and to put your trust in God for your life, okay?”

  Melissa nodded even as her inner voice warned her that trust was a precious commodity. She had trusted her parents to take care of her, and her father, until she was five, but they packed her all over the country. Her mother, after her father left, carried on in the same tradition.

  And after Jason hurt her she had learned to be careful with her trust.

  * * *

  Brian swept the last of the crumbs from the floor around the bread slicer onto the dustpan and dumped them into the bin. Amanda was gone for the day and Melissa was washing up the last mixing bowl. It was only the two of them working in the quiet of the bakery, the only sounds the swish of water in the sink and the hum of the refrigerator. Tomorrow was Sunday and Brian was looking forward to a day off.

  Brian had come again this morning to help Melissa. This was the third time, and he was figuring out what to do. Though his head buzzed with weariness, working with Melissa all day held a curious appeal.

  Although before he had been reluctant to work in the bakery, he had admired Melissa. Now that admiration was morphing into something deeper. Stronger. It scared him because, despite his changing feelings for her, nothing else in his life had changed. He was as far away from his goal as he ever had been.

  He was still Melissa’s employee, and the dream of being his own boss was a shimmering mirage.

  “How are you feeling now?” he asked, concerned at the flush that still tinged her cheeks.

  “I feel better. Thanks for asking.”

  “Hey, gotta take care of the boss,” he said, her sincere smile doing interesting things to his heart.

  As he tugged his apron off, he watched Melissa wipe down the cou
nter. Then she turned to him and again it was as if awareness blossomed between them, heightening the moment, creating a surprising tension.

  A knock on the back door broke into the moment. Brian poked his thumb over his shoulder. “Sorry. My grandfather. He needed to use my truck today, so he’s picking me up.”

  But before he could go to the back, the door opened and his grandfather came inside. His bright blue eyes darted over the bakery, then came to rest on Melissa.

  “Well, hello again, Miss Sweeney. I trust your oven is working okay.”

  Brian inwardly cringed at the sight of his grandfather. Ever since Grandpa had seen Melissa, he’d been bugging Brian to have her over, reminding him that the poor girl was all alone in Bygones and could use the company.

  “It’s working fine,” Melissa said, cutting a self-conscious look Brian’s way as if remembering what she had said then.

  “And how’s Brian been working for you?” Grandpa continued.

  “Grandpa, I think we should get going,” Brian cut in. “Miss Sweeney is tired.”

  “Well, then I don’t imagine you have much energy for making supper,” he said, rubbing his thin hands together as if making plans.

  Brian wanted to hustle his grandfather out of the bakery, sensing exactly where he was headed.

  “I was going to get something from The Everything,” Melissa said.

  “That’s crazy talk,” Grandpa said with a quick frown. He poked a bony finger in Brian’s chest. “Can’t have that poor young girl heading home with some sloppy old pizza from the Dills, can we?”

  “The Dills’ pizza is pretty good,” Brian said, shooting a warning frown his grandfather’s way.

  But Grandpa’s tunnel vision was in full effect today and he looked back at Melissa. “Why don’t you come and join us?” he said. “I’ve got pork tenderloin, fresh green beans from the community garden and spinach salad.”

  “I wouldn’t want to impose on your time with your grandson,” Melissa murmured.

  Brian guessed she felt as awkward as he did.

  “Nonsense,” his grandfather blustered. “I get more than enough time with Brian. Too much time, in fact. It would be lovely to have the company of a pretty young woman at the house.”

  “You’re starting to sound like Dale Eversleigh,” Brian warned.

  “That old bounder? Not a chance. I have more class than that,” his grandfather protested, still not making eye contact with Brian. He walked over to Melissa’s side and caught her by the arm. “You come. Join us. I’ll feel insulted if you don’t.”

  Brian sensed her hesitation and guessed it had more to do with spending time with him than it did with imposing on his time with his grandfather.

  Then, to his surprise, she said, “Okay. I’d love to.”

  “That’s excellent,” Grandpa said, shooting Brian a triumphant look. “Isn’t that excellent, grandson?”

  Brian gave his grandfather a wan smile. He wasn’t sure how excellent it was. He was certain that spending time with Melissa at his house would make it harder to be around her at the bakery.

  His grandfather waved his hand toward the back door. “Follow us in your car. We won’t lead you wrong.”

  Brian shot Melissa one more look, trying to gauge her reaction to his grandfather’s goading.

  Her mouth was curved in a light smile, as if the thought of eating supper with someone else was appealing to her.

  Trouble was, it was appealing to him, too.

  Too much so.

  Chapter Nine

  “I’m reading from a passage in Romans,” Jack Montclair said, his white head bent over the Bible in front of him. He looked up at Melissa and smiled. “It’s one of my favorite books in the Bible written by Paul, who, at one time, persecuted the church. The book of Romans lays out some of the great truths of faith and what God does for us.”

  “It’s not Sunday, Grandpa,” Brian said with a nervous laugh. “Melissa doesn’t need a sermon.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind at all,” Melissa said. “I’d like to find out more about what the Bible teaches.”

  She was surprised when, after the meal, Brian got up and, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, pulled a Bible out of a drawer and placed it on the table in front of his grandfather.

  He had glanced her way, asking her if she minded. She shook her head, touched he had considered her feelings and, at the same time, admiring Brian’s basic faith.

  Brian held her gaze, then a gentle smile softened his strong features and she felt her heart quicken in response. For what seemed like the fiftieth time, she wondered what she had been thinking when she had accepted Jack’s invitation to come for supper.

  The appeal of spending more time with Brian in a place that wasn’t the bakery had been a factor. But now that she was here, she felt self-conscious. Far too aware of the changing feelings between them, feelings she wasn’t sure she dared indulge in.

  “This is where we left off,” Grandpa continued. He paused a moment, as if preparing himself. “If you declare with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified and it is with your mouth that you profess your faith and are saved.”

  The words teased up a memory of her grandmother sitting beside her on the bed. They would read together from the Bible, quietly so Melissa’s mother, who slept in the room next door, couldn’t hear.

  Melissa remembered the feeling of trust she felt, the feeling of being surrounded by love, when she told her grandmother that yes, she did believe this.

  Those feelings of vulnerability returned now as she listened to Jack reading from his Bible. She needed faith. She couldn’t live her life completely on her own. The thought was so opposite of what her mother taught her that she felt an automatic resistance.

  But she had lived her life on her own the past few years and she hadn’t liked it. She yearned for those moments she had shared with her grandmother. Yearned for the peace God could give her.

  Jack finished reading, closed the Bible and prayed. And as he prayed, Melissa felt a sense of comfort and strength. A sense that she wasn’t alone.

  When Jack was done, she waited a moment, her head still bent, and blinked away unexpected moisture from her eyes.

  “Are you okay?” Brian asked, reaching across the table and covering her hand with his.

  She swallowed, her heart fluttering at the warmth and unexpectedness of his touch. Then she looked up at him and nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  His eyes locked on her as if trying to decipher what she was saying, then he gently squeezed her hand and nodded. “That’s good.”

  She held his earnest gaze and for a moment she also yearned for someone to be beside her. For a partner in her life. Someone she could lean on.

  Brian?

  She shook the feeling off. She had her plans in place and she couldn’t let Brian distract her. The bakery was her focus and she had to remember that she was the only one who cared about it.

  So she pulled her hand back and got to her feet.

  “Now because I made supper, I get out of doing the dishes,” Jack announced with glee as he also stood.

  “Of course you do,” Melissa said, giving him a quick smile. “I just want to tell you how much I appreciated eating a home-cooked meal. I seldom cook for myself.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m baker, not a cook,” Melissa said with a self-conscious smile as she started cleaning up.

  “No. Stop,” Brian protested, taking the plates from her as their fingers brushed. “You should go home. Get some rest.”

  “I’m not that tired,” she said, pulling her hand back so quickly she almost dropped a plate. “I can surely help with
the dishes. Pay for my supper that way.”

  Brian looked like he was about to protest again when Jack clapped him on the shoulder. “You don’t want to argue with that one,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “Looks to me like she’s the kind of woman who always gets her way.” He winked at Melissa, then walked through the doorway into the living room beyond and dropped into a large easy chair.

  Brian shrugged. “Suit yourself, but you need to know there’s no dishwasher.”

  “Then I guess we’ll have to wash the dishes by hand,” she said, realizing what she’d gotten herself into.

  Doing dishes with Brian.

  Though they spent a lot of time at the bakery together, somehow, doing dishes in his kitchen created a different ambience than working in the bakery.

  The bakery was her territory.

  This was his, she thought as she stepped into the kitchen.

  She looked around and a sense of home and comfort enveloped her like a gentle hug.

  The cupboards flanking two walls were painted in chartreuse and had ceramic knobs in the shape of yellow flowers. The countertop was a soft caramel granite. A large window with a deep ledge holding a number of plants sat above the double sink, illuminating the room with soft evening light.

  “What a charming kitchen,” Melissa said, setting the plates by the sink. Then she noticed the stove built into a bricked-in alcove. Six burners. Gas. Stainless steel. Large oven.

  A baker’s dream.

  “What a beautiful stove,” she exclaimed, walking toward it, running her hand over the front of it and noticing an extra faucet built into the wall above the stove. How convenient.

  “Kind of wasted on me,” Brian said as he scraped the leftovers from the plates into the sink. “My appliance of choice is the microwave. Grandpa likes cooking, though, so he appreciates it.”

  Melissa turned, taking in the rest of the kitchen. Stainless steel refrigerator with two doors and beside it the frosted glass doors of a walk-in pantry. “This kitchen is amazing.”