Page 36 of Half Baked

“Sure.”

“When everything happened with their parents, Hayden and Beckett became prisoners in their own home. They were forced to transition to online school and had to quit the lacrosse team. With no other family and no one to trust—considering things—they closed ranks. Hayden even dismissed all the staff.”

My brain works to process what she’s telling me—reconciling it with my memory from the events. “But you were there a lot, right?”

“Yeah, I went to support Beckett. But I was really the only person they let in. Hayden didn’t have anyone.”

I try to ignore the pressure in my chest hearing that. I can’t imagine him being lonely; he always seems so well liked and outgoing.

“A few weeks in, I convinced Beckett to bingeFriends. And Hayden joined us.”

“This is not the direction I expected you to go. I figured it had to do with an ex-girlfriend or something. But I remember that he always seemed fine. I would see him out and about like nothingwas wrong. I swear, he strolled right down these sidewalks so casually.”

Stevie shakes her head. “He was not fine at all. As the oldest, Hayden inherited everything?—”

“Even though he was in high school still?”

“Yep. Technically it’s all his, not Beckett’s. But I think he went in and handed half over when Beck turned eighteen. Anyway, he didn’t just get the estate, he got the company. Which as you know was in the middle of a federal investigation. He had all these hearings and meetings to attend. I know that he would come down to see Mrs. Silberman for help sometimes. I think she’s the only adult he could trust, being his mom’s closest friend. That was probably when you saw him in town.”

My mind is whirling, and there is not enough coffee in the world to help me work through this. We’ve reached the wharf and begin up towards the bakery. I’m running out of time to ask all the questions I have.

“How were they prisoners? Like actually on house arrest legally?”

“No, well… kind of. The federal agents had them on a short leash. But there were the lawyers, the company’s clients, their dad’s associates, reporters, and podcasters. And they all wanted a piece of the high school boys that remained in the wake of everything. It was disgusting.”

“How did I not know any of this?” I gasp.

“I think overall, the town did a really great job of not joining in the gossip. And we were young,” Stevie reasons.

We come to a stop in front of the bakery, and she smiles softly at me. “Thanks for the walk. And just so you know, I don’t think psychological warfare is Hayden’s thing. He’s had to deal with enough of it, and I don’t think he would put someone else through that. Especially you.”

“Especially me?” I call after her as she starts to retreat back down the pier.

“See you later,” she shouts with a wave over her shoulder. Leaving me with more questions than answers, and a jumble of feelings in my chest, I think Stevie was just partaking in her own psychological game.

I step inside my bakery and prop the door open, letting the fresh summer breeze waft inside. As I get to work, the smell from the salty sea mingles with the fresh sweets baking in the oven. It’s the simple pleasures that relax me—and this morning, those simple pleasures are Nana Annette’s scones, blueberry popovers, and rocky road cookies. In this shop, I’ve created my own personal heaven by the sea.

When everything for today’s menu is done, I turn my focus to a test run for episode two’s recipe. I’ve decided on my strawberry and cream croissants. Locating the dough hook and attaching it to my mixer, I ask, “What do you think, plan on doing some more work today?”

I try to flip it on, and nothing happens. No light indicating life. So, I have my answer. With a sigh, I flip it back off and check it over. It’s a useless cause; there’s nothing I can do to make it work. This mixer makes its own decisions.

I try toggling it on and off a few more times to no avail. Looks like I need to rethink my plan for the next episode. Tara had promised an advance before our series airs, and it looks like I’ll be using it to get a new mixer. In the meantime, I need to switch out the croissants for a recipe that doesn’t need this particular piece of equipment.

A buzzer pulls me from my thoughts, my popovers are ready. Withdrawing the tray, I head out to the front and start placing them in the display.

“Hey, Poppy.”

I look up to see Wes stepping through the doorway. “Hi, what brings you by?”

“I’m in charge of food for the meeting this morning, and figured I’d grab some station favorites.”

A snort escapes me. “I know my things aren’teveryone’sfavorites.”

“You’d be surprised. And before you bother arranging them, just give me the rest of those blueberry things you’re holding.”

I laugh, pulling a bakery box out and filling it with popovers. “Anything else?”

“I’ll take a bit of everything.”

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