Page 78 of Not Your Average Vixen
The tenderness in his voice sent a shiver down her spine, and she exhaled a shaky breath.
Focus!
“Here we go,” she said, swiveling the turntable as Carly applied another thin layer to the bottom tier.
“I’m doing it!” the girl exclaimed just as the door to the bakery flew open.
“Thank goodness, you’re not closed!” a panic-stricken woman cried, pressing her hand to her heart.
“I’m sorry, but the bakery isn’t open. The shop went out of business. We’re only using the space temporarily,” she answered as Carly handed over the spatula.
“Could you use the space temporarily to help the Kringle Cares Foundation?” the distraught woman asked.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what that is?” she answered.
“We work with children with special needs, and today is our holiday celebration. We have dozens of families here to take part in the activities in the town square. This year, with the Cupid Bakery closing, we ordered sugar cookies from another bakery in Denver, but I just learned that they lost our order, and now we don’t have any cookies to share with the families.”
How awful!
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Bridget offered.
“We’re in a bind. It’s not Christmas in Kringle without sugar cookies. What do you say? Can you help us out?” the woman asked, her eyes pleading for assistance.
Could she pull it off?
“How many cookies do you need?” she asked.
“At least twelve dozen sugar cookies—and we need them in less than an hour. The kids look forward to them every year.”
One hundred forty-four cookies in under an hour!
Bridget swallowed past the lump in her throat. “That’s a lot cookies to make in a short amount of time.”
“The children look forward to eating cookies after they go ice skating, and I hate to disappoint them and their families,” the woman added.
Bridget twisted the tie on her apron.
In all honesty, she’d never been totally in charge. There was always a safety net. If something awful came out of Gaston’s bakery, he would have been the one to take the brunt of the criticism. Sure, he would have let her have it, too, but until this moment, the buck had never officially stopped with her.
She glanced around the bakery, calculating exactly what she needed to pull off prepping and baking one hundred and forty-four cookies in less than an hour. Her pulse kicked up. Flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, eggs, butter, milk, vanilla extract. Everything she needed was there.
And instantly, so was the spirit of her grandmother.
What would Grandma Dasher do if she were here?
The answer was clear.
Her parents and grandmother believed in volunteerism and charity. And above all else, extending a helping hand to those in need.
Yes, they would have been proud of how she’d provided for Lori. But had Garrett been right? Had she twisted her situation into an excuse to shy away from her dreams and hide behind the guise of sacrifice?
Was there more to the lowly assistant baker and the girl who’d never pushed past her limits?
It was time to find out.
Bridget lifted her chin. “We can do it. Let your group know that they’ll have their cookies inlessthan an hour.”
The woman clapped her hands. “Thank you! And can you deliver them to the pavilion in the Kringle Square?”
