Page 71 of Stronger Than Blood
“Mick, do you think there’s any of your banana pudding left at the café?” Kalinda asked.
“Um, maybe. Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” I said, realizing I was all up in my head.
“Let’s go over. I want to see your bakery,” Dupris said.
I glanced over, a bit surprised she knew about that. I guess Kalinda must’ve been filling her in on all the gossip from our small town. The bakery had been a big hit. I loved having my own domain to work in. Brenda rarely came into the restaurant nowadays, having handed the reins almost entirely to Essie and me.
There’d been a lot of gossip amongst the townspeople last summer when the changes were happening, and Lord knows I worked my butt off for the Thanksgiving and pre-Christmascrowds, but now that things had calmed down, it was as if I’d been doing it for years.
We walked into the bakery, and I waved at Stevie, the young woman Essie had hired to serve the baked goods when I wasn’t there. I’d made a ton of cookies, extra pies, and cakes for the days I was taking off for the holiday. Unfortunately, at first glance, I knew we’d be sold out by tomorrow.
Still, with the bakery doing as well as it had, and the fact that we were still providing some desserts for the hotel, I was stretched thin. I tried not to think about that, as I was supposed to be showing Dupris around, not worrying about work.
“Do you have snickerdoodles?” Dupris asked as she walked in and headed right toward Stevie.
“We have one left,” she said, reaching in and using tongs—thank goodness she’d finally learned not to use her hands—slipped it into one of the white packets I’d found online.
“On the house,” I said as Stevie went to ring it up.
Dupris bit into the cookie and moaned with pleasure before swallowing and turning toward me. Her eyes glazed like Kalinda’s used to. She winked at me without making a comment, but I knew she had some insight, and now that I knew, I was desperate to know what she’d seen.
“Please give Rory and Kalinda whatever they want, and I’ll take a peanut butter cookie,” I said. “You saw something?” I asked as soon as I sat down.
Dupris chuckled. “Only wonderful things. You do need to hire some help and soon, very soon. You can’t do all this by yourself.” Then she clammed up, not willing to share anything else.
I sighed. I didn’t need a psychic to tell me I needed help. I would be sneaking back to the café early tomorrow morning to restock my coolers. From my quick perusal, I had enough pie to last a couple of days, but most of the cookies were gone. Christmas had fallen on a Tuesday, which meant we had severaldays before the weekend, and I had planned not to return until Friday.
Ugh, I did need help. Sooner rather than later.
Kalinda and Rory joined us. As I always did these days, I snuggled up against my man as we chatted about Dupris’s new business in New Orleans and how she’d been bombarded with clients the moment she set up shop. “The LGBTQ+ community didn’t have any one person they felt good going to, so they’ve become most of my clientele,” she’d said.
“That’s good, though, right?” Rory asked.
“It’s excellent, and… well, I-I think I might have met someone.”
Kalinda immediately looked up from the pecan pie she was eating. “A man?” she asked.
Kalinda shook her head. “No, auntie, you know I’m bisexual. I… well, she’s sorta psychic herself, and we met one night while I was at a local business event.”
We spent the next hour chatting before we all stood to go. “My dear,” Rory said before kissing me, “you’re going to fret over the baking for the rest of the day. Why don’t you go ahead and get your chores done now, and then you don’t have to worry about it.”
I chuckled. “I should probably get back to Granny Ida. I told her I’d help get the decorations put in the attic.”
“She has us to help with all that, and besides, you’ll just spend the entire time fretting.”
“Yes,” I admitted, laughing. “You’re right.”
“Of course I am,” Rory said and turned to leave the restaurant. Dupris hung back a few moments, and when Rory and Kalinda were outside, she pointed toward a man who looked to be homeless, sitting at a table by himself on the restaurant side of the building.
“You should go meet him. I think he might be your new employee.”
“What?” I asked, but Dupris was already walking out the front door. “Ugh, psychics,” I said to myself, but I knew not to ignore such a pointed message from a master of her craft.
I walked up to the table and immediately saw the man was filling out an application. I stood to the side, where I could be inconspicuous as I studied him. He had on a green camo coat. It was worn around every edge. His pants, what I could see of them, were shabby as well. His hair was too long; it looked like he’d needed a haircut a few weeks ago.
Normally, I don’t think I’d have given the guy a second thought, but with Dupris’s intuition, I decided to give him a chance. “So, you are applying for employment?” I asked, startling him. He looked up and nodded.
“Well, may I ask your name and see your application? I’m Mick, the manager of the bakery area, by the way.”
