Page 14 of Sweet Christmas Comeback
“Leo’s right,” she found herself saying. “We need to know what we’re actually committing to before we agree to anything.”
Leo shot her a surprised look, clearly not expecting support.
Felicity, who had been watching this exchange while hanging a garland, chimed in. “But, Jade, think about it—this could be a huge boost for the bakery. All those people stopping for cocoa and cookies? It’s exactly the kind of exposure you need to let everyone know you are ready to revive the bakery.”
Jade looked at Mabel, who was nodding enthusiastically. “She’s right, dear. It’s the opportunity we’ve been hoping for.”
“That’s settled then!” Mayor Clark declared, clapping his hands together as if the matter had been resolved. “The banners and ads are already made, so you two can work out the details! I knew I could count on you!”
And with that, he whooshed out the door, leaving them all standing in the sudden silence of his wake.
Jade and Leo looked at each other across the bakery, both wearing expressions of dawning horror.
“I have a feeling there’s no way we can get out of this,” Leo said slowly.
“Afraid not,” Mabel said cheerfully, already moving back toward the kitchen. “You know the mayor—once he gets his mind set on something, no one can change it.”
Leo rubbed his forehead with one hand. “The banners are already made. Of course they are.”
Jade sank into one of the café chairs. “What did we just agree to?”
“I don’t think we agreed to anything,” Leo pointed out. “I think we just got steamrolled by Hurricane Clark.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jade stood in front of the temperamental oven at 6 a.m., armed with a new thermostat, a YouTube tutorial queued up on her phone, and what she hoped was enough coffee to see her through the next few hours. Yesterday’s steamrolling by Mayor Clark had left her feeling like she needed to prove something—to herself, to Mabel, and maybe even to Leo Carter.
The oven had been her white whale since arriving in Frost Pine Ridge. It ran fifty degrees hot, which meant everything either burned or had to be carefully monitored and rotated constantly. Mabel had developed a sixth sense about it over the years, but Jade wanted to actually fix the problem rather than just work around it.
She didn’t love the idea of fiddling around with gas connections, but she wasn’t touching anything to do with that. Nevertheless, she’d try to get the gas company to inspect it after she was done. Hopefully, they did that for free.
She’d watched seventeen different repair videos the night before, taken notes, and even found the original manual buried in a kitchen drawer. The thermostat replacement lookedstraightforward enough—disconnect the old one, connect the new one, calibrate the temperature. What could go wrong?
“Famous last words,” she muttered, pulling on her rubber gloves.
The first step was turning off the gas and electrical connections, which she did with the methodical precision of someone who had learned the hard way to check everything twice. The old thermostat came out easily enough, its metal housing corroded and clearly past its prime.
The new one went in just as smoothly, and Jade felt a surge of confidence as she connected the wires exactly as the tutorial demonstrated. When she turned the power back on and set the temperature to three-hundred-fifty degrees, the digital display showed exactly that—no more guessing, no more fifty-degree adjustments.
“Let’s see if you actually mean it,” she said, sliding a tray of test cookies into the oven.
Twenty minutes later, she pulled out perfectly golden sugar cookies, each one evenly baked with no burned edges or pale centers. She bit into one, still warm from the oven, and let out a small whoop of triumph.
“Success?” Mabel asked, emerging from the front of the store where she’d been arranging fresh flowers in a vase.
“Complete success,” Jade announced, holding up the perfect cookie. “Consistent temperature, even baking, no more rotating trays every five minutes.”
“Oh, wonderful!” Mabel clapped her hands together, flour dusting the air around her. “I can finally make my layered cakes again without worrying about them falling in the middle.”
The difference was immediate and noticeable. By mid-morning, the bakery was filled with the rich, even scent of properly baked goods. Mabel’s famous cinnamon rolls came out of the oven perfectly golden, their spiral layers distinct andbeautiful. The coffee cake had a golden-brown top that was neither pale nor charred. Even the bread loaves, which had been Mabel’s daily struggle, emerged with perfect crusts and even crumb.
And the customers noticed.
Mrs. Henderson stopped by for her usual coffee and left with a box of cinnamon rolls, commenting on how incredible they smelled. Mr. Peters brought his granddaughter in after school, and she insisted on two different kinds of cookies because “they look too good to choose just one.” The teenagers from the high school, who usually just bought sodas from the vending machine outside, actually came in and ordered hot cocoa and brownies still warm from the oven.
By three o’clock, Jade had tallied more sales than the bakery had seen in any single day since she’d arrived. The display case, which had been perpetually half-empty, was nearly sold out. Mabel was humming as she worked, her movements lighter and more energetic than Jade had seen them.
“I think,” Jade said, wiping down the counter and watching another satisfied customer leave with a bag of cookies, “we might actually be turning this around.”
