Page 9 of Sweet Christmas Comeback
“I started a small electrical fire.”
“Details.” Mabel patted her shoulder with floury hands. “You know, dear, there’s no shame in accepting help. Especially from a nice young man who clearly knows what he’s doing.”
“I can figure this out myself,” Jade said, pulling up YouTube on her phone again. “I just need better tutorials. Look—’Beginner’s Guide to Home Electrical Work.’ This one has a safety section.”
Mabel watched her scroll through videos with the patient expression of someone who’d raised stubborn children. “Of course, dear. But just remember—pride goeth before a fall. And sometimes before a very expensive electrical fire.”
Jade looked up from her phone, noting the gentle warning in her aunt’s voice. “You think I should let Leo help.”
“I think,” Mabel said carefully, “that you’re trying to save a business you care about, and that’s admirable. But this place has been falling apart for months. It’s going to take more than determination and YouTube to fix everything on this list.”
She gestured at the notepad still clutched in Jade’s hand. “And maybe, just maybe, accepting help isn’t the same as giving up. Maybe it’s just being smart.”
Jade looked at the scorch mark on the wall, then at the gleaming display case, then at the two pages of repairs that still needed doing. The math was inescapable—at her current rate of progress, she’d finish the renovations sometime around Easter. If she didn’t accidentally burn the place down first.
“I’ll think about it,” she said finally.
“Good.” Mabel smiled and headed for the kitchen. “Now, while you’re thinking, how about you watch some baking videos instead? I’ve got a feeling we’re going to need a lot of excellent pastries to make up for this morning’s fireworks show.”
Jade took another look at the long list of everything that still needed fixing. Maybe Mabel was right. Maybe there was a difference between independence and stubbornness.
But first, she was definitely going to watch that electrical safety video. Twice.
CHAPTER FOUR
By late afternoon, Jade had learned several important lessons: electrical work was best left to people who knew which switch controlled what, but scrubbing and cleaning were well within her skill set. She’d spent the hours since Leo’s departure working her way through the bakery with a bucket of soapy water and a determination to make something—anything—look better.
The windows sparkled now, inside and out. The vintage tin ceiling, while still water-stained, no longer carried a coating of grease and dust. She’d reorganized the storage closet, swept behind every piece of equipment, and even managed to tighten the wobbly legs on three of the café tables using nothing more than a screwdriver and stubborn persistence.
Mabel had spent the day doing what she did best—baking. Two batches of chocolate chip, one batch of pumpkin spice and a tray of gingerbread men now filled the newly illuminated display case, their warm scents mixing with the clean smell of Pine-Sol and lemon oil. She’d also put together a batch of hot cocoa, the rich chocolate aroma drifting through the bakery like an invitation.
“I think this might be our busiest day in weeks,” Mabel announced, wiping her hands on her apron as she watched Mrs. Henderson from the hardware store leave with a box of cookies for her book club.
Jade looked up from where she was polishing the espresso machine—a temperamental beast that she hadn’t dared try to repair but could at least make shine. “Really?”
“Really. Six customers since lunch. That’s practically a rush for us lately.” Mabel’s voice held a note of wonder, as if she’d forgotten what it felt like to have people actually want to come into the bakery. “I think it’s the lighting. Makes everything look so much more inviting.”
“And the smell,” Jade added, inhaling the warm sweetness that now filled the space. “Hard to walk past fresh cookies without at least peeking in.”
She surveyed their afternoon’s work with satisfaction. The bakery wasn’t fixed—not by a long shot—but it was clean and bright and smelled like Christmas. It was a start.
The bell over the door chimed, and Jade looked up to see a familiar flash of blonde curls and a bright red coat. Felicity Adams burst through the entrance like a one-woman holiday parade, her arms loaded with paper bags that smelled suspiciously like Chinese takeout.
“Jade Bennett!” Felicity announced, setting the bags down on the nearest table with a dramatic flourish and enveloping Jade in a hug. “I bring sustenance and moral support, in that order of importance.”
She released Jade with a frown, taking in the layer of dust, the streak of window cleaner down her cheek, and the cobwebs tangled in her hair.
“Good lord,” Felicity said, pulling off her bright pink glasses to clean them, as if that might change what she was seeing.“What happened to you? You look like you’ve been wrestling with the building itself.”
“Something like that,” Jade said, suddenly aware of just how disheveled she must appear. “I’ve been... cleaning.”
“Cleaning,” Felicity repeated, taking in the sparkling windows, the gleaming counters, and the faint chemical smell of serious sanitization. “This looks less like cleaning and more like an exorcism. Did you banish the ghost of neglect?”
“We’re working on it,” Mabel said, emerging from the kitchen with a pleased smile. “Jade’s been a whirlwind all day. Though I did have to ban her from any more electrical work after this morning’s excitement.”
“Electrical work?” Felicity’s eyebrows shot up. “Please tell me you didn’t try to rewire something based on a YouTube video.”
“Why does everyone assume that?” Jade protested, though her indignation was undermined by the scorch mark still visible on the wall behind her.
