As promised, Andy returned shortly with an iced cold brew with rice milk, vanilla, almond, cinnamon, and brown sugar. “Here you go, boss. This should go nicely with the tahini chocolate cookies, but I should probably try one to make sure, yeah?”
“Yeah. Me too.” I took the drink and handed him a cookie. “This is exactly what I needed this morning, you are such a gem,” I said, raising the glass in a toast and taking a sip of the creamy cold drink. It settled my stomach and went down so easy that I could have had a dozen.
The mood in the bakeshop was muted even after the entire team had arrived. Jimmy’s murder had cast a pall over all of us and our guests, who had heard rumors of his death. Constant, hushed conversations replaced the normal happy banter of a typical Saturday. It was almost like you could feel the shock and grief reverberating throughout the kitchen and dining room. My team, myself included, moved slower. Customers lingered over egg and ham frittatas and Dutch babies with spiced apples, somberly rehashing last night’s events.
Shortly after opening, I took a tray of strawberry swirl brioche and cardamom buns upstairs and was surprised to find Lance chatting with Andy at the espresso bar. He was dressed in running clothes, but I had never seen Lance so much as jog. Maybe Arlo was encouraging him to train with the SOU softball team.
“You’re making this a habit,” I noted, pointing to the clock. “You better be careful. If we keep spotting you before noon, you’re going to get a reputation for being a morning person.”
Lance knocked back a shot of espresso like it was whiskey. “Darling, do not even start with me. Erase those terrible words from your beautiful lips. If I’m ever deemed a morning person, kill me.” He set his espresso glass on the wood bar. “Hit with me another, Andrew. I need all the caffeine to get through me this ungodly hour.”
“What are you doing here this early?” I asked.
“Duty calls.” He motioned with his head toward the police station across the street. “The Professor asked if we could have a convo about Jimmy.”
“I wonder if that means he learned something new. Or maybe he already received the coroner’s report?”
Lance slugged another shot of espresso. “Your guess is as good as mine, although I don’t think it’s breaking news, because he set up this meeting last night. I assume that he’s in desperate need of my help and insight, which is quite fortunate since Arlo was going to force me to do his morning workout routine with the team.”
“Somehow I don’t think anyone can force you to do anything you’re not into, but I was curious about the attire.” I motioned to his running shorts and warm-up jacket.
“Me sweating? Can you imagine?” Lance shook his head as his smile faded. “Honestly, I am sweating over Jimmy’s death. It’s unfathomable. I barely slept last night, replaying the evening over and over and wondering if I failed to notice a glaring detail and if I’d shared everything of importance with the Professor.”
I was glad he had steered the conversation back to Jimmy’s murder. “Didn’t the Professor take your statement at Uva last night?”
“He did.” Lance set his glass on the bar and gave Andy a half bow, momentarily shifting tone again. “You’ve outdone yourself once again, our local boy wonder barista. I believe that two drinks shall suffice, but I’ll be back if not.”
Andy saluted him. “We’re here to keep you caffeinated.”
“Care to join me until the cavalry arrives?” Lance pointed to an empty booth and then proceed to make his way in that direction like a debutant at a ball. He gracefully glided between tables with a perfect regal posture, his chin lifted just high enough to portray confidence. Every step was deliberate and measured. He extended his hand when greeting other early risers with practiced charm.
It was as if the dining room was his own personal stage.
“Do tell, what have you heard? I’m on pins and needles waiting for more news.” Lance rested his chin on his hands and leaned in, dropping the act once we were seated and no one was paying attention.
“Not much,” I answered truthfully. “You mentioned Sophie last night, but I am curious about Tom.” I went on to explain about the missing cellar key and Tom’s vanishing act.
“Plot twist.” Lance’s eyes sparkled with anticipation while the rest of his body remained composed. “Tom, what a sneaky tomcat.”
“How well do you know him?”
“Not well. He approached me about the possibility of being a part of this new endeavor through none other than the dearly departed.”
“Through Jimmy?” I clarified.
“Yes. Keep up. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover here.” He snapped his fingers and scowled in mock disapproval that I had asked for clarification. “They did a production together in Washington a few years ago. Tom moved to the Rogue Valley recently and had been looking for artistic investment opportunities. He and Jimmy reconnected, and Jimmy introduced him to me. Or that’s the story they fed me.”
“The fact that they knew each other before seems suspicious.”
Lance strummed his fingers on his chin. “I absolutely agree. Something smells fishy, and it’s certainly not the bakeshop.”
I made a face. “I hope not. We don’t have salmon cakes on the menu today.”
Lance wiggled his brows. “What we do have on the menu is a meeting with Ashland’s finest detective. I’ll be sure to butter him up and see if there are any other nuggets I can extract from him. After my tête-à-tête, I think it will be time for you and me to pay a visit to Mr. Rudolph. What do you say?”
“Do you know where to find him?”
“Please.” Lance looked at me with utter exasperation. “It’s me you’re talking to.”
“How could I possibly forget?” I bumped the top of my forehead with my palm.
“Don’t worry, darling. It happens to the best of us.” He patted my hand. “Now, scurry off to the kitchen like a good little mouse, and then we shall go hunting for tomcats.”
“But cats chase mice, not the other way around.”
“Details. Details.” He waved me away. “I’m meeting the cast at Uva around noon for an emergency sesh. If I have time, I’ll come to find you after I’ve had my chat with the Professor. Otherwise let’s regroup later this afternoon. Ta-ta!”
I left him and returned downstairs. So, Jimmy had encouraged Tom to invest in the Fair Verona Players. That was an unexpected piece of news. Money was a powerful motive when it came to murder, though I wasn’t exactly sure how it would factor in here.
“Any word on tonight’s show?” Marty asked, stacking bagged loaves of sourdough and cracked wheat for morning deliveries. His normally jovial expression had a touch of melancholy. “Everyone is upset about the murder. It’s hard to imagine how the show goes on, but then again, I guess that’s the adage.”
“I agree. It’s so surreal.” My stomach lurched at the memory of the pool of blood around Jimmy’s head. I inhaled slowly and forced myself to focus on Marty. “I was just chatting with Lance upstairs. I should have asked him, but it completely slipped my mind.”
“That’s okay. I’m sure you have plenty to think about.” Marty smiled kindly, his rosy cheeks dimpling. “One of our wholesale clients asked if there would be food and drinks at tonight’s performance. I told them I would check with you. I’m assuming you’ll be pouring wine, but we’re not doing a spread like last night for every show, are we?”
“No.” I glanced at the whiteboard. “I put in an order for extra bread, as we’ll prepare some boxed snacks and desserts for purchase if the show goes on tonight, but nothing like last night.”
“That’s what I thought. Thanks for the confirmation. I’ll let them know.” Marty continued packaging the bread.
I went through the menu for Uva. In theory, The Taming of the Shrew was due to run for the next three weekends with shows on Friday and Saturday evenings and a Sunday matinee. Our summer vineyard staff and volunteers would pour wine and sell premade Torte treat boxes, like a sweet dessert option with chocolate tahini cookies, lemon tarts, assorted macarons, and savory small-bite boxes. But there shouldn’t be a need for any additional staffing. We would prepare everything at the bakeshop and deliver it to Uva daily, just like any other wholesale client.
For the snack boxes, we would offer guests three savory options and a dessert box. The first would include a miniature sourdough baguette with a cup of our house-made chicken salad, spiced nuts, and a cherry almond sugar cookie. The second choice was a classic peanut butter and jelly sandwich on our wheat-berry bread, layered with thinly sliced apples and granola. That would come with salted kettle chips and a dark chocolate brownie. The final savory box featured a hummus wrap with pickled veggies and a lemon cupcake. Finally, the dessert boxes would have a rotation of whatever we were baking at Torte.
I got started on the chicken salad while I waited for Lance. I used shredded rotisserie chicken as a base. I finely chopped celery, white onion, green onion, and fresh herbs. I added those to the chicken and creamed in Dijon mustard and mayonnaise. Then I seasoned the mixture with salt and pepper and fresh lemon juice before adding halved red grapes and sliced almonds. The salad would develop in the fridge as the flavors married together.
The peanut butter and jelly and the hummus wraps would be assembled on-site at Uva, but I tasked Sterling with doubling his hummus recipe so that we’d have plenty for the bakeshop and the play.
With that task complete, I turned my attention to our specialty orders. Graduation and wedding cake requests had already started to roll in. I had a feeling that the summer season was going to be particularly busy. Mom and I had talked about hiring a couple more support staff as June approached. Ramiro would be winding down the school year in a few weeks. It had gone by in such a flash, I couldn’t believe it was almost time for him to return home to Spain. And I wasn’t sure either Carlos or I were going to be able to cope with a teen-free house. I had gotten used to stocking the fridge, baking extra batches of cookies for his friends, sitting down to our weekend family board game sessions, and hearing all the details about his school day.
Having Ramiro live with us for the last year had been the best decision ever, and I could already feel my heart beginning to break at the thought of not getting to see him every day.
Bethany delicately added buttercream roses to the top of a two-layer birthday cake. “Jules, do you have a second?”
“For you, always.” I smiled and focused my attention on her work. It was a good distraction. Pre-grieving Ramiro finishing his stint in American high school wasn’t going to serve me well, especially after the emotional roller coaster I’d been on for the last twenty-four hours. “Those are so real that I almost can’t believe it’s frosting.”
Bethany’s dimples creased as she smiled with pride. “Really? Thanks. That’s high praise coming from you.”
“Are you kidding? I can barely keep up with you and Steph these days.” I bent over to examine her work more carefully. Her piping skills were flawless. It had taken me years to perfect my technique, but Bethany was a natural. Her precision and attention to detail showed in her fondant designs and painstakingly delicate piping of rosettes.
“We joke all the time about how we won the pastry lottery getting to have you as a mentor, Jules, so nice try.” Bethany smiled as she switched a nozzle on a piping bag filled with sky blue buttercream.
“Well, aside from our mutual lovefest, what else can I do for you?” I noticed that she had a spot on her workspace for all her tools—spatulas, carving tools, piping tips. Her organization was as impressive as her artistry.
“I wanted to talk about a revamp for the Unbeatable Brownie this summer.” She gnawed on the side of her lip.
“Ooohhh, tell me more.”
Bethany had started her baking career in her tiny home kitchen by preparing and delivering boxes of her delectable brownies. Mom and I had met her at the annual Chocolate Festival many years ago and had fallen head over heels in love with her brownies, her talent, and her infectious positive energy. We had offered her a role at Torte with a small percentage of ownership. It was a decision I never regretted.
We had continued her tradition of offering boxes of dark chocolate and sea salt brownies, cheesecake brownies, and every other flavor combination under the sun. The boxes were popular amongst our regular clientele and tourists. They always sold out, so I was very curious to hear what she had in mind for a revamp.
“The dessert boxes you’re doing for the theater got me thinking that we could offer Torte subscriptions where customers either pick up or get a box of brownies and weekly specials that are exclusive to the boxes every week.” She sucked in a breath. “What do you think?”
“I love it. That’s such a great idea.”
“Okay, cool.” Her freckled cheeks flushed a light shade of red. “Steph and I have some sketches to show you. We’ll put together a couple of sample boxes today and see what you think. If you like them, I can post on our social media and see what kind of response we get.”
“I can’t wait,” I said sincerely. I loved that my staff was empowered to come up with ideas, and I also loved that Bethany (and the rest of the team) was constantly thinking out of the box when it came to the bakeshop and trends. In this case, I guess technically speaking, she was thinking in the box.
Sterling and I then talked through lunch specials and everything else needed for Uva. “How are you holding up, Jules?” His steel eyes felt like they were piercing through my soul.
“I’m okay. I’ve been better, honestly, but you know, it’s good to be here, doing something.” I leafed through the wedding cake orders for next week. “And there’s certainly plenty to do.”
He tilted his head to one side and nodded, but I could tell from the way he tightened his lips that he didn’t agree. “You don’t always have to be okay. You’re human. You’ve just been through a major ordeal, and you spend an inordinate amount of time worrying and caring about all of us. What would it feel like to give that back to yourself?”
I gulped. How did he always know the right thing to say?
Sterling had become like a brother, and his words cut through me, piercing my already tender heart.
“Fair point,” I managed to say, willing myself not to cry. “Thanks for checking in. I promise I’m working on taking care of myself.”
He gave me a one-sided smile. “I’m going to hold you to that, Jules.”
“Deal.” I could tell he was letting me off the hook for the moment. It seemed to be a recurring theme. The universe was sending me loud and clear messages about my need to focus on self-care.
Sterling returned to the stove. Marty left for bread deliveries, and Bethany and Steph were in the decorating zone, so I wandered back upstairs to see if by chance Lance and the Professor were still meeting. It was a longshot. Neither of them was still at Torte.
Rosa passed by me with a plate of egg and avocado toast. “Jules, Lance asked me to tell you that he was urgently needed at Uva and could you please meet him there as soon as you have a minute.”
“He’s at Uva already?” It was shortly after eleven. Lance had mentioned meeting the cast at noon, but there was no reason I needed to be there for that.
She repositioned the tray and made room for a couple of teenagers waiting for their hot chocolate orders to squeeze by us. “That’s what he said. He didn’t have time to find you but stopped me to make sure that I relayed the message. I was about to come downstairs after I dropped off this order.”
“Thanks for letting me know.”
She lifted the tray and headed toward a table of eager diners.
I stared out the front windows to the plaza. What was Lance doing at Uva? The vineyard wouldn’t open for tasting for another hour. A group huddled in front of the Lithia bubblers with their phones in hand, ready to record friends taking a sip of the healing waters. It was a daily tradition to watch unsuspecting tourists drink from the sulfuric fountains.
Saturday morning held a leisurely vibe. No one appeared to be in a hurry as they stopped to admire pastel spring floral arrangements at A Rose by Any Other Name next door. There was already a small line at the rafting window where adventure seekers could sign up for a day of whitewater on the Rogue. A family with young children on tiny bikes rode past on their way to Lithia Park.
What had changed with Lance? Why the sudden need to go to Uva? Could it have to do with his conversation with the Professor?
There was one simple way to find out—I would check in with the team to make sure I wasn’t needed and then take the first load of baking and snack box supplies to the vineyard. If Lance was in that much of a hurry, there had to be a good reason, and I had a feeling it was connected to Jimmy’s murder.