Keeping Guard Ch. 04

As much as I enjoyed owning my own business the baking was what I had always wanted to do; everything else was just a means to an end.

Before I even realized what I was doing I had all the ingredients for a yellow cake combined in the mixer. As the oven heated I grabbed three round cake pans from the racks and got them ready to fill, scowling at the dust had had settled into the bottom of the smallest.

From there everything continued naturally. I knew all the recipes by heart and was able to whip up a batch of my father's buttercream frosting as if I made it every day. As the cakes baked I colored the frosting, remembering exactly how much I would need to get the color to come out just right. Once the cakes were out of the oven and cooling on the racks I starting filling piping bags with frosting.

As soon as the cakes were cool enough I grabbed my long-neglected leveler and sliced each tier in half, then filled them with the chocolate frosting I normally slathered on cupcakes. By the time I had all the tiers stacked I had completely forgotten that it was the middle of the night or that I seemed to be at a crossroads in my life. All that mattered was this cake.

Before I started decorating I had it all planned out in my mind. Each tier was going to need a different technique, but if I did it right they would all work together to make one complete piece. I finalized the plan in my head and got to work on the crumb coat.

I was smoothing out the icing when I heard the door open behind me. I froze on the spot, my mind racing. Had I remembered to lock the door when I came back inside? It seemed unlikely that anyone would want to break into my bakery a second time, but maybe someone had learned from the last break-in that the middle of the night was a much better time to try.

My fingers tightened around the spatula, and when I heard footsteps coming around the corner I turned, ready to strike.

"Whoa, it's me!" John held up his hands, still holding the key I had given him that very morning.

"What are you doing? Why didn't you say something instead of sneaking up on me, I could have killed you!" It was an overstatement, but I was feeling high strung.

"With a...?" He searched for the right word as he glanced at the tool in my hand.

"Spatula, it's a spatula." I groaned. "You really are the worst baker's assistant ever."

He gave a sheepish grin, but didn't even try to deny it. "I'm mainly in it for the baker."

I slumped onto a stool, but still managed a small smile. I had no idea how long I had been working but the night before was beginning to feel like another lifetime. As I closed my eyes I felt warm hands on my shoulders, and John began kneading the knots in my back the same way he kneaded bread dough.

"Have you been here all night? I figured everyone would have been gone hours ago."

That explained why it felt like I had been up all night: I had. "Just tying up a few loose ends, doing a little thinking."

He looked at the cake. "You're a very productive thinker." My muscles began to relax around his touch and the tension I'd been feeling for days was melting away. He didn't ask about the party, and I would always be grateful for that.

After enjoying the much-needed massage a few minutes longer I looked at the cake and realized there was so much to be done. I picked up the piping bag and got back to work.

"I've really missed being back here, I don't get to do nearly as much baking as I'd like." I started a delicate row of drop lines, using a technique that had taken months of work to learn and several more years to perfect. "I used to work here every summer with my dad, back when the business was mostly cakes. That's all I ever really wanted to do, just be in the kitchen."

I switched to a thinner decorating tip and started an intricate lattice pattern that I'd always loved to make. I was a little rusty and it took longer than it should have, but as my hands remembered the movement it started to come more easily. "My dream was to do what I love, but somehow everything else always got in the way."

John was thoughtful as he watched me. He waited until I stepped back to check my work to say, "Did I ever tell you I was in the Army?"

I looked at him and shook my head, taken completely by surprise. I still knew embarrassingly little about my only employee, though the past few days had been enlightening.

He nodded and continued. "Since I was little, that's all I ever wanted to do. Became an Eagle Scout, ROTC in high school, the whole deal."

"So what happened?" I put the piping bag down and gave him my full attention.

"I joined right after graduation, passed all the tests and flew through basic training. I was back home for a few weeks waiting to get shipped off and I was in a car accident." He winced at the memory. "Broke my sternum."

"It healed perfectly and it's fine now, but that was enough to get me disqualified for service." He continued before I could think of anything to say. "The point is, after I was sent home all I did was mope around the house because I had my whole life planned out and it had all fallen apart and my lifelong dream had completely collapsed."

I nodded. It was becoming clear why he was telling me this story, and that it could be one I desperately needed to hear. "Then what?"

"My dad told me to quit whining and get a new dream," he said with a laugh.

I stared at him.

"I think part of him just wanted to get me out of the house, but he had a point. Nothing ever works out the way we think it will, so the best we can do is keep moving forward."

He stood up and walked around the table, taking a good look at the decorating I'd been doing. "Eventually I ended up at the security company. What I really wanted to do was help people, and it seemed like a decent place to start until something else came up."

After making a full circuit he came to a stop right in front of me. "This is a beautiful cake."

I blushed. "Maybe I'm ready to quit whining and start moving forward too."

A thought crossed my mind, and it felt so obvious I was surprised I hadn't thought of it sooner. "Have you considered being a police officer? The station across the street is looking for good people."

A strange look crossed his face. "Funny you should say that, I think one of the guys has been trying to recruit me."

"Is it something you'd be interested in?" I asked.

He hesitated, then nodded.

I pursed my lips. "In that case I think it's time for your first performance review."

"Oh?" His raised eyebrow made me giggle, but I put my serious face back on before I continued.

"Despite some slight improvement, overall I'd say you're completely hopeless and I don't think a career as a baker's assistant is right for you."

"I see," he said with a solemn nod.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to let you go, consider this your two weeks notice." He began a mock objection but I just raised my hand. "No no, I'm going to be very busy back here reinventing my business and I don't need anyone getting in my way."

"Not even a little bit?" He slipped his arms around my waist as he said it, pulling me close to him.

"Well fine, you can get in my way occasionally."

He seemed satisfied. "Fine, I'll go quietly. On one condition."

I tipped my head back to look into his eyes. "What's that?"

"You keep making donuts," he answered with a smile, "of course."

"Deal."