Sisters by Choice (Blackberry Island #4)(16)

In the summer, when the tourists swarmed the island, she baked all week long. She was always throwing in batches between running the boys around and taking care of things at home. While she could freeze her cookies, she only did that during the super-busy times. The cookies were better fresh and that meant something to her. During the rest of the year, she could get by with a single night of baking. It was hard on her, but it made for an easier week.

Oh, to have an industrial-size oven or two, she thought wistfully. One that could bake a few dozen cookies at a time. And a rolling tray of cooling racks. She’d researched all of it but even if she could justify the cost—which she couldn’t—she had nowhere to put any of it. But the idea of real ovens was thrilling. She wouldn’t have to stay up all night baking for the weekend customers. She wouldn’t spend every Friday bone weary. She could—

Before her daydreams carried her too far away, she heard a knock at the back door. Seconds later Ruth, her mother-in-law, walked into the kitchen. She had a huge insulated tote bag in each hand.

“Morning,” Kristine said, hurrying to help her. “That looks heavy.”

“Quiches,” Ruth said with a smile. “The ones with ham and bacon. The boys love them.”

“The boys love everything you make.”

Ruth was an old-school cook. She never worried about things like saturated fat or the “light” version of anything. She’d grown up with the idea that any recipe could be improved or saved by the generous addition of butter.

Both quiches were still warm. Kristine shook her head. “What time did you get up? You know you don’t have to bake for them, Ruth. They’d be happy with scrambled eggs.”

Ruth, a sturdy woman in her late fifties, waved away the comment. “It’s one morning a week. You stay up all night baking. It’s the least I can do.” She glanced at the clock. “We have a few minutes before the madness begins. Did you hear about the Blackberry Island Bakery?”

Kristine poured Ruth a cup of coffee and joined her at the table. Even exhausted by staying up all night, she felt a flicker of excitement at the question.

“I saw the sign,” she admitted. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It could mean a lot. The location is perfect. Have you been inside? I wonder what changes they made.”

The Blackberry Island Bakery had been a local fixture for as long as Kristine could remember. Four years ago Yvette had moved with her family when her husband got an incredible job offer in Paris. The bakery had been sold to someone from Seattle. The quality had gone downhill and the bakery had closed within the first year. After standing empty for about the same amount of time, it had opened again, this time as a café. Once again, poor management and bad food had doomed the venture. The bakery was back on the market, or at least the building was.

“I don’t know,” Kristine said. “I heard the ovens were still there.” Big, beautiful industrial-size ovens that could make her dreams come true.

“You should go look.”

“No. What’s the point? I could never open a bakery. It would be too expensive.”

“It’s a lease, not a buy. If the equipment’s there, what would the costs be? Do you know?”

Kristine did know. She worked up a business plan nearly every year, modifying it to reflect lease payments and various improvements. But she wasn’t going to say that—even to Ruth. Her dream was private.

“There might be room for you to do shipping,” her mother-in-law said. “I know the tourists are always asking if you ship cookies. That would be a different income stream.”

Kristine grinned. “What do you know about income streams?”

“I’ve been doing some reading online. I might not have a fancy education but I know things.”

From overhead came the sound of footsteps.

“Someone’s up,” Kristine said as she stood and stretched. She put the last of the cookies in the box she used to transport them and looked around the kitchen. It was as spotless as it had been when she’d started. She’d washed everything and put it all away. Ruth would get the boys off to school and Kristine would sleep for a couple of hours before starting her day.

“Good luck with the herd,” she said as she headed for the stairs, pausing to let all three boys barrel past her as they yelled, “Nana! Nana! What’s for breakfast?”

She told herself she was lucky—she was surrounded by love and support. A great husband and kids, wonderful in-laws, a mother who offered sage advice and took the kids for two weeks every summer. She was happy. Totally and completely content.

As for the idea of leasing the bakery and starting her own business—that was a silly dream she should just forget about. What she had now was plenty.

  Sophie finished up at the warehouse around five in the afternoon. She wanted to stay longer, but the truth was she needed to get the keys to her rental and get moved in there. She could go back to work in the morning.

The shelving units had been delivered. Bear was getting them put together and in place. The shipping area was also coming along. Orders were piling up so Sophie was spending some of her time getting the boxes filled and sent out. The local job fair was Tuesday, and the employment agency was working on filling the more specialized positions. Considering she’d started with an empty warehouse less than a week ago, things were going great. Not great like they had been, but better than when she’d first arrived.