Flourless to Stop Him (17 page)

“Cool.” His blue eyes had that flat cop look.

I was not going to let him intimidate me. I hurried back into the kitchen, put both pots in the sink, and grabbed the remaining half pot of coffee from the percolator. I took a
deep breath to calm my nerves and pushed through the open door. “I’ve got enough left for two thermoses,” I said with a fake smile plastered on my face.

“Great. I’ve heard you make the best coffee in town.” He took the pot from me and filled his thermos. I chided myself for being wary. The man had done nothing to cause the wariness. “I’ll take those last two bear claws, too,” he said and pointed to the last of the morning pastries.

“Okay, is that for here or to go?” I pulled a wax tissue out of the box and paused.

“To go,” he said and sipped coffee from his thermos. “Chief Blaylock has us all out working the streets. He doesn’t want anyone stranded in this cold.” He paused. “It might have been better if your brother had stayed in jail one more day.”

“I doubt it.” I put the two bear claws in a bag and closed it up. “No innocent man wants to spend time in jail—even in a storm.”

“In a storm like this, he was lucky he got his hearing. If I were the judge I would have postponed it. Your brother has one darn good lawyer.” He pulled out his wallet and handed me a twenty-dollar bill.

I went to the register to give him change, and the power flickered and died. My emergency power lights popped on in the far corner, but the register was toast. “Here,” I said and handed him the twenty back. “Looks like this one’s on me.”

He folded his hand over mine, closing the bill into it. “Keep it. From what I’ve heard, you’re going to need it.”

I fought back the heat of anger. As a redhead my skin showed my every emotion, and I didn’t need this man to see the blotches of anger on my face. The walkie on Strickland’s belt squawked. He let go of my hand and pressed the
SEND
button. “Hi, Sarah, this is Strickland. Power just went out on Main Street.”

I heard her answer but couldn’t make out the words.

“Will do,” he said and picked up his bag and thermos. “I’ve got to go. There’s an accident on First and Central,” he said. “Lock the door behind me. Sarah’s calling KG&E about the power. Do you want me to send someone over to escort you home?”

“No thanks,” I said and sent him a smile. “I’ve got work to do here.”

He had his back to the door as he went to leave in the same manner Sam had. “Not a lot of work can be done without power.”

“Enough work to keep me going,” I said. “Go. Don’t worry about me. I promise not to kill anyone during this storm.”

“I didn’t think you would.”

“Just my brother,” I said and folded my arms across my chest.

“My job is taking murderers off the street.”

“Yes, well, Tim is innocent, so you haven’t done your job.”

“We’ll let a court of law decide that,” he said and tipped his hat. “Take care, now.”

The case would never get to a court of law. Not if I had anything to say about it.

W
ithout power, the baked goods in the fridge would be lost if it didn’t come back on in an hour or so. The freezer was good for up to forty-eight hours as long as I didn’t open it. The back kitchen was pitch-black, with only the peephole in the door for light.

I pulled a box over and propped open the door to the front. The sound of the howling wind was much louder without the hum of the fridge and freezer. My radio was also out. I had a flashlight and batteries somewhere in my office. What I needed was a light to get back there and find my flashlight.

Noting the time on the battery-run clock on the wall, I had less than two hours to either get power back or discard everything I’d been working on today. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. A single-day buy-one-get-one-half-off special on baked goods was one thing. I peered into the dark kitchen. Without power I could lose a week’s worth of work. I tried not to think about disaster. Instead I concentrated on
the positive. With the cold storm outside I could always put the dough in the van. As long as it didn’t get above thirty-two degrees in there, the food would be fine. Right?

A knock on the front door startled me. I might have shrieked a little. I turned around to see Sam at the door with a large cooler in his hands. He motioned with his head for me to let him in.

I rushed across the floor and unlocked the door. He blew in with the wind and stinging icy snow. “You’re back.” I know it wasn’t the brightest thing to say, but my heart still pounded from his knock.

“I was headed home when I saw the power’s out all across Main Street,” he said and set down the cooler. “The automated message at KG&E says they know about the power outage and it will be back on line the moment the storm is over.”

I winced. “That will be too late.” I hugged my waist and tried not to despair.

“I knew you were working really hard in here and I was afraid the power outage would mess with your baking. My aunt Mary was a food inspector. She drilled into our heads what the time limits were to keep food safe.” He put the cooler down, then took off his hat and gloves and set them on the closest table. “I knew there was a cooler in the back of my truck. So I stopped back by in hopes I could help. I know it’s not freezer-sized, but it’s something.”

“What about your gram?”

“I already brought her the stuff. She’s good.” He studied me. “Was I wrong to come back and offer the cooler?”

“Cooler?” It dawned on me what he was saying. A cooler would be best for transporting dough. “Oh! Thank you!” I hugged him. “I hadn’t had a chance to form a plan about what to do with the power out. I was thinking about putting everything in the van somehow.”

He smiled at my assault and hugged me back. “If I’d have
known I would get this reaction, I would have brought you a cooler sooner.”

“Oh.” I stepped back and clasped my hands. “Large family means you get a little touchy-feely when you’re excited.”

“I’m not complaining,” he said. “But I think we should figure out what needs to happen to save your dough.”

“Literally,” I said and glanced at the black hole that was the open door to the back kitchen. “You wouldn’t happen to have a flashlight on you, would you?”

He dropped his chin and gave me the
duh
look. Then he reached into his coat and brought out a large handyman-special flashlight. “As a part-time handyman I always have one for emergencies.” He flipped on the switch and handed me the light.

“Wonderful. Follow me.”

He lifted the cooler, which, while large, would still hold only a portion of my baked goods. Still, some was better than none. I led him into the back kitchen.

“You can put it down right there.” I pointed with the light at the floor in front of the refrigerator. “The freezer should keep its temperature longer.”

He set it down and straightened. His eyes glittered in the low light. “Is the fridge full? Because if it is, I don’t think this cooler will do much to help.”

I blew out a breath. “Yeah, it’s full. But there’s a cooler in my office as well. I use it for transporting cream pies. Hold on and I’ll go get it.” I turned the flashlight toward my office and hurried over.

“It’s pretty darn dark,” he called after me.

I flashed the light back into his face without a thought. He shielded his face with his hand.

“Oops, sorry,” I said as I moved the light to the floor. “Yes, it’s dark. I also have candles, batteries, and a flashlight in my office. Hold on.”

I stepped into the small utility closet that passed for my
office. The cot was folded and stuffed in the back corner. Against the far wall was a set of shelves. On the bottom shelf was a large cooler. I had to push the cot out into the kitchen to make room so that I could pull out my cooler. I stuffed the large flashlight under my arm as I went through my drawers. In the far back I found my flashlight. It weighed nothing, which meant I hadn’t gotten around to putting batteries in it.

Reaching back through the drawer, I found C batteries, candles, and a small, pistol-shaped lighter I had taken away from Grandma. Hands full, flashlight still tucked under my arm, I glanced at the cooler. It would be best to light up the place first, then drag out the cooler.

“Hello, are you taking a nap back there?” Sam asked. “It’s dark out here.” I heard him try to walk toward me and run into the corner of the counter. He muttered something dark under his breath.

“I’m coming,” I called back.

The light caught him right in the eyes for the second time as I moved into the kitchen. He shielded his eyes and muttered another curse.

“Oh no, sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” I adjusted my full hands and the flashlight slipped out from under my arm, bounced on the tile and then back up to knock against his shin.

“Ow!” Sam grabbed his shin and hopped around. The flashlight rolled under him, flashing light around the room like a strobe light on speed.

“Watch—”

He hopped onto the flashlight and went, arms and legs flailing, to the floor. I dropped everything as I tried to catch him. How I thought I could catch him or help in any matter was impossible to know. My flashlight went bouncing off with his flashlight. The package of batteries landed with a hard
thud
on the floor, followed by the handful of scented
candles and Grandma’s pistol lighter, which landed in his lap.

“I’m so sorry.” I knelt down and went to pick up the pistol but thought better of it. “Are you okay?”

“No good deed goes unpunished,” he muttered and held his hands up, palms toward me. “I’m fine.”

“I’m—”

“Sorry, I know. I doubt anything is broken, but more than my pride might be bruised tomorrow.” He sat up and snagged his flashlight, which had rolled to the kick step of the counter.

“Watch your head,” I said and put my hands on his shoulder.

He froze inches from the sharp corner of the countertop. “What?”

“Sharp edge,” I said, leaned over and put my hand on the corner.

“Thanks,” he said and moved away from me with the flashlight in his hand.

“It’s the least I could do, considering.” I crawled on my hands and knees and picked up my flashlight and the batteries. Then I sat down and ripped open the package.

“What are you doing?” he asked and put me in the spotlight of his flashlight.

I blinked at the intensity of it. “Putting batteries in my flashlight so we can both see.”

“Let me do that.” He held out his hand.

“Thanks.” I gave him the flashlight and the batteries. He stood at the counter and filled my flashlight, tested it, and then handed it to me as I got up.

“It sounded like you dropped a lot of stuff.” He directed his light around the floor.

“Just candles and Grandma’s gun thingy.” I reached over and picked up the lighter.

He grabbed my forearm. “Don’t point that thing at anyone.”

“I won’t,” I reassured him. “Besides, it’s a lighter. See?” I pointed it away from us both and hit the trigger. A flash of light and flame shot out the end. “I took it from Grandma Ruth when she was trying to quit smoking.”

“Did she quit?” he asked.

“No”—I shrugged—“but, hey, I got a cool lighter.” I picked up the candles and arranged them on plates on the countertop. Then I lit them one by one and set them around the room until we stood in an eerie twilight.

The storm raged on outside, rattling the door and pelting the siding. The sound reminded me of the time we had a blizzard in Chicago and my apartment was assaulted by blowing tree branches.

“I have an idea,” he said. “Do you have any areas in the bakery that aren’t heated? My gram used to put things out on her back porch when the temperature was below freezing.”

I drew my eyebrows into a deep V. “Besides putting it in the van, I don’t have a porch or a shed. At least, not here. Do you know if the power is on elsewhere? Maybe we can transport this stuff to the homestead and I can store it there.”

“I’m not certain. Is anyone at your house? You can call and see. It’s worth a try, right?” He shrugged.

“Right. I’ll see if Tasha is home.” I pulled out my cell phone and dialed.

“Hello?” Mindy picked up.

“Hi, Mindy, it’s Toni. Do you have power at the house?”

“Yes, why?”

“The power’s out here at the bakery. I was thinking about filling the van and bringing stuff home.”

“Oh, right. Okay. Do you need me to do anything?”

“No, we’re good.”

“We?”

“My friend Sam stopped by to help when he heard the power was out.”

“I see,” Mindy said. “Can he drive in the storm?”

I glanced at Sam. He leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. “He’s got a nice truck.”

“Then don’t be a fool. Bring the stuff here.”

“Right.” I hung up and looked at Sam. “The power’s on at the house. My fridge isn’t big enough to hold everything I need, but we do have a porch and it’s cold enough to store anything.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He opened the larger refrigerator. “Wow, you stuffed this appliance.” He ran the flashlight up and down, looking at the bowls of bread dough and cooling cakes and piecrusts.

“Baked goods are in high demand during the holidays,” I said and opened his cooler. My flashlight showed me that the cooler was clean. I grabbed a dish towel and gave the interior a wipe-down. After all, it had been in his truck for an unknown amount of time.

“I’m pretty sure this cooler will only hold half a shelf of what you have here. What else do you have to carry stuff in?”

“I have a cooler, too, and a few boxes. I’m pretty sure it’s cold enough out that we won’t have to worry about things getting too hot.”

Sam laughed at that. “Heat is not the first thing I would have worried about, unless we’re talking about how hot you are in your baker’s uniform.”

I blushed. “Stop it!” I turned on my heel and ducked back into the office to drag out a handful of boxes and the second cooler.

“I mean it,” he said when I came out of the office.

“You’re distracting me,” I admonished him. “I have to figure out what I’m doing about all the orders I have in the works. The freezer is made to stay cold for upward of forty-eight hours. Do you think the power will be back on by
then?” I triaged the things inside the refrigerator. Several bowls of bread dough filled Sam’s cooler and mine. Eggs, butter, and milk, along with almond milk, filled two boxes. Cookie dough came next, along with buttercream frosting. When those were full, I went back into my office and pulled out two more boxes that had held baking supplies. “I’m pretty sure this will take care of all the things in the fridge.”

“You should think about a backup generator,” Sam said. “The power is pretty stable here, but . . .” He closed the lids on the stuffed coolers.

“I know,” I said, trying not to think of the money that would be lost should the freezer get to room temperature. “I just don’t have the cash flow yet. It’s on my list for next year.”

“You’re lucky the power loss was in the middle of a winter storm,” Sam said as he lifted the two coolers at once. “It should stay cold enough in here. Come on, let’s get these in the back of my truck. The sooner you get home, the better.”

“Right, okay.” I bent to lift one of the boxes and realized it was heavier than I thought. Sigh. Another reason to go to the gym. I mentally added a gym membership to my New Year’s resolutions.

“I’ll come back for it if you can’t lift it,” he said and lifted the plastic coolers as if they weighed a few pounds, which I knew they didn’t.

“I can get this,” I said and grunted as I struggled with the box. I unlocked the front door. The wind rushed in howling and attacking with icy needles. Sam’s pickup was parked directly in front of the bakery with the hazard lights on.

I let him go in front of me. The wind whipped around us and I realized that Sam had his coat on and I’d left mine in the bakery. He set the coolers in the back of his truck, grabbed the box from me, and motioned for me to go inside. I was smart enough to do what he suggested.

Once inside I rubbed my forearms as a shiver went through me. I’m not sure what I would have done if Sam hadn’t come by. I could have tried to fill the van and drive it home, but it would have been a real struggle. I pushed the next two boxes toward the door as Sam came in and grabbed them.