Page 48 of Working For Her Sweet Treats

I give her none.

“Then I choose the third option,” she says.

Relief moves through me.

“All right. What do you want me to handle first?”

Ava glances toward the pastry boxes. “The display and finished orders need to reach The Foundry without damage. Then the mixer, ingredients for the final cinnamon rolls, and all the clean trays.”

“I’ll call Cole.”

She nods and I take that as permission. It’s a small thing, but I feel it.

Twenty minutes later, Cole arrives with the company truck and one of our apprentices. Kayla sends two Foundry employees with rolling carts. Ava stands in the middle of the bakery directing the entire operation.

She is good at it.

Boxes are grouped by delivery time. Refrigerated items are loaded separately. Every tray is covered and labeled. Loralee manages smaller supplies while informing everyone that the day’s disruption is consistent with “transformational energy.”

No one asks what that means.

I carry the heaviest section of the display toward the door.

Ava follows me. “Tilt it slightly to the left.”

“The doorway is wider on the right.”

“The carved apple is on the left. I don’t want it near the frame.”

I adjust my grip without argument. Cole looks at me as though he has witnessed a rare natural event.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

“Good answer.”

At The Foundry, Ava takes control of the kitchen within minutes. She reorganizes one prep table, checks the ovens,assigns Loralee to labeling, and begins the final cinnamon roll dough.

I stand near the doorway waiting for instructions.

Ava glances over. “Why are you still here?”

“I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

“You to tell me what you need.”

The guarded expression she has worn since last night softens.

“The apple crates,” she says. “Put them beside the mixer.”

I move them.

“Then the cream cheese goes into the lower refrigerator.”

I handle that, too.