Page 30 of Finding Home

Julie set her tray down. “That’s a great idea. We could talk about it at our next class.” She’d made two dozen ginger bars that morning, following Susan’s recipe from memory for the first time without checking her notes. The bars were spicier than Susan’s recipe, but just as delicious.

Susan arrived from the direction of the kitchen carrying a tray of chocolate ganache ramekins, and placed them between the shortbread and the cake.

“Pastor John is impressed with how many people have come to the bake sale. We should raise more than enough money for a new commercial oven.”

Julie looked around the room. “Everyone looks as though they’re enjoying themselves.”

Susan nodded. “The local radio station has been interviewing the people who are here. It’s created quite a stir.” She checked her watch. “Our first demonstration is in forty minutes. Rachel and Maria are in the kitchen getting the dough ready for the brioche rolls.”

“Are you still doing the glaze, Beth?” Julie said.

“I am. I’ve chosen lemon and honey.” Beth pressed her palms together. “I’ve practiced it four times over the last couple of days.”

“You don’t need to practice anymore. It’ll be great.” Susan straightened the chalkboard and moved back toward the kitchen.

By half past ten the hall was full. Pastor John’s catering students had drawn their own crowd around a variety of savory goodies. The high school table had a slightly crooked banner, matching aprons, and homemade candy. The elementary school contributed wildlife-shaped cookies, and the misshapen elk and lopsided bears were more appealing for it. And the Starlight Café had already sold out of most of its treats.

Twenty minutes later, Julie was glad they’d made extra food. Everything was selling fast. She was explaining to an older gentleman that yes, the ginger bars contained real ginger, when a small stir from the demonstration area drew her eye. Susan had taken her place behind the demonstration counter with Beth beside her, and a dozen people waiting eagerly to see what they would do.

Susan’s voice carried easily across the chatter. “Brioche is one of those doughs that rewards patience. We’re going to show you what it looks like at each stage, so you know what you’re aiming for.” She held up a small ball of dough between her palms, slow and deliberate. “The texture should feel like this—soft enough to push back, firm enough to hold its shape.”

A woman in the front row leaned forward. Several people had their phones out.

Susan and Beth moved effortlessly through the demonstration. They showed everyone how to make Brioche rolls without fuss, and without making anyone feel as though they couldn’t do it.

The main doors beside Julie opened and cold air announced five new arrivals.

Noah came first, holding the door and steering a boy of about seven ahead of him. Behind them, Cassie entered with a small girl of about four in tow. Cole came last, carrying a canvas tote bag.

The girl saw the animal shelter’s table immediately.

“Mama.” She stopped walking. “Dogs.”

Cassie nodded. “I see them.”

“Can we⁠—”

“Yes. Go with your brother.”

The children hurried across the room. Cassie followed, pausing just long enough to catch Julie’s eye with a smile.

Noah stopped beside the baking class’s table with his hands in his jacket pockets. “Mabel told me you made ginger bars, Julie. They’re my favorite.”

“It’s good that we’ve got plenty of free samples, then. Help yourself.” Julie pushed the tray toward him.

Noah ate one and sighed. “Delicious.”

Cole set his tote bag down and looked at the table, then at Julie. “Would you mind if I have one?”

She shook her head. “Help yourself. If you want to know how to make them, I’m baking them at the demonstration table in half an hour.”

Cole picked one up and tasted it. A slow smile appeared on his face. “These are good. Really good,” he said.

Laurel appeared at Julie’s elbow and introduced herself to Cole. Before he could move away, she sold him four ginger bars and a slice of cake.

Cole grinned at Julie. “If I stay here for too long, I’ll end up buying everything you’ve baked.”

Julie laughed. “It’s just as well you weren’t here earlier. If you’d tasted Laurel’s shortbread, there’d be no room left in your bag.”