“Wow,” she whispers, “I can’t wait until we can use this tomorrow.”
“I’m sure it will be a lot more efficient than the old one I pulled out. How old was that thing?”
“Oh gosh, probably at least thirty years old.”
“I can assure you you’ll love this one, then. I installed some in another bakery a few months ago and I stop in often to grab stuff and they rave about them to me.”
“That’s what I like to hear. I was nervous about replacing them, due to the cost, but Nathan insisted on it.”
I don’t know why, but another man’s name falling from her lips has my blood boiling. Who the hell is Nathan? I don’t see a ring on her finger, but that doesn’t mean anything. She’s a baker, maybe she removes her ring so it doesn’t get in things she’s baking.
“I’ll let you know once we have it in and you can come to check it out,” I state curtly, and turn back to focusing on the wiring kit.
“Thanks,” she says before turning on her heel and floating back out of the kitchen.
“Yo, dude, what just came over you. You went from being a southern gentleman to being a dick in the blink of an eye,” Paul calls me out.
“Nothing,” I grunt. “Just need to focus on this,” I lie to him. I know damn well what happened, I just don’t want to admit it out loud.
I finish up the wiring and we get the oven off the truck. It has a lot of packing material, so we strip all of that off before manhandling it inside. I get the wires connected to the back and verify that the unit will turn on before we lift it and start getting it secured into place. I only made that mistake once. Got a unit fully secured into place, only to realize something got crossed and it wouldn’t turn on, so I had to remove it and fix the wiring problem and redo all that work.
“Do you want me to grab Lacey?” Paul asks once we verify that the oven is working properly.
“Sure, and in the meantime, I’ll get all the packing materials cleaned up.” He turns to walk toward the door that swings open to the front of the bakery. If the smells from back here are any indication as to how good the items they make and sell here are, I’m going to have to visit the front and get something. My stomach has been grumbling since I got here. Sweets are my weakness, so I do my best to stay away from bakeries.
“Are you already done?” Lacey asks as she approaches. I turn to face her and am once again knocked on my heels by her.
“It was a piece of cake.” I smirk at the pun, and love the smile that I get in return.
“Eek,” she squeals, and claps her hands together in excitement. “Anything special we need to know about operating it?” she asks.
“Nothing special that I can think of. I’ve set all the paperwork for it over there.” I motion to the edge of a work table. “I’ve power cycled it on and off and everything is working properly. Being that it is a new machine, and a lot more efficient than your old one, you may need to adjust your baking times.”
“I figured; we’ll keep a close eye on things over the next few days as we break it in. It will be so nice once we get the second one in here.”
“Speaking of the second one, I have it down to be installed on Friday, does that sound correct?” I ask.
“Yep, we just didn’t want to risk both ovens being replaced on the same day and have something go wrong and then be screwed.”
“I can understand that worry, but everything with the install went perfectly. No issues at all.”
“Thank you so much, you have no idea how much we needed this!” she says, and throws herself into my arms, hugging me. Before I even know what I’m doing, my arms are wrapping around her, holding her close to my body.
“You’re welcome. Maybe I’ll have to try out something you’ve baked in them when I come back,” I suggest. I force myself to drop my arms so she can step out of our embrace.
“Of course. Would you like something today?” she offers. “I’m sorry I didn’t offer both of you something before.”
“Nothing to apologize for, ma’am,” Paul tells her.
“Let us finish cleaning up and we can pull around to the front to grab something before we head back to the shop.”
“Sounds good,” she agrees.
“Lacey, we need another tray of cinnamon rolls,” another woman’s voice calls through the doorway.
“Okay,” she calls back to her, and turns to grab a couple of pans from a case. She slides them inside the older oven that hasn’t been replaced yet and sets a timer. “I apologize now for how good it’s going to smell back here in about five minutes.”
“My weakness,” I groan and pat my stomach.