Beauty and the Baker Read online

  He was more fortunate than others. Many of the boys working at the factory didn’t learn skills like reading or math. That was probably why the foreman felt safe leaving his papers in plain sight.

  Only Charlie could read them, and he then knew what the management of the factory was up to.

  “You’re dressed all fancy,” Charlie said. His voice was short. He didn’t mean to be short with Cassie. He was so grateful that Max and she took him in when he showed up in Creede unannounced.

  He did have Ian send a telegram to Hal after the incident at the warehouse. Charlie would have sent one once he left the hospital, but that would have taken up much of his precious funds.

  Charlie stopped by to see Ian before he left. Charlie had given Ian instructions that if he escaped, to send the telegram and then go into the apartment where Charlie lived with Cassie and Hal. Charlie told Ian where his secret stash of coins could be found and asked for him to collect a few other items.

  If Charlie made it out of the situation he would come and see Ian about collecting those items.

  Charlie had hidden the coins in the wooden bed frame. He carved a hole in one of the posts and then covered it with a decorative ornament. No one would ever have suspected to look there for a hidden trove.

  Ian had collected everything for him, apart from one item he really wanted; a framed picture of his mother. Ian couldn’t find it. He gave Charlie everything he found, down to the last penny.

  Charlie really didn’t have a better friend than Ian. Charlie refused to say good-bye as he hugged his friend. He didn’t know when or if he might see Ian again, but saying goodbye just seemed too permanent.

  The next morning, Charlie hopped on a train with Sam and Duncan and headed West. Cassie didn’t ask any questions when he arrived. She simply wrapped him in a hug and said she was happy he was home.

  Home.

  Charlie’s new home was Creede. There wasn’t a chance that he would be able to return to New York now.

  “Max and I are headed to the theater tonight. I just wanted to see if you want to join us.”

  Charlie shook his head. “I don’t feel much like going out in public.”

  Cassie sighed. “You can’t stay hidden forever, Charles. You really should get out and meet the town. They are really nice folks here.”

  Charlie shrugged. “I don’t plan on staying hidden forever. Just for now.”

  He hadn’t talked to Cassie or Hal about what happened to him. He didn’t want to talk about it just yet. Maybe never. He knew they had questions and their patience would only last so long.

  “Okay,” Cassie said, clasping her hands in front of her. “Dinner is on the stove when you are ready. And please, please, please, do not let the cat out.”

  “I won’t,” Charlie said softly.

  “We’ll be back late. Just leave the front lamp lit. I’ll extinguish it when I get home.”

  “Alright, mother.”

  Cassie looked as if she was about to say something else, but she changed her mind. Instead she stiffly nodded and went to find her husband.

  Charlie picked up the book he was reading. It was a book of sonnets, and it couldn’t keep his attention. He figured it might put him to sleep, if nothing else.

  He heard the sound of a door creak open and lifted his eyes. Mr. Gladstone, Max’s cat was there, rubbing his chin against the door. He spied Charlie and looked at him with yellow eyes.

  Charlie never had a cat before. Yes, there were wild cats that roamed the tenement, but you couldn’t touch them. Feral is what his mother had called them. They kept the mice numbers down in the buildings and yards.

  Charlie gave a low whistle and snapped his fingers. He didn’t even know if that was how you call a cat.

  The cat was a pudgy thing, his belly nearing the ground. It was a dark grey with white feet and white marks on its chest and forehead. Even one of its ears was white.

  Mr. Gladstone, named after the prime minister of England, strutted over to Charlie and hopped on the settee. The cat gave a soft purr as Charlie rubbed its ears. When Charlie stopped, the cat announced his displeasure until Charlie resumed his massage of the cat’s head.

  The cat crawled into Charlie’s lap and flexed its paws, digging its sharp nails into Charlie’s legs. Charlie picked the cat up and placed it back on the cushion next to him. Mr. Gladstone returned to Charlie’s lap and spun around twice before settling down. The cat’s claws still flexed, but this time they weren’t as sharp digging into Charlie’s legs.

  Charlie continued to stroke the cat. It was very soothing, and he felt part of his stress start to dissipate. He knew he was tense. He didn’t realize just how tense he was until he was forced to remain seated as to not upset the animal.

  He heard a knock on the front door. Maybe if he was quiet, whoever was there would just go away. The knocking continued. Releasing a sigh, he pushed the cat to the floor and got up to see who it was.

  Every muscle in his body screamed. Even though he had recovered on the surface layers, the doctor said the burns went very deep below the skin. It would take months before he didn’t feel the pain. And, the skin had shrunk as it healed, pulling tight across the muscles of his back.

  His legs weren’t so bad, as long as he didn’t do any running.

  The knock sounded once more, this time a little louder.

  “Wait a minute,” Charlie called. He opened the door and was about to give the person on the other side a piece of his mind, but he stopped when he saw Frances Brown. She had a cast iron bean pot in her hands and was using the pot to knock on the door.

  “Has everyone left for the theater already?” she asked, pushing her way into the house. She walked back to the kitchen, disappearing behind the door. She returned a moment later without the pot.

  She looked at Charlie thoughtfully with bright brown eyes. Her face was covered in deep wrinkles, and her skin was like crepe, but with a deep rosy hue on her cheeks. “Well?”

  “Uhm. Yes ma’am,” Charlie said.

  “You didn’t go?”

  Charlie shook his head.

  “Why’s that?”

  “I just didn’t want to go.”

  “Are you going to church this Sunday?” Charlie looked around the room to avoid her gaze. “You’ve been here nearly a month and haven’t left the house.” Finally, he looked back over at her. “I was able to convince Hal to go. Perhaps you should do the same.”

  She convinced his father to go to church. That must have been some undertaking. His father had been mad at God since their mother passed.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well think about it. You need God. I can tell that.” She came over and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Your father is very glad you are here, Charlie. This might be a time to mend that relationship.”

  What had his father told her? Before he could ask, she was already out the door with a wave. “Hal and I will be over for dinner tomorrow evening. Look forward to seeing you.”

  Charlie stood and stared at the door for a moment before heading back to the sitting room.

  Max had hired Frances as a housekeeper and cook after Cassie arrived in town. He wanted to make sure there was no appearance of impropriety that could mar Cassie’s reputation.

  That was another reason Charlie liked his brother-in-law. From what he could gather, his father and Frances started spending quite a bit of time together.

  Charlie wasn’t sure where Frances lived. He knew she was staying at Max’s house for a bit but had moved out once Max and Cassie were married. She wasn’t needed as a chaperone anymore.

  She still came over with meals. Cassie wasn’t the best cook and she spent many late nights at the shop fixing costumes for the theater groups that would come in town. Having Frances bring over dinner three nights a week assured Cassie that Max was eating. And now, Charlie too.

  His father had recently moved to the boarding house. Charlie thought that might be so he could continue visiting with Frances, but he d
idn’t want to get involved in his father’s affairs of the heart.

  He walked back into the office. Mr. Gladstone was sitting on the window sill, his leg stretched out and he was licking his toes.

  “You need to stop brooding. Both your sister and Mrs. Brown are correct; you need to get out of the house.”

  Charlie froze. The last time there was someone in the shadows, Charlie and his friends were taken. His hands started to shake, and he pressed them against his legs willing them to stop. Counting to ten, he slowly turned around.

  Sitting on the corner of Max’s desk was a man in a dark suit. Max could tell it was a quality suit, even though it was at least 40 years out of date.

  Charlie didn’t recognize the man. Maybe he came in with Frances, and Charlie just didn’t see him slip into the office. He could feel his heart racing beneath his chest.

  “Don’t worry, Charles, I’m not here to hurt you.” The man put his arms up in mock surrender.

  “Who are you?” Charlie looked around the room for anything he might be able to use as a weapon. “How do you know my name?”

  The man rubbed his hands on his knees. “I’m a friend of a friend. Now I’m your friend, too, Charles.”

  “I don’t know you. Why are you here?”

  “I know a great many things about you, Charles Stockton. I know that you rescued fourteen orphan boys and girls under the age of ten from the abuse at the factory. I know that you took the evidence that was needed to convince the state’s attorney to take a closer look at the factory owners in that district. I know you were kidnapped so you wouldn’t say anything, and the case would be dropped. I know terrible things were done to you. What I don’t know is why. Why did you do it?”

  Charlie shrugged. He didn’t know what happened to the children at the factory once he turned over evidence to the state. He just knew he, Ian and James had been kidnapped and taken to Maryland, apparently, and tortured.

  “Those boys are no longer working at the factory. The state said they need to remain at home until they are at least sixteen. You did good, Charlie. Not everyone can stand up when they see something wrong.”

  Charlies’ eyes went wide. “Did they send you?” he yelled, scrambling onto the back of the settee. His eyes darted left and right. He grabbed the oil lamp raising it above his head. He had no problem throwing it at the intruder if necessary.

  The man held his hands out waving them at Charlie “Oh heavens no, son. I’m not here to hurt you.” Charlie looked as though he didn’t believe the man. “I’m here to help you.”

  “Help me?”

  “Yes. I’m here to help you.” The man stood and took a deep bow. “Edward Pennyworth at your service.” Charlie didn’t recognize the name.

  Charlie raised the lamp again. “I’m telling you to leave.”

  The man lifted his head and laughed. “Your sister was definitely more open minded than you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Exactly what it sounds like. Cassandra was more open minded about taking a chance and doing something that made her uncomfortable.”

  Charlie lowered the lamp a little. “I’m not following you.”

  “Charles, you need to get out of the house. Go explore. Maybe you’ll even meet a young lady.”

  “I don’t think so,” Charlie said, lowering himself from the back of the settee down to the seat.

  “Why ever not? Marriage is one of the greatest institutions ever. I was married to my beloved for nearly forty-years.”

  “If you knew what I had been through, you wouldn’t ask me that. No woman wants a man that is scarred over half of his body.”

  “Don’t you think it is up to the lady to decide? Don’t throw the opportunity away because some vicious people hurt you. You have a good heart, as was demonstrated by you saving those boys. Good deeds are always rewarded.”

  “Who are you?” Charlie asked again.

  “I’m your guardian angel.”

  Charlie scoffed. “A guardian angel… right. I don’t believe in such nonsense.”

  “You may be right, but I have a job to do. And right now, that job is you.”

  “You mean you’ve been an angel for other people as well?”

  Mr. Pennyworth nodded. “For nearly forty years.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be in heaven?”

  “Not yet. Once I’m reunited with my Louisa, then I can go.”

  “Louisa?”

  “My wife. I’ve been searching for her for years. I know she is in this town somewhere.”

  “I’m good at finding people. Maybe we can help each other.”

  Mr. Pennyworth nodded. “Yes, but you will need to go first.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Mr. Pennyworth pointed to the window. “First, you need to find Mr. Gladstone.”

  Charlie turned around in time to see the cat’s gray tail disappear out the window.

  Chapter 5

  Georgina had just slid the tray of jelly pastries into the oven. Her aunt sat at the table on a cushion thumbing through a recipe book in front of her.

  “Those will take about 12 minutes.”

  “When should I start checking them?” Georgina asked, turning over the small sand timer that her aunt had on the shelf above the stove. There was enough sand to drop into the lower chamber for five minutes. Then she would need to flip it over again.

  Her aunt had one-,two-, three- and five-minute timers. You’ll get used to how quickly time passes, so you won’t need the timers at some point, her aunt told her. Right now, Georgina thought she needed all the timers.

  She was learning the recipes that her aunt most commonly made at the bakery. She was opening the bakery in two days. It didn’t give her much time to learn all of her aunt’s recipes.

  “In ten minutes. You don’t want them too dark.” Maybelle pulled a large mixing bowl over. “Let’s do cream pastries next. These require quite a bit of work. You’ll need to get the butter as cold as possible.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “If we have enough ice, then I would sit it on ice for a bit. But right now, the ice is gone, so you’ll have to use cold water. Just float the butter bell in that crock.”

  The butter bell was a ceramic cup that sat top down on a saucer. Inside, her aunt had packed fresh butter, made from the milk the milkman delivered.

  Georgina filled the crock with cold water from the pump and then placed the butter bell in the water. The bell hovered for a few moments before sinking to the bottom.

  “Is that alright?” Georgina asked, peering inside the crock.

  “It will be fine. The butter is packed so tightly that water won’t get into it. Now measure out the ingredients while I call them out to you.”

  Georgina sifted the ingredients into a bowl as she thought about everything that had transpired the past week. Once she arrived in Creede she sent off telegrams to Lawrence and her parents.

  To Lawrence she said that a family emergency prevented her from arriving as planned, but she gave him her aunt’s address to reach her.

  To her parents, she pressed the urgency of visiting Aunt Maybelle and apologized for the sudden departure. She didn’t mention anything about San Francisco.

  Her father responded almost immediately with a telegram of his own and let her know they would make plans to join her within a month.

  Oh bother, she thought.

  “You are putting more flour on the table than you are the bowl,” her aunt said, pulling her out of her thoughts.

  Georgina looked down. “Oh goodness,” she said, yanking the sifter away from the bowl, causing it to fly over her head. Flour went everywhere, rising in a cloud above her. She coughed as the flour dust settled into her hair and on her face. “Oh, Auntie, I am so sorry,” she said, wiping the flour from her eyes.

  Maybelle took one look at Georgina standing there covered in flour and let out a loud laugh. She laughed so hard, that soon tears were rolling down her cheeks. She finally caught
her breath. “You… should… see yourself,” she said between peals of laughter.

  Georgina went to her bedroom and looked at herself in the mirror above the wash basin. She tried not to laugh too much as she looked at herself. Her aunt was right. She looked like a ghost.

  Flour dust covered her hair, turning her blonde locks an even lighter hue. Flour clung to her cheeks and lashes. She even had flour on the tip of her nose.

  Grabbing a cloth, she placed it in the water basin and then tried to get as much flour off her cheeks as possible. What she couldn’t remove, now clung to her in paste-like streaks.

  Oh bother, she thought.

  “Mr. Gladstone!” a voice called through the window. Georgina stood up straight and peered out from behind the mirror. The voice called again.

  “Mr. Gladstone!”

  Georgina could see a mop of dark hair just above the fence surrounding the small yard. Suddenly a cat jumped over the fence and disappeared beneath the small wooden structure in the back yard.

  The back gate opened, and that same dark head of hair popped through, into the garden. Georgina dropped her cloth into the water and headed back towards the kitchen.

  “What is it, dear?” Maybelle asked.

  “There is someone in the back yard,” Georgina whispered. She looked around and grabbed the first two items she saw – a broom and the coal pan.

  “What are you doing with those?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “Why are you whispering?”

  “Shh! He’ll hear us,” Georgina insisted.

  “Mr. Gladstone!” the voice called once more, the sound drifting into the kitchen area.

  “Oh, my,” her aunt said. “That is my neighbor’s cat from down the alley. But that doesn’t sound like my neighbor.”

  “Does he visit often?”

  “The cat. Yes, I’m afraid. Quite frequently.” She pointed to her leg. “That is how this happened. Poor creature dashed out and got caught in my skirt. Down I went. All rather frightful, I must say.”

  “Stay here, Auntie. I’ll handle this.” She lifted the broom and headed out to the garden. The man was hunched down, peering under the benches that littered the garden. The yard was small, but the perfect size for a widow woman. “May I help you?” Georgina asked, pointing the broom handle towards the intruder.