Page 7 of Forbidden to Fall

It had taken all my self-persuasive powers to ask the question, but the suspenseful silence after it was worse.

“What exactly would that look like?” Mrs. Keller looked as dubious as if I’d just pitched her a money laundering scheme.

I gave a little shrug. “I’d spend some of my hours at the farm, helping Mrs. Carver.”

Mrs. Keller’s eyes narrowed. “And why would you want to do that?”

I lifted my shoulders. “Because she needs it. Autumn Ridge wouldn’t be the same without Carver Maple Farm, and I get the feeling that she’s struggling there.”

She grimaced sympathetically. “How could she not be?” She let out a sigh and folded a hand towel. “Losing a husband and a son within a year…”

She made it sound as though James was dead.

I waited for her mind to return to the issue at hand. I wasn’t brave enough to bring up my idea twice in two minutes.

She hung the folded hand towel, then looked at me. “The Keller menu is set, Sadie.”

“But this wouldn’t be part of the bakery per se,” I hurried to explain. “It would be something…separate.”

She raised a brow.

“Goods to sell at town events and at the maple farm, for instance.”

“Under the Keller name.”

“Only with your approval. I could make you samples.”

She gave this some thought, then shook her head. “We don’t have the space in our kitchen for it.”

“I wouldn’t be using this one, though. The farm has a kitchen in the sugar shack.” I remembered it well. The broom cupboard had been my go-to spot during hide-and-seek.

Mrs. Keller’s mouth twisted to the side as she looked at me.

My body was tense as I waited.

She grimaced. “I’m sorry, Sadie. I just can’t agree to something like that. But”—she said before I could look dejected—“I feel for May Carver, and it would be a shame if the farm went under. Our menu does rely on them to an extent.”

I nodded, ignoring her somewhat selfish view of the potential demise of the farm. I was too curious where she was going with her comment.

“You’ll have fewer hours here,” she said, “which leaves you more time for your own projects. I have no problem with you helping May on your own.”

I kept quiet, thinking through what she was saying. She was making it possible to pursue my idea—just not under the Keller name or on its dime. She didn’t trust me to create anything worthy of the Keller name, but I’d already known that.

Then again, if I did this on my own, the profits would go to me instead of the bakery.

That thought was intriguing.

I’d been at Keller’s for a decade. My entire existence was centered around the bakery and the space above it. Add in Morgan’s impending arrival, and the walls felt like they were closing in.

Maybe this was exactly what I needed. Spend more time outside of the bakery, help May Carver, and get to use a bit of my own culinary creativity.

The more I considered it, the more my body started to buzz with the idea.

I liked this plan.

The real question, though, was whether May Carver would also like it—and trust me enough to carry it out.

I grabbed the burlap sack and the plate of maple cream puffs from the passenger seat of my car, then headed to the front door of the Carver home. It was strange to be here so soon again after so many years away.