Page 18 of Forbidden to Fall

I poured brown sugar into the canister. “If you must know, it was a combination of nostalgia and measuring.”

His brows went up. “Measuring…”

I took a second before responding, then turned to him like I was facing my poor choices head on. “How many bags of flour could fit in there.”

He looked at me for a second, then opened the cupboard door to show the three bags. “Did you measure right?”

I shook my head. There was definitely room for more bags than I’d estimated.

He shut the door. “And the nostalgia?”

I smiled. “That cupboard was my super-secret spot when we used to play hide-and-seek. No one ever found me.”

He raised his brows. “Really?”

“Yup.” I put the lid on the canister like it was a mic drop.

“I found you.”

I let my eyes slowly move to him. “Because I was banging on the door and yelling for help.”

He smiled slightly. “You need anything else?”

“No, but thank you.”

He raised a dark, skeptical brow.

“Really this time.”

He gave a nod, then made his way out of the room.

I stared at the open doorway for a few seconds, then got back to work organizing and putting ingredients in canisters.

My plan was to try my cream puffs again, but this time, I wanted to make four small batches, each with a different grade of maple. I didn’t know much about the grades beyond that they had unique tastes, but I was curious just how much it would affect the result.

I slipped on my apron and put my wavy hair back in a claw clip, then started baking to the sound of James working in the other room.

My mind wandered as I baked, thinking ahead to selling products—something I hoped was in my future. I had no concept of how many visitors the maple farm got each year. I knew people liked to see the process, but just how many? What could we realistically count on selling?

Four batches turned out to be an ambitious endeavor. To test things the way I wanted to, I had to make different batches of dough, filling, and topping. I decided to forgo the topping and settle for a simple syrup glaze instead.

It was strange, working like this without Mrs. Keller’s voice in my head or her quality control looming over me. Just for the fun of it, I left the choux pastry balls a little wonky.

They came out of the oven full of…character.

What could I say? I lived my life on the edge now.

It was getting dark by the time I’d finished.

After spending hours with choux pastry and cream filling, I had no desire to eat my creations. It was the baker’s curse.

I tried all four of them anyway, closing my eyes to focus on the subtle differences in taste.

A knock brought me out of my tasting trance.

James stood in the open doorway. “You still working?”

“Are you?”