Page 11 of Baking With A Ghost
Whistling with newfound optimism, I head back to the kitchen. The extra few hours of sleep has helped drastically. For the first time in weeks, I feel recharged and ready to tackle the day.
That all changes when I enter the kitchen.
The whirring of the ovens fills the room, but that's not what has my attention. In the middle of my kitchen baking island is a measured bowl of flour and several different spices. I know for a fact I didn't put those there. It was empty when I got here.
Did I not have enough sleep? This is madness. I know this wasn't me. I haven't even unlocked the doors since last night.
With a cautious step I draw closer and notice the spices laid out are all ones I've been using to perfect my secret bread recipe.
I can't explain the feeling, but I know I'm not alone. Just like looking at myself in the mirror, the presence of someone here is certain.
I need to know, so I ask the empty room, "Who are you?"
The silence stretches as far as the grand canyon, until finally it breaks when I hear a clatter in the store front. Jogging out to see what happened, I gasp at what I find.
My whiteboard has fallen over, but when I set it back upright, there's a scrawled name in red dry erase marker.
Simon.
John
Bake to Forget
"Holyshit."
With wobbling knees, I flop onto a chair and fill my lungs with breath after breath.
My bakery is haunted.
My bakery is haunted and the ghost is talking to me. He might even have had my dick in his throat. If dream sex counts and it totally does in my opinion.
"Simon? Uh… do you want to talk?"
If he can write his name on a board, he could communicate that way, couldn't he? Is this where I should get one of those boards people use to talk to spirits? This is so bizarre.
When it feels safe to stand, I wipe the board off and rewrite my specials and prices as they were before. There's no time for me to have a breakdown or try to find the number for the local Ghostbusters branch. I have a bakery to run today. This has to wait.
"I should really stash a bottle of liquor down here. I don't think coffee is going to cut it today."
I pause at the kitchen door, wondering what might be on the other side this time. When I swing it open with extra flair, I'm not sure what I was hoping for, but it's just as it was before. Stepping up to the island, I survey all the ingredients set out and flip open my recipes, where I've been tracking what works and what doesn't. There's one bottle on the counter that's new to me. Anise.
"He thinks I should try anise in my bread?"
Before I can allow myself to overthink it, I mix a batch of dough with the ingredients I've deemed worthy up to this point. Taking the bottle of anise I measure an 1/8 of a teaspoon, not convinced it will be the missing ingredient, but willing to try if this ghost, who now has a name, thinks it's a good idea.
Placing the newest experimental loaf in the oven, I get to work baking the popular weekend items of cinnamon rolls and fresh bread loaves. My dough for the rolls was setting overnight and it's the perfect stickiness now, ready to be baked. Flipping on my wireless speakers, I call up the playlist and begin my usual dance and bake routine.
But it's not the same as before. Simon is here and not knowing exactly where he is, I imagine him here with me waiting for the bread. He doesn't respond to any more call outs of his name either. I had read once that sometimes spirits can still hear you when you talk so that's what I do.
I speak into the empty bakery or sing along to my music, including Simon as if he were right here with me.
During one particularly rowdy dance routine withBoom! shake, shake, shake the room, I was laughing at my poor excuse of dancing so hard, I wished Simon would respond in some way. I was born with no rhythm, dancing not being my strong suit, but I still do it. Is it weird to wish a ghost would come back and laugh at you?
"Simon, if you were here we could dance. That would be fun right?"
The song finishes and I hit pause on my phone. It's time to open and the bread is cooling. Mary will love being able to try the bread first thing. She's usually here multiple days each week. When I enter the store front, sure enough, her tiny smart car is just pulling in.
"Good morning, John! My goodness, it smells amazing. I'm not sure how you manage to stay so slim with all these carbs around you. I gain weight just by breathing in here."
