The Sweetest Christmas, Part 2
Posted on Mon Dec 30th, 2024 @ 3:33pm by Lieutenant JG Jane Sinclair
1,194 words; about a 6 minute read
Mission:
Christmas Vacation
Location: The town of Clearlake, Proxima Centauri II
Timeline: Christmas time
The scent of nutmeg and cinnamon and freshly baked cookies flooded Jane’s nose the instant she opened the door into Sweet Haven Bakery. Pink and blue décor, wooden tables and chairs, art on the walls that if the signage was to be believed came from students at the high school, and that intoxicating smell of baking all made this place feel homey and warm and wonderful.
The line-up of customers told Jane everything she needed to know: the people here knew how to bake. A friendly teenage boy was helping serve customers as fast as he could, while a busy troop of women and men worked behind the scenes, visible through a window into the back.
“Jane!”
The door into the back room opened and out came Emmy, wearing a white apron over jeans and a red t-shirt. She was carrying a tray of still steaming cinnamon buns. “Give me a minute to put these out. Take a seat over there.” She pointed to a free table for two to the right of the entrance.
”Of course!” Jane took the offered seat and watched while the honey-blonde baker. She didn’t just greet her customers, but she had sincere conversations with each of them. She seemed to remember the names of their spouses, parents, or children, their jobs, if they went on holiday recently. She cared about the community.
Emmy disappeared into the back again and came out, this time without an apron and carrying a tray with a play of treats, a pot, and two cups.
”Ah’m sorry about that,” Emmy said as she set the tray down. “It’s been hectic as all heck!”
”Looks like people really like your bakery,” Jane said.
”Ah do have a loyal base,” Emmy replied modestly. “We make good food here.”
”It’s not just your buns, even if they look scrumptious,” Jane said, before promptly blushing. “I mean…”
Emmy giggled. “Ah’ve had no complaints either way.”
”What I mean is, people like the atmosphere,” Jane clarified. “They like the friendliness. They like you.”
”And Ah like them too. This is a nice little community here, and Ah’m glad to be part of it.” Emmy poured them each a cup of a pinkish-red tea. “Mah own blend. Almond, ginger, cinnamon, apple, and bits of beetroot. Goes perfectly with the white chocolate macadamia nut.” She gestured to the cookies most prominently on display.
Jane took a sip and made an appreciative “Hmm!” sound. It was a delightful blend. She reached for a cookie at the same time Emmy did, their fingers brushing gently for a moment, making the two of them blush. “Here,” Jane took the cookie and broke it in two, the perfectly gooey treat not crumbling but coming apart seamlessly, with stretches of melty white chocolate connecting the two halves until they couldn’t anymore.
Jane brought her piece to her mouth and her eyes rolled back into her head. The texture was perfectly soft and the flavours of nuts, chocolate, and other spices came together perfectly. “This might be the best cookie I’ve ever had,” she finally got out after silently letting it melt on her tongue for the longest time.
Emmy’s giggle came back. “Ah’m glad you like it. It’s mah entry in tomorrow’s baking contest.”
”You’re a shoo-in then,” Jane said confidently. “Nothing can compete.”
”It isn’t just flavour being judged,” Emmy explained. “There are some formal judges but it’s also how many you can make and sell, with all the money going to the orphan fund. Lily Adams has a big team over at Sugar and Nice, and apparently Trent Harris arranged for someone big to market whatever they’re selling.”
”Ugh, Trent Harris,” Jane groaned. “I ran into him on my way here. He seems to still be the competitive jerk he was way back when.”
Emmy nodded. “He doesn’t care about the charity or the baking. He just wants to win for winning’s sake.”
“I can sometimes understand that,” Jane admitted, “but he’s too much. Still, win or lose, I can guarantee yours are the best.”
**
The two continued talking for the next hour. Jane shared stories of her life in Interstellar-One, and then in Starfleet. Her face had been all over the local news a few times, both for her racing wins and her role in stopping the Federation Council insurrection. Emmy shared stories of home, a place Jane always thought was boring but as Emmy spoke she saw that home could be more interesting than expected. Secrets and adventures hiding around every corner if she only bothered to look.
An alarm sounded on Emmy’s wristwatch. “Ah need to go. Mah backyard is good for Bailey to play and do her business but she needs a proper walk. Plus the weather’s gonna get worse soon and she’ll need to be brought inside after.”
”Mind if I tag along?” Jane asked. “I’ve nowhere else to be.”
Emmy nodded excitedly. She called to the back of the bakery to let her team know where she was going and the two of them went out.
Emmy’s house was far enough that they needed a public beaming station to get to her neighborhood, but in no time flat they were at her gate.
”Bailey!” Emmy called. “C’mere, girl! Time for walkies!” They crossed into the backyard, but there was no sounds of eager barking or excited tail wagging or happy running. Only silence. “Bailey?”
Jane took out her tricorder and began to scan the area. There were no signs of dog life in the backyard.
Uh-oh.
”Jane?” said an increasingly-panicking Emmy. “Where’s mah dog?”
The Starfleet Officer walked further into the backyard and looked for any clues. It was a bit before dusk, so she could see pretty clearly.
The first clue was the dog’s leash. Bailey had a long leash, with plenty of slack to make sure that she could get anywhere she wanted in the backyard but also stay safe and secure. One end was frayed. “Cut,” Jane said. “With a utility knife of some kind, I’d guess.”
”But why?”
”To distract you from the competition,” Jane said. “You’re not on your game, distraught by your missing dog.” She shook her head. “Probably Trent. We’ll never prove it but it tracks. He’s threatened by you and wants you to fail.”
”I never thought he’d be that cruel,” Emmy said, her voice a mix of anger and fear.
“Tracks,” Jane said, pointing. “They lead into the woods here.”
”There are trails back there,” Emmy said, wiping a tear from her eyes. “Gimme a sec.”
The baker ran inside her home and came back out two minutes later with her arms full. “The temperature’s droppin’ and that coat isn’t thick enough. Here.” She gave Jane a warm coat with a replicated fur edge, ear muffs, and gloves, as well as a flashlight, and then donned her own warmer outerwear. “Let’s go.”
To be continued…
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