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convict, and the hardness of prison life still clung to him. After he got over the initial surprise that he’d been hired despite his background, he’d worked like a demon. At the time, it had been only Sophie and Mae. Wayne had filled in all the blanks. He was the deliveryman, the fix-it guy, the heavy lifter and whatever else the job required, and he did it all without complaint.
    It hadn’t taken Sophie long to realize that there was an equally big brain to go along with that brawn, and she quickly put it to work, as well. Now, four years later, Wayne knew as much about the business as she did, and she knew he could easily go somewhere else and make more money. But still he stayed with them, loyal to a fault.
    “Okay, I’ll talk to him,” she said, just as the orderly rolled the wheelchair into the room. As she was loaded into the chair and rolled along the corridor, her busy mind was racing. Sophie knew much about their new baker’s situation, and how he’d happened to become available at a price she could pay. So her mind kept telling her not to get excited. Of course he probably looked like he stepped off the pages of a magazine, and of course his arrogance in his skill would rub Wayne the wrong way.
    But even though she knew there was no rational reason to get excited, her heart was still racing in anticipation, and she was more anxious to reach the store than she cared to admit.
     
    Eliot wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced at his watch. Apparently lunch had come with a price, because as soon as he’d taken the last bite, Mae had put him to work and stayed to supervise.
    A delivery truck had arrived filled with huge bags of flour and sugar. He and Dante had been put to work unloading it. Lifting and moving the heavy bags made his expensive silk shirt cling to his torso.
    He’d completely given up on the idea of stealing Mae’s recipe book. There was no way he could take a book that she’d spent a lifetime building and protecting. Now his attention was completely focused on Sophie. Eliot had a feeling that stealing her would be just as crippling as stealing the recipe book.
    But what would happen when Wayne returned with her? Sophie would know, wouldn’t she? That he was not the man she’d hired? And then he would be exposed anyway. So why not just take the book and run?
    As he watched Mae carry in a small box, he rushed to take it from her. “Here, Mama Mae, I got it,” he said, having already picked up on the nickname the small staff called her by.
    She smiled up at him with gratitude and brown eyes full of trust. “Thank you, El, that was starting to get a little heavy.” She chuckled, reaching back to stroke her lower back. “These old bones can’t do what they used to.” She glanced down at his clinging shirt. “El, do you usually work in these kinda clothes?”
    “No, ma’am, I don’t.” He laughed. “I just rushed off this morning without a change.”
    Eliot realized this was the problem. This woman, who reminded him too much of his mother. Her blind trust and acceptance of him was like a fragile glass vase that he was contemplating smashing on the floor. He had to do it. Uncle Carl would expect him to do it. But somehow he could not bring himself to do it, he thought.
    He was restocking the box racks in the front of the store when Eliot saw Wayne’s old pickup truck pull up. The moment of truth had arrived.
    He climbed down from the racks and he waited inside the door, surprised by his own nervousness. It wasn’t like Sophie Mayfield was truly his employer, after all.
    As Eliot watched Wayne open the passenger door and help the young woman inside position herself on her crutches, he was surprised by her youth. She was petite, with long, brown hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. At first glance, she didn’t seem to be much older than Dante and Lonnie. Listening to the others’ descriptions, he’d expected something akin to a force of nature.
    Using the crutches, she limped