Chapter 2

After about twenty minutes, Mr. Barry, the deacon handling the bidding, put a basket that to Adam's eyes, might be Mrs. Logan's in front of him. It had the thin blue ribbon tied at the base of one of the twin handles. No one else would know for certain that it was Mrs. Logan's if they were waiting for it, not even Adam himself, except that he had asked, Miss Handley, Mrs. Logan's aunt who helped in the bakery and lived in one of the rooms over the shop, how he would know which basket was hers.

Thursday morning, right before dawn, Adam had stopped by the bakery shop to ask Mrs. Logan if she was going to the box social; during the day, she was far too busy to speak to him and barely glanced at him as he waited to exchange a few words with her. The door to her bakery shop wasn't yet unlocked, the sign still turned to CLOSED, but Miss Handley who was inside, saw him, and smiling at Adam's earnest face, let him in.

"She's in the back," Miss Handley had said with a small smile and motioned for Adam to go around the counter. Miss Handley had noticed how Adam Cartwright stopped by the shop often, he and his two brothers or him alone, and he often tried to engage Mrs. Logan in conversation but she seemed to barely notice him no matter how much he tried. And he did try.

Adam pulled off his hat and walked into the small kitchen that served the shop. Mrs. Logan was rolling out buttered pastry. She looked up from her work and Adam stood nervously, turning his hat by its brim.

"Good morning, Mr. Cartwright. A bit early isn't it? We aren't yet open."

"Your aunt, let me in."

"Have you come to check out the cleanliness of my kitchen before you buy anything?" She stared at him.

"No, no," he laughed; he couldn't tell if she was serious or joking. He sniffed the air. "What you're baking does smell good. What is it?'

"Croissants and pain au chocolate. I'm hoping to have enough customers this morning so that I don't have to hand them out to strangers on the street. It's either that or throw them away if they don't sell."

"Well, Virginia City isn't the most sophisticated place. The people around here, mostly men, only know apple, rhubarb or peach pie and for breakfast, it's usually heavy on meat, eggs and dairy," Adam said. "A continental breakfast doesn't appeal to them."

"So you're saying that I made a mistake in starting a bakery here?"

"No, I'm not saying that, not at all. I just wanted to explain why business might be slow. Once people taste your pastries…well, I think giving out samples is probably a good idea-a way of advertising. And as far as customers, my brother Hoss alone can keep you in business for years." Adam smiled to let Eloise Logan know that he was apologetic if he upset her.

"Oh, I see," Eloise said. She brushed some flour off her apron and then, with the back of her hand, pushed some dark, stray locks off her forehead. "Can I do anything for you?"

"Well, I was wondering if you were going to be at the box social this Saturday."

She began working the dough again. "I hadn't really thought about it," she said quietly.

"Well, the reason I ask is that I'd like to bid on your picnic basket." Adam felt himself begin to flush with nervousness; he didn't know why she made him feel this way or why he had decided to pursue her. Eloise Logan didn't seem to care for him in particular and usually that would be enough to discourage him but for some reason, he couldn't divert his attention from her, couldn't draw his mind from thinking of her.

Adam watched Eloise as she worked, surrounded by flour and bowls and pastry cutters. The kitchen, actually the whole shop, smelled of vanilla and baked crusts and sugar and fragrant coffee. And Eloise Logan had rolled up her sleeves past her elbows and her shapely arms were exposed as was her throat; she had unbuttoned the top few buttons at the neck of her blouse. And even though her hair was simply pulled back in a low chignon, Adam thought that she looked lovely enough to take to a dance. And he wanted her to like him but he knew that he was trying too hard and he couldn't stop himself.

Mrs. Logan stopped what she was doing and looked at him quizzically. "Isn't it supposed to be anonymous? Isn't that the point?"

Adam gave a small laugh; he realized that he sounded nervous. "Not really. Women tell the men who they want to win their lunch either some special food or what design is on the box or the basket…anything. That way, it works out."

She stared at him in silence for a few seconds and Adam felt himself begin to sweat under his trail coat. 'Just shut up,' he told himself, 'just leave. She thinks you're an ass.'

"Isn't that cheating, in a manner?" she asked, her face open and guileless. .

"Well, no. It's just that…I suppose in a way it is cheating but it's expected. I mean between people who want to share the afternoon together. If they want to make certain that…" Adam let his voice fade; he didn't know what else to say. "Well, I guess that since you hadn't planned on going to the social, it's moot." he swallowed deeply. He wondered how he could extricate himself from this awkwardness. "It smells good in here. What are you baking?"

"I told you-croissants and pain au chocolat."

"That's right, you did. Well, maybe I'll buy a few. I left home so early, I never had time for breakfast." Adam looked down at his hat.

"If you'd like some coffee, please tell my aunt that it's gratis."

Adam burned with embarrassment. Adam told himself that Mrs. Logan felt sorry for him, maybe was even hinting that he wanted a free breakfast.

"That's all right," he said. "I think I can manage to pay for a cup of coffee."

"I'm sure you can," Eloise Logan said. "I was only trying to be friendly; I didn't mean to offend you."

"No, I wasn't offended…" Adam was flustered again. Mrs. Eloise Logan the pretty, young widow who had opened the bakery a few weeks ago, upset him greatly. He felt like a young kid again, not a 33 year old man who was experienced with women. "Thank you for the coffee," Adam said. "I'll tell her." Adam nodded to Eloise and put his hat back on and went into the shop, his heart pounding.

"Well," Miss Handley asked, "did you find out what you wanted to know?" Mrs. Handley was almost twenty-five years older than the young widow and she was friendly enough to Adam. Actually, she felt sympathy for the young man; she knew that her niece had no interest in developing a relationship with any man. After the death of her husband, Eloise Logan left Chicago with all that she owned and brought her single aunt with her; Mrs. Logan's wish was to start a French bakery, actually, a café, even though she had no business experience. But she had liked to bake ever since she was a child and so decided to make it her livelihood. Eloise Logan had such pleasant memories of the time she had spent in France, fresh out of her private girl's school. It had been one of the happiest times of her life, traveling the country with her mother and aunt. So the smells and sounds of the bakery soothed her and made her happy since they brought back such pleasant memories. It all brought back the carefree days before she had met Mr. Logan and been drawn into his world.

"No, I didn't," Adam answered. "Well, I suppose in a way, I did. I asked her if she was going to the box lunch social Saturday and she said that she hadn't thought about it. I guess that's a no."

Miss Handley handed Adam a mug of fragrant coffee. He reached into his pocket to pay.

"No," she said. "It's on the house." Miss Handley grinned at him.

"That's what she said but I can pay, especially since business is slow."

"Mr. Cartwright, accept a kindness."

Adam sighed. "Thank you."

"Now accept another," Miss Handley said, leaning in conspiratorially. "I'll get her to the social. When whoever it is reads the list of foods inside, listen for a maple walnut pie. That'll be hers. I'll bake it myself."

Adam grinned and then he drank deeply of the coffee. "Good coffee," he said.

"Here," Miss Handley said as she picked up the coffee carafe, "let me pour you some more."

She did and Adam, standing at the counter instead of sitting at one of the tables in the shop, sipped more. "I was just wondering, is there someone else? I mean is there someone who's courting Mrs. Logan?

"No, no one else. Why?"

"Oh, I just wondered." Adam drank some more coffee. He wanted to ask about Eloise Logan, what her history was but didn't want to push Miss Handley's good will; he'd find out in time for himself.