CHAPTER TWO – FLOUR FIGHT

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of customers and baking. As lunchtime approached, Rebecca found herself alone in the kitchen, tasked with preparing a fresh batch of bread. An idea began to form in her mind, a small act of rebellion that would hopefully go unnoticed. Glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching, she quickly swapped the labels on the flour and sugar bins. It was childish, she knew, but the thought of the chaos it might cause made her smile. Just as she finished, Nancy entered the kitchen. "Mom wants you to make a batch of sourdough." Rebecca nodded, biting back a grin. "Sure thing. Why don't you start on some white bread?" Nancy looked surprised at Rebecca's cooperative attitude but shrugged and got to work. Rebecca busied herself with the sourdough, watching out of the corner of her eye as Nancy reached for the mislabeled flour bin. As Nancy mixed her ingredients, Rebecca held her breath, waiting for the moment of realization. It came a few minutes later when Nancy was kneading the dough. "That's odd," Nancy murmured, frowning at the dough. "It feels... different." Rebecca feigned innocence. "Different how?" Nancy shrugged. "I don't know. Stickier, maybe? Oh well, I'm sure it's fine." Rebecca turned away to hide her smile. This was going to be interesting. An hour later, the smell of freshly baked bread filled the bakery. Nancy pulled her loaves out of the oven, looking puzzled. "They look... different," she said, examining the golden-brown crust. Their mother came over to inspect the bread. "What do you mean, different?" Nancy shrugged. "I don't know. They just don't look quite right." Catherine picked up a loaf, turning it over in her hands. "Well, the crust seems fine. Let's cut into one and see." As she sliced the bread, Rebecca held her breath, trying to keep a straight face. Catherine took a bite and immediately frowned. "This is... sweet," she said, confusion evident in her voice. "Nancy, what did you put in this bread?" Nancy's eyes widened. "Just the usual ingredients! Flour, yeast, salt, water..." "Are you sure?" Catherine pressed. "This tastes like it's full of sugar." As realization dawned on Nancy's face, Rebecca couldn't hold back anymore. A giggle escaped her lips, drawing everyone's attention. "Rebecca," her mother said slowly, "do you know something about this?" Rebecca tried to compose herself, but the laughter bubbled up again. "I... might have switched the labels on the flour and sugar bins." The kitchen fell silent for a moment, then exploded into chaos. "Rebecca Harrison!" her mother shouted. "How could you be so irresponsible? Do you have any idea what this could do to our reputation?" Her father, attracted by the commotion, entered the kitchen. "What's going on here?" As her mother explained the situation, Rebecca's amusement faded, replaced by a sinking feeling in her stomach. She'd known there would be consequences, but facing her parents' anger was never easy. "Rebecca," her father said, his voice low and controlled, "come with me. Now." As she followed him to the back office, Rebecca could hear her mother and Nancy discussing what to do with the ruined bread. She felt a twinge of guilt, but part of her still found the whole situation absurdly funny. In the office, her father turned to face her, his expression stern. "Sit down, Rebecca." She complied, bracing herself for the lecture she knew was coming. "I don't understand you, Rebecca," he began. "Why would you do something like this? Don't you care about this business, about your family's reputation?" Rebecca bit her lip, considering her words carefully. "I do care, Dad. It was just a joke. I didn't think-" "That's right, you didn't think," he interrupted. "You never seem to think about the consequences of your actions. This bakery is our livelihood, Rebecca. We can't afford to have you treating it like a playground for your pranks." "I'm sorry," Rebecca said, though the words felt hollow even to her own ears. "It won't happen again." Her father sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. "You've said that before, Rebecca. How can we trust you if you keep breaking that promise?" The question hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken tensions. Rebecca knew her father was referring to more than just the bakery incident – her sneaking out, her interest in things outside their community, her general restlessness. "I don't know," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. Her father's expression softened slightly. "Rebecca, we only want what's best for you. This community, our faith, this business – they're all part of who we are. Why can't you embrace that?" Rebecca felt a lump forming in her throat. How could she explain that the very things he saw as comforting felt suffocating to her? That she yearned for something more, something beyond the narrow confines of Gilda's Bay? "I'm trying, Dad," she said, hoping he couldn't hear the lie in her voice. "I really am." He nodded, though he didn't look entirely convinced. "Alright. Well, as punishment for this incident, you'll be working extra shifts for the next two weeks. No going out with friends, no trips to the library. Is that clear?" Rebecca's heart sank at the mention of the library, but she nodded. "Yes, sir." "Good. Now get back out there and help your mother and sister clean up the mess you've made." As Rebecca left the office, she felt a mixture of guilt and resentment. She knew her prank had been childish, but the punishment felt excessive. Two weeks without seeing her friends or visiting the library seemed like an eternity. Back in the kitchen, she found her mother and Nancy still discussing what to do with the sweet bread. "We can't sell it as regular bread," Nancy was saying. "But maybe we could market it as a special item? Like a dessert bread or something?" Her mother looked skeptical. "I don't know. It's not one of our usual offerings." Rebecca spoke up, seeing an opportunity to make amends. "What if we called it 'Surprise Sweet Bread' and sold it as a limited-time special? We could say it's a new recipe we're trying out." Her mother and sister looked at her in surprise. After a moment, her mother nodded slowly. "That... might actually work. Good thinking, Rebecca." Rebecca felt a small burst of pride at the rare praise. Maybe she could turn this situation around after all. As they worked to repackage and label the bread, Rebecca's mind wandered to her plans for the evening. She'd have to find a way to let Sarah know she couldn't make it. The thought of missing out on the gathering – and the chance to see Jake – made her heart ache. The afternoon sun streamed through the bakery windows, casting long shadows across the flour-dusted counters. Rebecca and Nancy stood side by side, their hands working methodically as they prepared a large order of pastries for the upcoming town festival. The rhythmic sound of rolling pins and the soft patter of flour hitting the worktop filled the air. Rebecca sighed, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face. "How many more do we have to make?" Nancy glanced at the order sheet. "At least another three dozen. Why? Getting tired already?" "Tired? No," Rebecca replied, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Just bored." Nancy rolled her eyes. "Well, don't get any ideas. We need to finish this order before—" Her words were cut short as a small handful of flour hit her squarely in the face. She blinked, stunned, as Rebecca burst into laughter. "Rebecca!" Nancy spluttered, wiping flour from her eyes. "What do you think you're doing?" Rebecca grinned, already scooping up another handful. "Having a little fun. Come on, Nancy, live a little!" For a moment, Nancy looked torn between anger and amusement. Then, a slow smile spread across her face. "Oh, you're going to regret that." In an instant, the kitchen erupted into chaos. Flour flew through the air as the sisters chased each other around the room, their laughter echoing off the walls. Rebecca ducked behind a rack of cooling bread, only to emerge covered in a fresh layer of white powder. "Gotcha!" Nancy crowed, brandishing her rolling pin like a weapon. Rebecca retaliated by upending an entire bag of flour over her sister's head. Nancy shrieked with laughter, shaking herself like a dog and sending clouds of flour billowing around her. "Oh, it's on now," Nancy declared, grabbing a nearby sifter and wielding it like a shield. The girls circled each other, giggling and covered from head to toe in flour. Rebecca felt a warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with the heat of the ovens. It had been so long since she and Nancy had just... played like this. "Remember when we used to do this as kids?" Rebecca asked, dodging another flour missile. Nancy paused, a nostalgic smile on her face. "Yeah, I do. Mom would get so mad..." As if summoned by the mention of her name, Catherine's voice cut through their laughter like a knife. "What in heaven's name is going on here?"