Pastry Mystery: Cheesecake Mistake

Libby sat all by herself in front of her late father’s memorial urn that she placed in his most favorite place in this world, his bakery shop. Pastry Mystery was the name of the deli—a name that Libby still found ridiculous until now. Her father didn’t choose to call it that way, it was a compliment from his loyal customers who was never sick of eating his Danish pastry after so many years. Danish wasn’t something that complicated to make since it only needed yeast, wheat flour, milk, eggs, sugar and a big amount of butter or margarine. Yet, nobody could make Danish as delightful as Jimmy Vanderbilt all over Amaranth Creek, although for Libby, it was the last thing she would ever want to eat. Her old man yet never felt offended by his only daughter’s remark. “One day, when I’m gone, you’re going to miss it,” teased her father all the time. He was right, he was gone already and deep down, Libby missed his Danish. It was very juvenile of her to not admit it, but it was always one of her traits to be stubborn. She ate the last Danish her father made two days ago before it went bad. Some people offered to buy Jimmy’s last handmade Danish for a few bucks, however, Libby refused to sell them. “I’m sorry but they almost go bad, I don’t want to sell cakes and bread that aren’t fresh anymore,” said Libby to her father’s faithful consumers. She lied, she wanted to keep them all by herself. She didn’t want to sell the last meal her father made with love and care to people. Her father raised her all by himself while running a bakery business and being the most selfless person in Amaranth Creek. Anytime they needed a help, in every circumstance, her father was always there to aid whatever he could. Libby was fostered by the people of Amaranth Creek since her parents divorced when she was merely two years old. She couldn’t remember much about her mother, even though she sent her cards every Christmas and on her birthday which was at exact same day. Libby knew she broke her father’s heart when she left to study and move to New York, but Jimmy smiled and supported her as always. She wanted to find her mother who, as far as she knew, lived there but after residing there for around five years she had never once met her. Libby came home on almost every holiday because she always missed her father, someone who truly understood her. She yet never at a single time confessed it to him. Now that he was gone, this Pastry Mystery was what left from her father and he expected her to continue his legacy. “Hey, I’m still eating it,” cried Libby when someone took her plate. She was still far from finishing her pecan pie. “You’re not eating it, you’re murdering it,” said that someone who had been watching her daydreaming and sticking a fork in her pecan pie in front of her father’s urn cynically. Libby spun around to see who was standing behind her. He was a tall, with dark brown hair and thick eyebrows. His handsome face was accented with strong jawlines and hollow cheeks. Libby would assume he was a model if she saw him randomly on the street, but it was obvious that he was her father’s baker, assistant and in fact, only worker. “Oh, you must be this Toby,” guessed Libby while extending her right hand for a handshake, but the guy in his late twenties who stood in front of her just turned himself around. Libby was completely dumbfounded—does he realize that I am now his new boss? “And you must be this Libby, who can’t cook at all,” mocked Toby. “Well, of course, I can, I’m just not a fan of it,” Libby refuted, “besides, you’re the one who will be responsible for whatever happened in the kitchen. Not me.” Toby sneered while putting on his apron. He then threw one at Libby but she caught it easily. “Unfortunately, you have to learn baking. It was your daddy’s wish,” announced Toby. “Says who?” “It was written on his wills, don’t you read it?” “Well…” Libby was at loss for words since she didn’t actually read her late father’s wills. She was there at the reading of his wills but she wasn’t paying attention since she knew it was merely about the bakery and that he wanted her to take over his business. “You seriously didn’t read your dad’s wills?” “I did, just not entirely,” said Libby in a low voice. Toby guffawed in disbelief. “Here,” Toby opened another copy of the wills that was for him. “Your dad wanted me to teach you baking. Now, hurry up. We don’t have much time left.” Libby read the letter thoroughly, he wasn’t lying. Her father indeed wanted her to learn baking and Toby was pointed to teach her until she mastered everything. Why would Daddy want me to learn baking? I thought he only wanted me to run his business, well… certainly, without the cooking part, she thought. “Can we start tomorrow? It’s almost time for supper,” asked Libby. “No, we start today. We have to get back to business soon,” answered Toby. “I’m not in the mood today. Come on, let’s do it tomorrow. We still have plenty of time before the reopening.” Toby scoffed, Libby began to hate him for his lacking attitude. “Do you actually know when are we going to open again?” “I don’t know. In a month?” Libby guessed carelessly. “No, in a week,” said Toby walking away to the kitchen. Libby was surprised to hear that but she didn’t show any excitement at all. ‘What would possibly be so difficult about baking?’ she thought. Libby put on an apron that belonged to her father. In a second a flood of memory washed off her mind. She hardly remembered the last time she went to Pastry Mystery’s kitchen—she grew up playing around at her father’s shop since they lived above it. She yet never once showed any interest in baking. When many of her friends in her high school wanted to do part-time job at her father’s shop, she worked in public library at the town hall instead. She didn’t even recall that she had ever bake something together with her father. When she lived in New York, she always got takeaways. The only thing she made was ramen and easy sandwich which didn’t really require many things to do. Now that her father was gone, she had to learn something that never interested her at all. “What should we make first?” asked Toby, awakened her from daydreaming, “Danish? Bet your daddy would love it.” Libby shrugged, “Beats me. What’s so difficult about making Danish anyway?” “Then show me what you can do,” challenged Toby, he didn’t like the way Libby took his occupation for granted. Libby walked to the big freezer behind Toby—she was looking for frozen pastry dough. “Oh, Daddy didn’t make any frozen dough?” Toby was dumbfounded to hear that. “Libby, I’ve been working here like three years and I’ve never ever once in my life seeing a frozen dough here. You know Jimmy always made everything fresh, right?” “I know, but I thought he’d kept some here. Isn’t it handy to keep some frozen ones, you know? Just in case if something happens,” she reasoned. “No. We’re not going to make a frozen ones whatsoever. We’re going to do it the way Jimmy did.” Libby yawned—she was tired and hungry. Toby didn’t let her finish her pecan pie and got her to work now. “Why do we still make Danish actually? Do people still buy it?” she wondered. Toby nodded, in fact, they always ran out of Danish every day. “You got to be kidding right? Eek! Aren’t you sick of eating it, like, daily?” “That’s the mystery, Libby. Jimmy’s Danish is just that good,” told Toby. Libby rolled her eyes, even though at heart she knew how delicious her father’s Danish was. “Why don’t we renew the menu? I mean, Japanese cotton cheesecakes are now popular,” she suggested. “No. We’re going to stay the way it always is. Now let’s get to work,” stated Toby clearly. “But, you know, the Japanese cheesecake…” “Less talking more working.” Libby sighed. She tied up her shoulder length hair in a ponytail and began to wash her hands. Toby handed her Jimmy’s original recipe but she refused to do it. She took out her smartphone to look up for Danish pastry recipe, ‘what would really be that different from any other recipe?’ she assumed. She took all purpose flour, eggs, yeast, margarine, salt, and sugar. She continued reading the recipe. “Dude!” she complained, “It takes forever to make! I’ll be starving to death if I have to wait for it.” “Then you better get started,” said Toby in a cold tone. Libby glared at him as if she could kill him with her eyes. She didn’t want to make Danish tonight and she didn’t want Toby to treat her like that—she was now his new boss. “No,” she had it enough. She took off her apron and folded it placed it nicely on the table, “I’m not going to make this tonight. I’m going upstairs and order a pizza. Would you like some? No? Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget to lock the door.” Toby was flabbergasted to see Libby walking away from the kitchen and went up to her living room. At first, when he knew Jimmy would inherit his shop to his daughter, he thought she could at least be easy to deal with since Jimmy was very much an angel. He knew from Jimmy that she was not accustomed to baking life, but he didn’t know that she would be this stubborn and difficult. “How is it possible that your daughter can’t bake at all?” Toby remembered his conversation with his late boss. “Because she was more of her mother, not me. I’m glad that she took after her, otherwise, she’d be ugly,” joked Jimmy long ago. Toby scoffed when he replayed his dialogue with his boss long ago—she indeed didn’t take after Jimmy, who was calm, patient and friendly. A few days later, Libby still didn’t want to learn to make Danish and used all kind of excuses to escape from Toby’s baking lesson. She stood firm that they had to renew their menu and added cheesecake to it. “it’s really popular now. Even they have any kind of cheesecakes café in New York. I bet you never tried the cotton cheesecake, it tastes heavenly,” she insisted but Toby still disagrees with her. They barely knew each other but they had been arguing since the beginning. Toby was yet such a dear, he always prepared breakfast for Jimmy’s daughter like how Jimmy used to do to him. Only this morning he didn’t have time since he had to go to the farm to get fresh eggs. Libby snooped around her house and she found nothing to eat. She ran downstairs since she was completely hungry. She thought Toby would be there and prepared her breakfast already for the past few days—but there was nothing as well. She didn’t feel like kneading dough early in the morning, even though a machine would do it, while she could figuratively eat a horse. She opened all the kitchen cabinets and she found an instant pancake mix. She read the instruction at the back of the packaging and all she needed was adding a certain amount of water. After making a pancake mixture, she heated up a griddle on its highest fire. She was supposed to grease the skillet lightly, instead, she added a too generous amount of butter. She scooped the batter onto the griddle and waited for the bottom to brown before flipping to the other side. The skillet was yet not warm enough. Libby didn’t have the patience for cooking and she started to be bored. She grabbed her smartphone to look for cotton cheesecake recipes. It looked easy, she thought. She checked the stuff in the cabinets and all the ingredients that she needed were available in the kitchen. She planned on making cheesecake before Toby came and surprised him later. She pictured Toby would praise her and admitted how wrong he was. Once their customers loved her cheesecakes, she would never let Toby take any credit on it. She prepared all her cotton cheesecake ingredients on the table. She supposed to whisk cream cheese, whipping cream and sugar in a double boiler technique but she didn’t have the patience for it. Instead, she places a hot boiled water, from a water boiler, on a larger pan and places the bowl with those three ingredients over it. The batter of course clotted but she kept on whisking. She was too immerse at her cotton cheesecake until she forgot her pancake on the skillet. When she finally smelt something burning, she remembered that she was making her breakfast but it was too late. “Oh my god!” she cried, the griddle was on fire. Instead of turning off the stove first, she grabbed a towel to pick up the unbelievable hot pan, but the fire caught the cloth. She threw it away immediately but the fire got bigger reached other stuff in the kitchen. She picked up a glass of water and threw it to the fire but it didn’t help. Suddenly there was someone coming from her back and put out the fire with a fire extinguisher—it was Toby who just got back from the farm. “What on earth are you doing?” yelled Toby after he extinguished the fire. He opened all the windows in the kitchen. “I- I was just making pancake for breakfast,” answered Libby—she was still scared. She then explained to Toby that she was trying to make cheesecake and she got carried away until she forgot her pancake. Toby couldn’t help but scold her. Libby cried and ran back upstairs. Toby felt that he was too hard on her but what she did really was dangerous. Toby was cleaning up the mess Libby made when she came back to the kitchen. She returned quicker than what Toby had expected. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. She locked Toby’s eyes in hers—anger was drawn clearly in her hazel eyes. “Toby, I’m going to sell Pastry Mystery,” announced Libby firmly.