Chapter 7
Chloe
I hummed to myself as I kneaded the dough for a French loaf. I always did that. Today it was my pitiful version of Chris Daughtry’s song “Home.” A pinch in my lower back caused me to stop what I was doing and rock back on my heels. It was Thursday, which for me was the way Monday was for most people: the beginning of my work week. As tired as I was, I was not looking forward to the raucous Mardi Gras crowd at Lulu’s over the next five days.
Wiping my brow with the back of my hand, I was about to start rolling out the dough when I heard a familiar voice in the front of the bakery.
“I’m so glad you could make it by.” I heard Mrs. Bain schmooze.
The voice was male, and I couldn’t quite place who it was, but it had me curious. Wiping my hands across the front of my apron,
