On Thin Icing Read Online Free

together.”
    Mom picked up the dishtowel again and flung it at him. “Sterling, how can you say that? Isn’t dazzling comfort exactly what we make here at Torte?”
    Sterling held up the towel in surrender. “You’ve got me there, Helen.”
    “I heard good things about your lasagna last weekend,” Stephanie said.
    “Okay.” I scratched notes on the paper. “We start with morning pastries. Maybe one day we can do a warm egg dish. Lunch should be easy. We can do sandwiches on homemade bread.”
    “And stew,” Mom said.
    “Yes, and definitely stew.” I made a note, as we mapped out a menu and supply list.
    I spent the remainder of the morning feeling the familiar jitter of a new challenge. I hadn’t been to Lake of the Woods since I was a kid. Spending the weekend at a remote high-mountain lodge and putting my culinary skills to the test sounded perfect.
    Only I would soon come to learn that much more than pastry was on the menu for the weekend.

 
    Chapter Three
    The next week passed quickly. I had plenty to do with getting ready to cater Lance’s retreat and managing Torte. Mom promised that she had things under control. I knew she did. I just didn’t want to burden her. One of the best things about coming home had been that I was able to lighten her load a little. During some of the leaner years after the recession hit, Mom had struggled to keep Torte afloat. Her kind heart and generosity were a strength, but they could also be a weakness when it came to money.
    I had learned last summer that Mom had lent money to half of the town. I appreciated how much she cared about her friends and fellow business owners, but I also knew that if we wanted Torte to see another thirty years it meant that we had to cinch our purse strings a bit tighter. Catering clients and Sunday suppers were both helping to put our profit margin back in the black.
    Sterling took an active role in preparing for the weekend. I took him along to meet with our vendors so he could get a feel for the business side of running a bakeshop. By the end of the week we had amassed enough fresh fruit, vegetables, herbs, meats, and cheeses to pack the back of Mom’s car. I did one final check of our supply list, before taking Mom’s keys. She sent us on our way with a bag of hot-from-the-oven snickerdoodles, and Andy made us snowflake lattes to go.
    I offered to drive. It had been years since I’d taken a road trip. I remembered the winding route to Lake of the Woods from my childhood. My parents used to bring me to the resort every Labor Day weekend. They would arrange for friends to run the shop for the weekend, and we’d pack our station wagon and head out to the lodge for the final days of summer.
    Lake of the Woods sits at almost five thousand feet above sea level. The lake was formed from a volcanic eruption thousands of years ago. Getting to the high-altitude lodge was an adventure in itself. The most direct route from Ashland would take us on Dead Indian Road. I told Sterling to buckle up as we pulled out of town and made our way toward the winding road. The road cuts through the Siskiyou National Forest, twisting past sharp corners and down curves without a shoulder. Its name pays homage to the Native Americans who belonged to the land long before white settlers made their way west. I couldn’t help wonder as I navigated the dangerous road if there was more to its meaning.
    “This is a crazy ride.” Sterling broke my concentration as I slowed around a hairpin turn.
    “I know. I’d kind of forgotten how scary it is.” My fingers clenched the steering wheel. They were all bare, even my ring finger. I hadn’t worn my wedding ring for months, but I still caught myself feeling for it sometimes.
    “You want some tunes to distract you?” he asked, removing his phone from the front pocket of his hoodie. Sterling’s wardrobe consists of hoodies and jeans no matter the weather.
    “That would be great.” I couldn’t imagine driving the