Married Before Midnight by Sienna Quinn - Chapter 4

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Married Before Midnight by Sienna Quinn


Chapter 4: The Icing on the Truth


The morning sun had barely risen when Eleanor Carter slipped out of the house, her husband still asleep, his breathing labored from the illness that had confined him to bed. She had already washed him, changed his sheets, and left a simple breakfast by his bedside—oatmeal with a drizzle of honey, the way he liked it. The younger girls—Charlotte, Lillian, and Emily—had been dressed and fed, their braids neat, their lunch pails packed. Olivia, ever the responsible one, had left for school on her own, her face set in quiet determination. Now, Eleanor stood in the back room of Sweet Haven Bakery, tying her apron with practiced hands. The scent of yeast and sugar filled the air, mingling with the warmth of the ovens. Flour dusted the countertops, and trays of golden croissants cooled on the racks. She had been working here for years, ever since Henry’s health had declined, and though the pay was meager, it kept food on the table. Brenda Miller, the other baker, barely glanced at her as she rolled out dough with unnecessary force. Brenda had never liked Eleanor—perhaps because the customers always complimented Eleanor’s delicate pastries, or because Eleanor never indulged in the bakery’s gossip.


Today, though, Brenda’s lips were pressed into a smug line, her eyes darting toward the front counter where Mrs. Delaney, a regular customer, was chatting with the owner, Mr. Thompson. Eleanor didn’t notice the tension at first. She was too focused on shaping the dough for the afternoon’s cinnamon rolls, humming softly under her breath. But then Mrs. Delaney’s voice rose in distress. “My bracelet! It’s gone—I must have left it on the counter when I paid!” Mr. Thompson frowned, patting his pockets as if the jewelry might have magically slipped into them. “We’ll check the register area, Mrs. Delaney. Don’t worry.” Brenda immediately straightened, wiping her hands on her apron. “I’ll help look,” she offered, her voice dripping with false concern. Eleanor kept working, only glancing up when Brenda suddenly gasped. “Oh my goodness—Eleanor, what’s this?” All eyes turned as Brenda dramatically pulled a glittering silver bracelet from the box of leftover pastries—the same box Eleanor always took home for the children. Eleanor’s hands stilled. “I—I didn’t put that there.” Brenda’s eyes widened in mock shock. “It was just sitting right here, in your box. Are you saying you didn’t take it?” The accusation hung in the air like the scent of burnt sugar. Mrs. Delaney’s face paled, and Mr. Thompson’s brow furrowed. Eleanor’s throat tightened. She had never stolen so much as a crumb in her life. “I would never—” “Mama?” A small voice cut through the tension. Hannah stood in the doorway, her schoolbag slung over one shoulder, her sharp eyes taking in the scene. At ten years old, she was already observant in a way that unsettled adults. Brenda scoffed. “This doesn’t concern you, child.” Hannah ignored her, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?” Eleanor forced a smile. “Nothing, sweetheart. Just a misunderstanding.” But Hannah’s gaze locked onto the bracelet in Brenda’s hand. Then she tilted her head. “That’s pretty. But why is there blue icing on it?” Silence. Mrs. Delaney blinked. “Icing?” Hannah pointed. “There. Little smudges of blue. Mama never uses blue icing—she says it stains too much.” Brenda’s face twitched. “That’s ridiculous. It must have gotten on there some other way.” Hannah’s voice was calm, matter-of-fact. “But you were the only one using blue today. For those fancy cookies with the little flowers. I saw them when I walked in.” Mr. Thompson’s expression darkened. He took the bracelet, examining it closely. Sure enough, tiny streaks of blue decorated the silver links. Brenda’s cheeks flushed. “I—I don’t know how that got there!” Hannah folded her arms. “Maybe when you hid it in Mama’s box?”


The truth settled over the room like flour sifting through a sieve. Mr. Thompson’s jaw tightened. “Brenda. My office. Now.” As Brenda spluttered protests, Mrs. Delaney exhaled in relief, clasping her recovered bracelet. “Oh, thank goodness. And Eleanor—I’m so sorry for doubting you.” Eleanor could only nod, her hands trembling slightly. But when she looked at Hannah, her heart swelled. Her clever, brave girl. Later, as they walked home together, the box of pastries tucked under Hannah’s arm, Eleanor squeezed her daughter’s shoulder. “You were amazing today.” Hannah shrugged, but a small, proud smile tugged at her lips. “Brenda’s mean. She shouldn’t get away with it.” Eleanor kissed the top of her head. “No, she shouldn’t.” The victory was small, but it mattered. In a world that often felt unkind, they had each other.