Christmas in Morgan’s Ridge was the same as in any other small community. The former boomtown had seen its share of highs and lows and this was certainly a high time of celebration. The neighboring towns of Crossville and Fairly had been the first to benefit from the growth of logging in the mountains. Now growth had come to Morgan’s Ridge to stay.
But Christmas meant something completely different to Pemberton Bakery. Christmas meant more customers. More customers meant more cakes, pies, cookies and donuts…and that meant more money. Pemberton Bakery was famous for their delicious treats but never more than during December of each year.
Carl Pemberton knew nothing about being a baker when he purchased the business from George Carter twenty-three years ago. It was a risk very few people felt would pay off but Carl knew it would, it had to. He saw the potential in this town with one church, a general store, dirt roads and 20 families. His wife, Ruth, and his ten year old son, Pete, moved into the apartment upstairs above the bakery.
As time passed, the business grew in ways more successful than Carl had ever imagined. Pete was the reason why. He was more savvy and business-minded than his frontier style parents. Their simple and tiny world of small ideas had been the bane of Pete’s existence. Being without siblings, it was only right that Pete take over Pemberton Bakery when Carl & Ruth passed away. Without the constraints placed on him by his parents, Pete, now thirty-three, set out to have the world at his feet and all who knew him had no doubt that he would do so in short measure. Despite his disdain for the tough-as-nails, no nonsense nature of his father, Pete had inherited Carl’s tenacity…and the Manger Cake.
The past year had been one of tremendous change at Pemberton Bakery under the solitary rule of Pete. Even though the business had provided a more than comfortable living, Pete wanted more. Carl had been on his own since the age of 13 when he left home following an argument with his parents. He had always been a restless child and wanted more than to spend his years in his version of solitary confinement tucked so far back into the hills that news of the outside world would be years old by the time it reached him.
So, he left and never turned back. Over the years he never spoke of his parents. It was as if Carl was born thirteen years old. Pete knew of his father’s work cutting timber and working in the saw mill. The scars and calluses told stories all their own. Carl would often say “I’m a self-made man. And that’s the only kind of man to be.” He ingrained this notion into Pete.
Now it was his turn to fulfill the destiny he saw so clearly before him. And he would start with the Manger Cake.
Fifty years ago, George Carter and his wife Abigail had moved to Morgan’s Grove from St. Louis. John had been an immensely successful business man. His empire spread from textiles to flour to investments. Along the way, he had amassed a considerable fortune, of which every need and desire was readily available to Abigail and their daughter Eleanor. The family was without want and they were content.
Abigail had not been accustomed to the type of comfort that John had always known. She was born in simple circumstances and surroundings but seemed to possess a soul out of place in her environment. She was different and everyone could see it. She was strong, confident and at ease in all situations and stations of culture. She thirsted for knowledge and education, not as a means to escape her home, but due to an insatiable curiosity of the world. She imagined the places she had heard about. Paris. London. Madrid. Brazil.
George met Abigail quite by accident. She happened to be at his textile store admiring the new shipment of French fabric when he saw her. She carried herself in a manner he had not seen before…and he was instantly in love with the statuesque woman of auburn hair and green eyes before him. He learned from friends that her name was Abby; at least that is what everyone called her. George suspected that her full name was Abigail, and he was right. In his eyes, she was Abigail, a queen not to be referred to in such a common way as Abby. They were destined to meet and so they did. After a brief courtship, they were married. Two years later, Eleanor was born. George now had his queen and his princess. Everyone knew her as Ellie, but he called her Eleanor.
George’s businesses continued to grow. Ellie took after her mother with her dreams of far off places and adventure. She was her mother made over in a smaller form, right down to the auburn hair and green eyes. Abby soon learned that she was with child but the news from her doctor came with a warning.
“You must get away from the city. Your condition is frail and I fear the stress of carrying this child in such hectic surroundings as existing for you here would be detrimental”
George’s heart fell when he heard the news. But for him the decision was easy. He had been hounded for years by companies interested in acquiring his business. Without hesitation or a second thought, he took the offer and he moved his family to Morgan’s Ridge.
George’s mother had enjoyed baking. He remembered how wonderful the house always smelled when she made bread, pies and cakes. So, George decided to start a bakery in this small town. He purchased an abandoned two story building and the family moved in upstairs. Before long, Carter’s Cake Shop opened.
George didn’t know it at the time, but his tiny bakery would become the home of the original Manger Cake.
(to be continued)
