The secret bake Leni Korhonen The secret bake “I have been a wid- ower for many years now,” he began, his voice steady but quiet. Leni Korhonen An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C Ovi ebooks are available in Ovi/Ovi eBookshelves pages and they are for free. If somebody tries to sell you an Ovi book please contact us immediately. For details, contact: ovimagazine@yahoo.com No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior permission of the writer or the above publisher of this book The secret bake The secret bake Leni Korhonen Leni Korhonen An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C The secret bake T he sun had barely begun to dip below the hills when the Miller family gathered at the dinner table, a habit they’d kept for years until now. There was a certain unease that hung in the air, and it was no secret that this evening’s meal would be unlike any other. Mr. Samuel Miller, patriarch of the family, had decided it was time to reveal a secret that had been buried deep within him for the better part of a decade. As the clattering of plates faded, a strange silence descended. All eyes were on the elderly Mr. Miller, who sat at the head of the table, his silver hair as untamed as his mind, though his eyes remained sharp and calculating, as always. His daughter, Margaret, watched him with a furrowed brow. Her husband, Robert, seemed unaware of the tension, while their children, Anne and Thomas, sat fidgeting, sensing the unusual heaviness in the air. They knew something was amiss. Leni Korhonen “Father, you seem out of sorts tonight,” Margaret ventured, her voice laced with concern. “Is something troubling you?” Mr. Miller, a man of few words, looked from his daughter to his son-in-law before settling his gaze on his grandchildren. Then, with a deep breath, he made his confession. “I have been a widower for many years now,” he began, his voice steady but quiet. “But I did not remain alone in my heart, nor in my actions. Some time ago, I married again.” Margaret’s hand froze mid-motion as she was about to lift her glass. “Married? Married again?” she echoed, her voice rising in disbelief. “Yes, Margaret,” he said calmly, his eyes never leaving her face. “To Mrs. Evelyn Green, the baker. I married her in complete secrecy.” For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath. Robert looked confused. Anne raised an eyebrow, unsure if her grandfather was being serious. Thomas, the youngest, had no such reservations and burst out laughing, thinking it a jest. “But Father!” Margaret said, her voice a mixture of The secret bake disbelief and indignation. “How could you marry in secret? Without informing the family?” Mr. Miller met her gaze firmly, his voice carrying an undercurrent of regret. “You must understand, Margaret, that there were reasons. We were both older, her, a widow, and I, one who had long been resigned to solitude. We found solace in each other’s company. The world does not understand the nature of a quiet love, and so we chose not to burden others with it.” “But why not tell us?” Margaret’s voice was strained now, her emotions rising. “Why keep such a secret from your own children, from your own family?” “Because,” Mr. Miller said, his eyes softening as he glanced toward the corner where a fire crackled quietly in the hearth, “there was no need. Evelyn and I, we were content. And I did not wish to upset you all with something so... unconventional.” “And you think we would not have understood?” Margaret exclaimed, rising to her feet, her face flushed with emotion. “How could you keep us in the dark all this time, while we carried on with our lives, thinking you were the same as before?” Leni Korhonen “Evelyn and I have shared a life together, Margaret,” he replied quietly, standing up from the table now. “And though it may have seemed strange to you, I ask only for your understanding.” “I cannot understand this!” Margaret cried out, her voice trembling. “How could you be so selfish?” Mr. Miller, though shaken by his daughter’s reaction, stood his ground. “I have not been selfish, Margaret. I have sought only peace. And if you cannot accept that, then perhaps it is better that I leave you all to your own thoughts.” The words hung in the air like a thick fog, and as Margaret’s temper flared, the room fell into a heavy silence. The secret bake I. The evening was heavy with an air of unresolved tension, and the sound of the clock striking ten echoed through the Miller household. In the dimly lit drawing room, the family sat in an uncomfortable silence. Margaret, still recovering from the shock of her father’s revelation, had retreated to her chambers earlier that evening. She was not a woman prone to displays of emotion, but tonight had shaken her to her very core. It was not merely the betrayal she had uncovered, but the very weight of her father’s actions, which seemed to taint everything she had once believed to be true about him. Robert, her ever-patient husband, had attempted to soothe their children, offering gentle reassurances to little George, whose brow furrowed in confusion, and to Lily, whose bright eyes were shadowed by Leni Korhonen concern. But Robert’s mind was still occupied with the difficult task that awaited him in the drawing room, where Margaret’s determination to confront her father seemed inevitable. As the family gathered once again, the atmosphere was thick with a silence so palpable it could almost be felt. Margaret entered the room, her posture rigid, her eyes flashing with a determined fire. It was clear that she had made up her mind. “I must speak with Evelyn,” she said, her voice firm and unyielding. “This... this matter cannot go unanswered.” Robert turned his gaze toward her, his expression one of quiet contemplation. He knew his wife well; she was not a woman to let matters of such gravity go unchallenged. But he also knew that her father, a man of high esteem in their circles, had a way of deflecting scrutiny, particularly when it suited him. “Margaret, you know I stand by you,” Robert said softly, “but perhaps you should consider that your father has acted in a way he believes is best. He seems intent on protecting his own peace.” “Protecting his peace?” Margaret repeated, the The secret bake words spilling from her lips in disbelief. “What about mine? Or yours, for that matter? I cannot bear the thought of this secret going unnoticed, while he and that baker woman live in bliss.” Her voice quivered with a mixture of fury and sorrow, as though the betrayal was not merely against her, but against everything she had known. Robert moved closer, his hand gently resting on her arm. “You know, my dear, sometimes, people make decisions that others cannot understand. But perhaps, in this case, the question should not be what he has done, but why.” Margaret’s gaze sharpened, and a flash of anger crossed her features. “I know why,” she muttered darkly, her voice low. “It is because he has never thought to take us into account.” Robert’s face softened with concern, but he said nothing. He understood his wife’s pain, but he also knew that confronting her father would bring about a storm of consequences neither of them could fully anticipate. Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Thomas sat at the table, absently stirring a cup of tea, a quiet, almost mischievous smile playing at the corners of his lips. Leni Korhonen He had been listening to the heated exchanges above, and while he was far from understanding all the nuances, he felt a certain thrill in the knowledge that the world around him was shifting, its secrets slowly unraveling. Anne, his older sister, entered the room with a purposeful step, her brow furrowed in that way she had when something piqued her interest. She observed Thomas for a moment, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What are you thinking, Thomas?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Thomas looked up at her with a grin that seemed far too knowing for a boy of his years. “I think... this is far from over. There are more surprises yet to come, don’t you think?” Anne raised an eyebrow, a little taken aback by his boldness. “You’re too young to understand the gravity of the situation,” she said, her voice tinged with the kind of admonition that only an older sibling could muster. “Perhaps,” Thomas said, his grin widening, “but you are not.” Anne rolled her eyes and sighed. “You have much The secret bake to learn about the world, Thomas. It’s not all games and intrigue.” But Thomas merely leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant and thoughtful. “And yet, you don’t deny that something is afoot.” Anne paused. Her gaze softened as she glanced over her brother, who was not so much a child in this moment as a young man with an intuition that far surpassed his years. “I suppose not,” she admitted quietly. “But that does not make it any easier to understand.” The night stretched on, each tick of the clock marking the passing of another moment filled with uncertainty. The Millers sat in their drawing room, their individual thoughts swirling like the storm outside. Margaret’s thoughts were consumed by her father’s deception, and the bitterness of feeling betrayed by the very man who should have protected her gnawed at her insides. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Margaret stood abruptly, her resolve hardening. “I cannot wait any longer,” she declared, her voice resolute. “I will not allow this to go unanswered.” Leni Korhonen Robert rose to his feet, his face filled with concern. “Margaret, I know you are angry...” “Angry?” she interrupted, her voice trembling with emotion. “Anger cannot even begin to describe how I feel. But I will not let him hide behind his excuses. I will confront him, and I will make him explain himself.” As Margaret moved toward the door, Robert caught her arm, his grip gentle yet firm. “Please, my love,” he said quietly, his voice soft with care. “Be careful. You may not be able to return from this once you’ve gone down that path.” Margaret looked at him, her gaze hard and unwavering. “And yet, I must. For all our sakes.” In the kitchen, Thomas turned to Anne, who had been watching the scene unfold with quiet contemplation. “Do you think she’ll succeed?” he asked softly. Anne shook her head, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “I don’t know. But I fear the truth will have a price.” As Margaret disappeared up the staircase, her mind set on what she must do, the air in the house seemed The secret bake to grow colder, more still. It was clear that the secrets of the past would not remain buried for long, and the Miller household would never be the same again. The hours ticked on, and outside, the wind howled through the trees, as though in warning. In the drawing room, Robert sank into a chair, his face troubled. He had no doubt that this confrontation would unravel more than just secrets, it would change the course of their lives, forever. Leni Korhonen II. The following afternoon, the Miller household was gripped by an uneasy quiet. Margaret had insisted on meeting Mrs. Evelyn Green, the local baker, and now, as the clock struck two, the awaited visitor was about to arrive. Margaret sat in the parlor, her fingers nervously tapping on the armrest, her mind swirling with thoughts of what she would say, what she would demand to know. Her father had made it clear that the meeting would take place in a manner of his choosing, but Margaret had determined that she could no longer remain passive. She needed answers, and she needed them now. The secret of this marriage had cast a shadow over everything, her father’s sudden cheerfulness, the curious way he had grown more withdrawn these past months and it was time for that shadow to be dispelled. The secret bake There came a soft knock at the door, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone entering with a quiet dignity. Mrs. Evelyn Green had arrived. Margaret stood immediately, her posture stiff and her expression one of strained politeness. She had, of course, heard much about Mrs. Green. The widow who ran the bakery was known for her taste in fine confections and her reputation for being somewhat aloof, a woman who preferred solitude and simplicity to the trappings of social bustle. But no amount of gossip had prepared Margaret for the woman who now stood before her. Mrs. Green was dressed in a simple but elegant gown of deep blue, her silver hair carefully arranged in soft waves. She entered with the graceful confidence of someone accustomed to handling the demands of both life and death with equal composure. Her eyes, a clear and quiet grey, met Margaret’s with an air of calm familiarity, as though their confrontation was the most natural course of events. “Mrs. Miller,” she said softly, inclining her head. “I hope I did not disturb you by coming uninvited.” Margaret forced a smile, though it did not quite reach her eyes. “Not at all, Mrs. Green. I simply wish Leni Korhonen to understand why you have chosen to keep this secret from us.” Evelyn paused, her expression neither defensive nor apologetic. Instead, it was one of quiet understanding, as if she had anticipated the question and was prepared to answer with a patience that only a woman of her years could possess. “I understand your confusion, dear,” she began, her voice as soft and measured as her gaze. “But as I told Samuel, secrecy was not born from ill intentions. It was merely a way to protect what we had.” “Protect it?” Margaret echoed, her voice sharp with incredulity. “And what exactly did you think you were protecting? My father has spent the better part of his life in solitude, and now you ask us to accept this marriage without explanation? What of our feelings? What of my own?” Evelyn’s brow furrowed slightly, but she did not shrink from Margaret’s questioning gaze. “Perhaps the explanation lies not in words, but in actions. Samuel has been content, and I, too, have found joy in this quiet union. We have done no harm. If we have acted in a manner that has caused you distress, I regret it deeply, but I must ask you to consider the joy The secret bake we have found in each other’s company. Surely, that counts for something?” Margaret could not contain her frustration. “Joy?” she asked, her voice rising. “Is this the joy you spoke of when you came into my father’s life? That his family, his own flesh and blood, should be cast aside as an afterthought? Do you truly expect me to believe that this secrecy was done for our benefit, rather than for your own convenience?” At this, Evelyn’s eyes narrowed, but not in anger. Instead, there was a flicker of something that Margaret could not immediately place something like a sadness, or perhaps a weariness that transcended mere irritation. “You are angry, and rightly so,” Evelyn said quietly, her voice not accusatory but understanding. “But you must know that we did not act in malice. Your father and I have shared a bond that neither time nor grief could diminish. When I first lost my husband, I thought that I would never know happiness again. But Samuel...” She stopped, her hand fluttering to her chest for a brief moment. “Samuel gave me something I had thought lost to me forever: a reason to smile. A reason to live. And that, dear Margaret, was something worth protecting.” Leni Korhonen Margaret’s lips parted, but no immediate words came. She had intended to be harsh, to challenge Evelyn’s every word, but now, she found herself caught off guard. The quiet sorrow in Evelyn’s tone, the sincerity of her confession, made Margaret feel suddenly vulnerable. For all her anger, for all her righteous indignation, she had not considered the possibility that Evelyn might be as lonely as her father had been, or that her motivations might not be driven by selfishness, but by something far more complex. “And yet,” Margaret said, her voice quieter now, her sharpness tempered by a hesitant uncertainty, “why could you not have shared this with us? We are not strangers, after all. We are your family now.” Evelyn sighed deeply, as if the question itself carried a heavy weight. “Perhaps we were wrong,” she admitted, her voice tinged with regret. “But there is something sacred in the simplicity of shared companionship, Margaret. We wanted no interference, no advice, no judgment. Samuel and I were content in the quiet of our home. We were not looking for the approval of others, we only wanted to live in peace, and to savor the joy that we had found.” Margaret felt the stirrings of something deep within