The sequel to Judith Ryan Hendricks' absorbing debut novel, Bread Alone Having found her calling, Wynter Morrison is blissful about her new career in Seattle as a baker -- cherishing the long days spent making bread and the comforting rhythms of the Queen Street Bakery. Still, she struggles with the legacy of her failed marriage and with her new boyfriend Mac's reluctance to share his mysterious past. When Mac abruptly leaves Seattle, Wyn again feels abandoned and betrayed, at least until intimate letters arrive in which Mac at last reveals his deepest secrets. But the more she learns about her absent lover, the more Wyn discovers about herself -- and when tragedy threatens, she will have to decide if there is a place for Mac in this new life she has made. “Food talk, romance and recipes―what more could a reader want?” - The Santa Fe New Mexican “Hendricks rolls out a delicious sequel in Baker’s Apprentice... Prepare to have your appetite teased and stimulated, often.” - Seattle Post-Intelligencer “Warm and savory… Bakers will welcome the recipes that Hendricks includes.” - Publishers Weekly “[An] engagnig sequel... a fulfilling and happy reading experience.” - Booklist The sequel to Judith Ryan Hendricks' absorbing debut novel, Bread Alone Having found her calling, Wynter Morrison is blissful about her new career in Seattle as a baker -- cherishing the long days spent making bread and the comforting rhythms of the Queen Street Bakery. Still, she struggles with the legacy of her failed marriage and with her new boyfriend Mac's reluctance to share his mysterious past. When Mac abruptly leaves Seattle, Wyn again feels abandoned and betrayed, at least until intimate letters arrive in which Mac at last reveals his deepest secrets. But the more she learns about her absent lover, the more Wyn discovers about herself -- and when tragedy threatens, she will have to decide if there is a place for Mac in this new life she has made. A former journalist, copywriter, computer instructor, travel agent, waitress, and baker, Judith Ryan Hendricks is the author of three previous novels, including the bestseller Bread Alone . She and her husband live in New Mexico. The Baker's Apprentice A Novel By Judith Hendricks HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. Copyright © 2006 Judith Hendricks All right reserved. ISBN: 0060726180 Chapter One Seattle, September 1989 Linda LaGardia is about the most annoying human being I've ever met. Irascible, embittered, humorless, devoid of common courtesy -- and that's on a good day. Fortunately, she's also totally lacking in imagination, one of those people who seems to go through life with her head down, watching her feet take each plodding step. Fortunately, because that means she's generally tooself-absorbed to really get in anyone's way. Much as she can't standme, most of the time she simply acts like I don't exist. All through our shift tonight, she's been singing little tuneless songs under her breath, muttering to herself about her kids, Paige and Ed Jr., and her no-good scumbag of an ex-husband, Ed Sr., who's been dead now for over six months. I'm standing, she's sitting at the worktable shaping loaves of cheese bread and dropping them into oiled pans. "Yeah, I went to the doctor yesterday," she says from out of the blue. Caught off guard, I can't suppress a chuckle. It's so totally out of character for her to start a conversation. "Somethin' funny about that?" "Not about going to the doctor. I just think it's funny that you want to talk to me about it. I've been working here for over a year now, and we've never had any kind of meaningful dialogue before. That I recall." "That's because you're always runnin' your mouth or playin' that god-awful screechin' music." I close my eyes. "Oh, right. Now I remember." "Last time he said my blood pressure's too high." "How high?" She waves her hand dismissively. "A hundred and eighty." "Over what?" "What d'ya mean over what? A hundred-eighty's what he said." "Blood pressure is usually two numbers, like one-eighty over one-ten or something like that." "Ahh, who knows. He was throwin' all kinds of numbers around." A few minutes later she says, "He wants me to take some tests." "What kind?" I keep my eyes on the bread in front of me. "Stress test or somethin'." She detaches the dough hook from one of the Hobarts, carries it to the sink, then hesitates, lost in some internal debate. She turns on the water, then abruptly turns it off. "I don't guess you'd know what it is?" The tone of voice is so unlike her that I turn around. "What what is?" "Stress test," she mumbles. She scrubs the dough hook furiously. "Didn't the doctor tell you?" " 'Course he didn't tell me. They never tell ya nothin' if they can help it." "They just hook you up to these electrodes -- " "Electr -- ?" She makes a little sputter of alarm. "Does it shock ya?" "No, no. It doesn't hurt. You just walk on this treadmill and they read your heart rate. It's not