A TV School (Hera's Bakery)

This story starts here.
I hadn't intended to start working with the Thistles this early, but I must admit this has been very fun.

Nicholas pulled the baklava out of the oven. It was Saturday and he knew that his little Helia would be bursting through the doors shouting...
"Where's my baklava!" Helia kissed her father's forehead and leaned over to inhale the fragarant pastry.
"No baklava for you until I count my grandchildren." he said.
"Papa that could take all day!" Helia laughed.
"My little ones, from my baby Helia. I will be right back, let it cool. You will burn your fingers. Nicholas popped through the doors into the retail room. There was Dolores sweet talking Christopher after demanding her gingerbread--green-eyed, gingerbread people, no blue. Nicholas smiled as she bit the heads off. Quade must have slipped by him in search of Hera, those two were inseparable. Niko and Demetra were schmoozing customers hoping to top their sale's record from last week. Nicholas had promised a trip to the opera if they could. And there was Penny, sweet little Penny, sitting with Alistaire. They were both looking rather unhappy about a plate of scones in front of them. That could only mean one thing.
"Hera! Have you been baking again?" Nicholas burst out.
Several customers looked shocked, but old hands snorted. It was a well-known secret that Hera didn't bake. This was a true mercy and a great benefit to the business's bottom line--as were her beautifully decorated wedding cakes. When they had started the business neither of them knew how to make more than baklava, but Hera knew a little about decorating cakes. So, Nicholas had stationed his lovely young wife in the window decorating cakes he floundered through baking. For twenty years she'd drawn in customers and become a legend in the wedding business, but she never learned how to bake.
Hera looked discomforted and pushed Nicholas in the back.
"I simply made the boy a tray of his mother's scones. The boy needs a little taste of home."
"This wouldn't have anything to do with talking those young people into taking over Sophia's apartment, would it?"
"Maybe a little. Your baklava has Helia showing up right on time every Saturday. Perhaps some scones would get the proud Presbyterian to move in."
"In that case, Hera, let me make Penelope Thistle's scones. I love you. You know I love you, but you can't bake!"
Hera fixed him with a stare that had withered many a bride. "I taught you everything you know about baking, and don't you forget it."
Nicholas gave up. "Where is Quade?" he asked.
"I don't know, maybe he went upstairs?"
"Go, find the boy, and leave the baking to me."

This story continues here.