The numbers were not encouraging. He had planned an ambitious production schedule so that Daniel's crew could see bread at different stages of preparation, and he also had regular customers who expected their orders. One oven meant smaller loads, longer waiting periods, and much less room for error. He tried three different schedules in his notebook and crossed them all out because each required him to be in two places at once.
At dawn he called the repair company and asked if they could identify a safe temporary solution. The technician confirmed what Ryan already suspected: the failed oven should remain disconnected until a qualified repair or replacement could be completed. Ryan thanked him, marked the unit clearly out of service, and turned away before the man could see how badly the answer had hurt. An unsafe oven would not become safe merely because he wanted to make a good impression on television.
The second blow came while Ryan was organizing the day's orders. His flour supplier called to explain that a scheduled delivery had been delayed by a transportation problem and might not arrive until after the crew had finished filming. The order contained the particular flour Ryan had spent weeks learning to use for his country loaves. Without it, he could not reproduce the bread Daniel had tasted, at least not by following the recipe he had finally made reliable.
"I can send a substitute," the supplier offered. Ryan asked about the source, the specifications, and the earliest possible arrival time. He was offered a partial load from a nearer warehouse, similar but not identical to the flour he used. The driver sounded apologetic, and Ryan fought the impulse to demand certainty that nobody on the other end of the call could honestly give.
He accepted the partial load, then asked whether he could collect it himself. The supplier agreed, provided the receiving paperwork was completed and the bags could be handled safely. Ryan arranged for Norah to cover the morning counter, borrowed a hand truck from the mechanic down the street, and drove toward the warehouse with the same uneasy concentration he once brought to a factory inspection. It was not a heroic journey; it was simply the least bad available answer.
On the drive, he called Daniel. He explained the situation without embellishment and told the producer the bakery could still be filmed, though the range of products might be smaller. Daniel offered to move the date if the schedule could accommodate it, but the crew had already booked several other locations and there was little room for rearrangement. Ryan appreciated the honesty and said he would call again if the food could not be made to his standard safely.
"You don't have to manufacture a miracle for our cameras," Daniel told him. Ryan gripped the wheel a little more tightly. "I'm not trying to," he said. "I'm trying not to waste the chance." Daniel answered that the chance had been offered because of the bread already being made on an ordinary morning, and no television episode was worth pretending otherwise.
The conversation helped, but it did not restore his flour or his oven. Ryan loaded the replacement bags into the pickup, secured them against shifting, and returned to the bakery before lunch. Norah had kept the counter moving and left him a list of customers who were willing to collect orders a day later if necessary. She had also written a note in the margin of the schedule: STOP TRYING TO MAKE TWO OVENS OUT OF ONE.