CHAPTER 6
***
Eisley
Town Hall buzzes with energy as small business owners gather to discuss the newest glitch in keeping businesses like mine alive and growing. I’m heartened to see so many turn out. We need community involvement and those willing to speak up for what’s right. Goodness knows I’d crumple into a blubbering mess if I had to address the room myself. I’m not a fighter, but I will support those better suited to address the crowd. My stomach’s already a torrent of butterflies swooping and fluttering their wings. I haven’t been this nervous since Beau and I danced the night away at Grace and Tom’s wedding.
Funny how the right client at the right time can change the trajectory of a person’s life, for better or worse. If it weren’t for friends of friends and former clients spreading the word about my business, I wouldn’t have met Grace or run into Beau again. Our paths might never have crossed. But they did, and I’m over the moon about it.
I double-check the agenda for the night’s meeting. Usually, I’m not one to get involved in politics and mundane laws that keep a town running, but tonight’s agenda affects me personally. I’ve always said that busybody baking police and overachieving negative reviewers are the bane of every small business barely scraping by. Tonight, cottage businesses like mine are on the chopping block.
Home businesses are held to the same standard as restaurant kitchens. Health inspectors drop by for surprise inspections. My kitchen is subject to the same white-glove scrutiny as the burger joint on Fifth and Main. But my license has more limitations. I can participate in farmer’s markets and pop-up stands, but I can’t set up a lemonade stand and sell muffins or eclairs. But I can cater, deliver, and bake to my heart’s content.
Chatter becomes louder as the room fills with concerned citizens from both sides of the issue. Hope and Sage from Hot Mess Catering and Dessert First crowd into the seats beside me. They started like me, doing business in their cramped kitchens until they gathered enough funds for a commercial space.
“Looks like a full turnout.” Sage tucks her purse under her seat and glances around the room. “Let’s give ‘em hell, ladies.”
“We should hear everyone out before we make snap judgments,” Hope says. “There’s room for everyone at the table, and everyone’s voice needs to be heard.”
I know she’s right, but I’m protective of the mom-and-pop start-ups and starry-eyed dreamers whose only goal is to bring others happiness while doing something they love. Without the cottage industry clause, we’re sunk before we set sail.
“Ever the voice of reason.” Sage snickers. “How’d the wedding on Saturday go?”
“It was wonderful. I can’t thank you two enough for recommending me for the job.” A brief moment of sheer pleasure rips through the anxiousness currently turning my tummy upside down. “There was a near mishap with the cake, but everything worked out.” I giggle nervously and whisper, “I met someone.”
“Oh, do tell.” Hope’s eyes brighten, and Sage scoots forward in her chair.
“His name is Beau, and he’s a friend of the bride and groom.” My cheeks heat and heart pitter-patters at the thought of Beau, his kisses, and how he held me in his arms as we danced.” I glance around before saying anything more. “And get this. He loves to cook and bake. Owns his own restaurant. Can you believe it?”
“Take that man out of the dating pool ASAP.” Sage grins from ear to ear. “You are seeing him again, aren’t you?”
Beau asked me to stay until the reception ended so we could grab a coffee and chat, but that all fell apart at the last minute. It was a little chaotic as Grace and Tom took off from the reception. The limo driver arrived drunk, and the best man and one of the bridesmaids were having a spat. Beau jumped in to save the day and took the limo driver’s spot. We exchanged numbers, but there wasn’t time to make plans beyond that.
But I’m not worried. The whole night was like a fairytale dream come true.
“I think so, but–” a gavel interrupts our conversation.
“The meeting will come to order,” the chairperson’s directive causes a hush to settle over the room. “The first item of business is the proposed changes to the licensing laws for food-based business conducted in non-commercially regulated facilities. An itemized list of the proposed changes is in the packet. I assume everyone picked one up with the agenda.”
I open the packet and flip through the pages until I find the correct document as the chairperson continues with board introductions. My heart sinks as I read through the proposals that villainize businesses like mine on issues of cleanliness, protocols, and having the community’s health and well-being as a priority.
Of all the nerve.
“While well-intentioned, the current licensing laws do not protect the community to its fullest ability. By eliminating home-based bakeries from our local economy, we can ensure that all businesses adhere to the same rigorous standards, promoting fairness and consistency across the board.”
A deep voice booms into the microphone, causing the hair on my arms to stand on end. I recognize the familiar voice but am shocked and appalled by the words. I glance up from the papers, and my hands begin to tremble. Beau stands at the front of the room, his expression impassive as he argues in favor of the new regulations.
I struggle to reconcile the charming man from a few evenings ago with the man who speaks so poorly of legitimate, law-abiding entrepreneurs. How could Beau be behind an effort to drive me out of business?
“Furthermore, by centralizing food-based operations in licensed commercial kitchens, we can better regulate food production and protect consumers from potential health risks.” Beau scans the crowd as he wraps up his brief speech. His eyes land on mine, and he hesitates for a moment. His brow furrows as he looks back at the panel on stage before continuing. “This isn”t about stifling creativity or entrepreneurial spirit – it”s about prioritizing the safety and well-being of our community. Thank you.”
He bounds from the stage and takes a seat in the front row. My chest tightens with emotion. I stare at the back of his head, oblivious to anything but the ache in my heart and the knowledge that everything I’ve worked toward could be ripped away from me by the one person I thought might be the one.
If fate brought us together, it could also tear us apart. We never stood a chance. We were doomed from the start.
***
Beau
My heart pounds in my chest as I prepare to address the attendees. The room hums with anticipation, the air thick with chatter. I tune out the chatter to calm my nerves as the chairperson introduces me.
I’m confident in my ability to address the issue and protect the community from potential harm. But as much as I believe in the benefits of changing the law, it doesn’t come without consequences. Some will sacrifice more than others.
My words are measured and deliberate, my voice steady despite the turmoil swirling within me. I argue for the proposed changes with unwavering conviction, advocating for stricter regulations in the interest of quality assurance.
As I wrap up the speech, I glance around the room at my fellow business owners. I see anger and pain in some people’s eyes, as well as heads nodding in agreement with my concerns. But when my eyes land on Eisley, the look of disappointment on her face causes me to pause.
Realization hits me like a sudden punch to the gut. There’s a reason I didn’t recognize her from one of the local restaurants. She’s independent, likely a small entrepreneur running the kind of business the law, if passed, would hurt.
Everything comes crashing down around me as the implications of what I’m advocating for sinks in. The thought of hurting her and the impact this could have on her livelihood weighs heavily on my heart and my conscience. Yet, despite the turmoil swirling in my gut, I can’t shake the notion that this is the right thing to do. I can’t ignore the potential risks posed by unregulated businesses. Can I?
I quickly wrap things up and take my seat, unable to shake the feeling that I’m betraying Eisley.
If we’d only had that cup of coffee or I’d called her sooner to set up an actual date, we could have talked and gotten to know each other beyond the obvious chemistry that drew us together. Neither of us would’ve been blindsided tonight. But damn it. If the chauffeur hadn’t been drunk. If Kent hadn’t been an ass. If I’d paid more attention to the growing attraction between Eisley and me instead of what everyone else needed. Someone else could have driven Tom and Grace.
I should’ve chosen Eisley over everything else.
I glance over my shoulder, tuning out everyone and everything except Eisley. My pulse thunders in my ears as she stares back in disappointment. It kills me to know I’ve hurt her. It’s my responsibility to make things right with her or possibly miss out on the best thing that’s ever walked into my life.
I scroll through my contacts to her number and text, asking her to wait for me after the meeting. Minutes go by without a response. I glance over my shoulder again, but Eisley’s gone.
I have to find a way to reconcile my sense of duty and my feelings for Eisley, or I’m destined to lose the woman I’ve already fallen head over heels in love with.