February 3
Taylor
T he bake shop’s deadline for orders to be delivered by Valentine’s Day is the ninth—and they’re suddenly pouring in. Like in almost overwhelming numbers. Which is great—but also stressful.
When my phone buzzes with a text, I make a face. I’m up to my eyeballs in dough here, both hands immersed in it.
Out front, we suddenly have more foot traffic than usual, and I hear Maggie barking hello to someone. Some of the customers are placing orders for pickup on the thirteenth or fourteenth; others are simply grabbing cookies or a pie to go. School just let out and three booths are filled with teenage girls snacking on cupcakes while they finalize plans for the sweetheart dance—these days held in the ballroom at the Sweetwater Inn, and one of Hank’s bigger annual events.
Kyra handles the front, keeping the display case stocked while Geneva and I work in back. I’m prepping cookie dough to be stored in the walk-in freezer for use on holiday orders in the week ahead while she bakes cupcakes for the coming days.
“I figured it out.”
Geneva and I both look up from our work to see Kyra’s face in the pass-through window.
“Figured what out?” I ask.
“Where the extra uptick in orders is coming from.” Business always increases this time of year, but we’ve gotten twice the amount expected by this date. Right after my run-in with Jasmine yesterday, I came back to find the orders piling up.
I let my eyes go wide. “Where?”
“Remember those two ladies you mentioned? The ones asking about the horse farm?”
“Mmm hmm.” They changed the course of Sweetwater’s future, so I remember them well.
“One of them is actually a famous artist—a painter—with a few hundred thousand followers on social media. And she recommended us! With a link and everything.”
I’m pretty sure my jaw just dropped. First thought: “That’s amazing.” Second: “My God, I hope we can fulfill all the orders.”
“Don’t you worry,” Geneva says from next to the big mixer where she’s adding ingredients for chocolate cake. “We’ll work around the clock for the next week if we have to. Won’t we, Kyra?”
Kyra looks a little surprised by the suggestion, but then nods. “Of course. Whatever you need, Taylor.”
I let out a sigh. “You guys are the best.”
When my phone buzzes again, I finally take a moment to wipe my hands on my apron and look.
The first text is from my mom, offering to come up and help bake. Clearly Geneva has kept her informed on the latest. I type back: Swamped and will take you up on it. Call you later to strategize.
The next is from Luke. Word of the day: Dinner? At the Big Dipper? Would love to take you someplace nicer, but since it’s the only place in town…
I let out a sad sigh. Then type out my reply. Wish I could. But even busier than yesterday .
He suggested getting together then, too.
I follow that with another text. Found out someone recommended us online. Which is awesome if I can fill the orders in time. Wish I could see you, but I’ll be here late again.
Does it kill me to actually turn him down? Of course. Especially given how much our time together on the elephino has stayed on my mind.
But I have to be a responsible businesswoman. Not just for me—I employ people, and I have shop bills to pay. If money is coming in, I have to be grateful and put in the hours to keep my customers happy and hopefully coming back.
I’m really sorry, I say in one more text.
More than words can adequately express.