CHAPTER FIVE
P IPER
Thump. Thump. Thump.
I draw in a deep breath through my nose, count to three, then slowly release.
It’s my meditative exercise that I’ve been implementing around the clock, because if I don’t? The construction noises coming from next door will drive me to murder. And believe me, I don’t need much else to make me want to wring somebody’s neck after my new landlord’s unappetizing news.
My store is unnaturally empty today, and I can only assume that it’s because everyone who’s stopped in today realized the sawing and pounding was killing the vibe.
I plan on invoicing Kruesome for the lost revenue.
And for the ocular migraine I’ll no doubt need to treat after two days of non-stop noise next door.
On top of the new medications I’ll undoubtedly seek due to excessive distress in having mere days to find and move into a new place to live.
In fact, I’ll just send him all the bills from my doctors to make my point.
Something that sounds like the highest-pitched sander in the world goes off.
A shudder goes up my spine. I might perish in here.
How many more days do I have to withstand this?
I grind my jaw, focusing on the tray of marshmallows in front of me.
I’m readying that day’s Lakeside S’mores Packs orders, and roughly fifty bags are already stuffed with the requisite graham crackers, marshmallows and chocolate bars my clients have come to expect.
Each bag is tied off with a pretty ribbon, branded with my store’s name followed by a dreamy affirmation on the tag.
I go the extra mile with the small details people love, which is why my store has gone viral a time or two on social media.
One list of the top ten bakeries in the Midwest said that my shop was better than therapy.
Which I tend to agree with. Except for yesterday and today, when the construction noises combined with my new landlord are making this place worse than a nightmare.
The door opens and one of my regulars, Tammy, comes in. She’s cringing, covering her ears immediately.
“I’m sorry,” I say in lieu of a greeting, but my words are drowned out by the high-pitched whining.
My shoulders slump. This is ridiculous, and it’s barely noon.
As soon as the noise breaks, Tammy orders, and I make quick work of ringing her up in the relative silence.
My ears are ringing all through the break in construction noises.
“They’re sure making a racket over there, huh?” she says with a small laugh as I prepare her coffee.
“Racket is an understatement. But it should be ending soon,” I assure her with a big grin.
Thankfully, she doesn’t know that I’m fibbing.
I intend to find out just how long the racket will last as soon as my shop empties out.
One day was permissible. Two days of this is going to put me in the leading role of an episode of Snapped .
I pass Tammy her pumpkin latte so she can sip it while I get the rest of her order ready.
She gifts her work clients a tray of packaged brownies each week, which I have sitting in the cooler in the back.
But before I go back there, I grab the tray of extra marshmallows I’d been working on so that I can save the pre-cubed pieces for a different project.
I’m humming to myself, enjoying the blessed quiet from next door.
In the quiet, my thoughts are returning to me.
I can actually hear myself think! Maybe now I can get back to thinking up fast alternate plans for somewhere to stay.
I draw a deep sigh of relief, but just as I round the corner into the back room, C RRRRAAAACK.
The wall to my left begins to crumble, and I scream and jolt back. The tray in my hand goes flying. Drywall crumbles, and a massive hole is exposed in the back hallway.
A moment later, Kru’s face peeks through at chest height.
He grins up at me, waving. “Hey there.”
I’m sucking in big breaths of air, staring at him in disbelief. My heart is pounding and I might have peed my pants.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I demand.
He reaches for a piece of drywall and tugs at it, freeing it fully from the wall.
After a few more punches to his side of the wall, he’s created a landlord-sized hole, through which he steps.
Suddenly, he’s in the back of my shop, towering over me, his chestnut brown hair mussed and falling across his forehead, streaks of dirt on his arms.
“So…this door belongs to both of us,” he says, pointing to the heavy steel back door.
“The hell it does,” I spit. “There’s always been a wall here, and I’d like it to return, thankyouverymuch.”
He sniffs, propping his hands on his hips. He’s broad and muscular, filling out his black tee in a way that makes my core ache. “Can’t do that. Fire code requires an emergency egress point for both units."
I sigh, rubbing at my forehead. “How on earth can this be a problem when this wall has been here for probably thirty years?”
“Both units haven’t been used in a long time,” Kru says as he grabs the neckline of his shirt.
He uses the collar to wipe at the sweat on his upper lip, which exposes a tantalizing glimpse of the flat planes of his lower belly, right above the belt that keeps his work jeans hugging his hips.
Everything inside me cinches tight. My lips have been there.
I study his face extra hard as I struggle to excise those thoughts.
“So one condition for approval of my new restaurant is that I bring the building up to code. That’s what I’m doing. ”
“And you didn’t think a little warning was called for?” My voice is nearing shriek level. “Look, I just tossed this whole tray of marshmallows. Ruined product. Not to mention the fact that I thought I was about to be attacked by some sort of wall-punching ghost.”
A smile flickers at his lips but then his gaze falls to my tray of marshmallows. “Shit. Sorry about that. I really didn’t think the wall would break that easily. I was testing it on my own, and I punched through, and you were there. Totally wasn’t my game plan.”
“Well…make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Then I remember Tammy out front, waiting on me. “I have to go. I have customers, shockingly, even though your construction noise has driven almost all of my regulars away these past two days. Hard to work remotely from someplace you can’t think.”
“Is it loud over here?” he asks.
“Unfathomably,” I tell him as I rustle in my cooler. When I have the small tray of wrapped brownies, I slam the cooler door shut and spin to face him. “How much longer is this nuisance going to last? It’s affecting my business, and I didn’t sign up for this.”
Kru rubs at the back of his neck. “There’s a lot left to do—”
“Oh good.”
“—but the inconvenience will be worth it in the long run,” he says with a pointed look. “The upgrades are necessary.”
“Yeah. For your half of the building, including your brand new apartment.” I flash him an extra-fake smile and head back to the front. Tammy has been waiting too long, and I’m so tired of the surprises from my lobster landlord.
My insides are drawn tight as I return to the counter, but I pop on a bright smile. “Sorry, just chatting with my new landlord.”
“Is he going to take care of all the noise?” she asks.
“He’s the one making it.”
Tammy frowns. “What’s going in over there?”
“Some sort of…questionable restaurant.” Truth is, I know nothing about what he’s planning to do, and I’m curious to find out. But I’ll take that secret to the grave.
Tammy murmurs her condolences for the noise, then escapes with her brownies and latte. I’m left festering in my own discontent, gazing out at an empty store.
But not for long.
A bright-eyed man strides into the shop a moment later. I recognize him as a member of Kru’s entourage.
“Welcome. Can I help you?”
The man breezes toward me. I can tell he’s not from here. There’s something a little too perfect about his face. His forehead is a little too plastic. “Hi, Piper. I’m Pat. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He sticks out his hand, which I shake cautiously.
“Nice to meet you, Pat,” I say slowly.
“I’m the producer for the reality TV show that’s covering Kru’s build next door.
” His smile widens slightly, and I can feel his hooks sink into me.
“I’ve been meaning to come over here and chat with you.
You have an adorable shop here, and I’m dying to see if you’d be interested in being featured on our show as well. ”
It takes a few moments for his words to sink in. “With Kru?”
“Not with him, but you might be featured in the same episode. Our specialty is following start-ups, small businesses, and entrepreneurs in all stages of growth. Kru’s restaurant will definitely be a multi-episode affair, but your place is too cute to pass up.
We don’t make this offer to just anyone, but since we’re in the plaza already, it’s the perfect opportunity.
Our viewers will die for this concept!” Pat’s lilt tells me he comes from the West Coast somewhere, possibly LA.
He reaches for my arm across the counter.
“Honestly? This could be the number one confection shop in the entire country . People need to see this place.”
I’m not sure if Pat is recruiting me or selling me something. Whatever it is, he’s doing a good job. All I can see as he speaks is dollar signs. Lines of people. The exact opposite of whatever this emptiness is.
“I’m inclined to sign on the dotted line already,” I admit with a little laugh, “but what’s in it for me?”
Pat lowers his chin. “Exposure, honey. Tons of it. Hundreds of thousands of viewers who will become instant fans of Cloud Nine Confections. But I know exposure doesn’t pay the bills.
We pay out according to how much planned airtime you’ll get.
Your store would be something of a smaller segment, but we’ll be cutting you a check if you agree to join the show. ”
“And what would I have to do?”