Chapter 32 Eva
What in the ever-loving world is going on here?”
Elliot stands beside me on the corner of the street as we stare at the long line waiting to visit the store. He arrived yesterday morning, so I picked him up from the airport and told him to crash at my place.
We both tilt our heads at the same time, counting the people, but lose track when we notice many are in groups. They’re sitting on the ground, all on their phones, but appear to be in good spirits.
I scratch my head in confusion. It’s been slow the past month, and because I closed up the week of the funeral, revenue has taken a nosedive.
Billie was taking some time off, and briefly mentioned a change in scenery.
I completely understand her need to get away but hoped she would return so we could put our heads together to drum up more business.
But perhaps the tides have turned and the universe is finally listening.
“Eva, when you said it was a simple donut shop, you failed to mention the lines would be bigger than at my restaurant in Paris.”
“I, uh… I have no idea what’s going on,” I answer, dumbfounded.
We move closer to the girls who are sitting at the front of the line.
“What’s happening?” Elliot asks.
The girls eye him up and down, then bat their lashes with overbearing grins. “We’re waiting for the best donut store to open.”
“Um… thanks,” I say, then scratch my head again. “But I don’t understand.”
“Some stores we’ve been to are so mid, but yours looks delish,” another girl says. “It’s totally the talk of the town!”
I narrow my eyes, still confused. “As in, Cinnamon Springs?”
“Duh… Manhattan.”
It still doesn’t make sense.
Then I overhear one of the girls say, “He’s like, so hot. As soon as Cassie told me he opened an account, I was like, baby, I’m following you .”
Elliot extends his hand. “Pass me the keys. I’ll get started.”
We did a bit of a rundown yesterday when he arrived, but given that I’ve been closed for a week, I expected there to be a small crowd, just the usuals, nothing at all like this.
“So you guys all traveled from Manhattan?” I ask, flinching my head back slightly.
“We’re from Bridgeport,” two girls respond in unison. “And the group behind us are from Jersey.”
“Wow, so you guys left at what time?”
“We left at midnight. I mean, when the hottest CEO tells you to run, you run. It’s about time he opened a social account. When my girl Keira told me, I swear I screamed and reposted it everywhere.”
I nod, then ask with my eyebrows squished, “Where did you see this post?”
The girl in front hands me her phone, and on the screen is a profile page of the one and only Aston Beaumont. And what appear to be two hundred thousand followers. My mouth opens in shock, since I have one thousand followers, and most of them are people in this town.
How did he manage to open an account and gain so many followers so quickly?
The profile picture is a photograph of skyscrapers, but then I glance closely at his one and only post. It’s an image of the front of my store, and the caption reads:
Donuts Ever After deserves a Happily Ever After #roadtrip
I read the post again, waiting for it to sink in. Aston knows how important my store is to me. And for someone who loathes social media, I know just how big of a gesture this is from him.
My cheekbones rise, unable to hold back my smile as heat radiates through my chest.
“We won’t be too long, okay? As soon as our batches are done, we’ll open the door.”
The morning can only be described as complete and utter chaos. I ended up calling Chloe for reinforcement, and thankfully, she was free.
At first, Elliot was preparing donuts, but then the girls kept asking about the hot guy in the kitchen.
So, I swapped and put him on coffee duty.
It makes sense since the last thing I want to hear about is how hot my brother is.
Besides, to flirt with him, they have to continuously order, so it’s a win-win.
The sales are the highest I have ever seen, making this our most successful day ever.
Maybe Maddy is right, I do need to invest more time in marketing.
“Miss Woods?”
“Mr. Fenech,” I say politely while trying to complete an order for a dozen mixed donuts. “What would you like to order?”
He removes his flat cap and places it on the countertop. “Oh, Miss Woods, I’m here on official business.”
“I see.” I glance at the line, trying not to be rude. “Um… I’m kind of busy right now—would it be possible to talk once I close?”
“Of course, Miss Woods.”
“May I ask what it’s in regard to?”
“It’s best we talk about it when you have time. How about you drop by my office when you’re done?”
“Sure,” I tell him.
At the end of the day, Chloe closes the door as the three of us collapse on the chairs. I don’t think, in the entire time I’ve been open, this has ever happened. My entire body is throbbing in pain, and my feet are swollen even in my sneakers.
“I’m exhausted.” I almost cry from tiredness. “How do you do this every day?”
“Well, I have a team of about ten kitchen staff, so that’s the secret,” Elliot answers with a cocky grin.
“Right,” I barely manage to reply. “I can’t even talk. I’m so tired.”
“I heard them say they’ll be back tomorrow.” Chloe drags out her words. “Plus, this famous influencer is driving here, too.”
“I don’t even have enough supplies to deal with this,” I say loudly, jumping to my feet in a sudden panic, only for my phone to ring with Mr. Fenech’s number flashing on my screen. “Shit, I promised to meet Mr. Fenech at his office.”
“I’ve got this,” Elliot informs me. “Go do what you need to do.”
“But how do you know what—”
“Two words for you—”
“If you say Michelin star …” I interrupt with a grin. “I swear to God I will—”
“Do what?” Elliot teases. “Just go, you’re being a pain in my ass.”
“Do you see how my brother treats me, Chloe?”
She laughs, sliding farther into the chair from exhaustion. The store is still a mess, so Chloe offers to clean up the dining area before leaving. I thank her, then reach over to hug Elliot. “Did I say thank you for coming back to Cinnamon Springs?”
“Yes, but for my ego, please say it again.”
This time, I pinch his cheeks like I used to when we were kids. He scowls, annoyed by my show of affection. I love having him back and hope he’ll change his mind and want to stay longer than the summer.
I decide to walk to Mr. Fenech’s office, since it’s only one block away. However, halfway there, I realize it’s a stupid idea because my body feels like jelly.
The moment I enter his small office, the receptionist greets me and offers me a beverage.
“I’m fine, thank you. Is Mr. Fenech available?”
“Yes, please enter his office.”
The office is small, with papers scattered all over his desk. Organized chaos, I assume. It smells like cigars, a scent I’m not overly fond of, and his furniture is vintage.
“Miss Woods, please take a seat.”
“So, what is so important you needed to see me today?”
“The owner of the land you’ve wanted has decided to sell. Naturally, I knew you were interested, so before it is placed on the market, I thought I would ask you if this is still something you want.”
I shake my head in shock, pressing my hand to my chest. “Um… yes. I think. I’ve been so preoccupied and haven’t had a moment to think about it.”
“The owner is asking below market, but I will let you know there are conditions for the property.”
“Right, conditions…” I trail off, then release a breath. “So this is a big surprise. I mean, I have to speak to the bank again, but surely it won’t be a problem. At least, I hope it’s not. Business has been slow, but after today, I think we’re on a winning streak.”
Mr. Fenech waits for my incessant rambling to finish. “I thought it would be. I know you have a lot of questions, and the owner wants to move fast. Perhaps we can arrange to see the property, and you can ask as many questions as you need?”
“That would be great. Is there a time?”
“How about now?” he answers promptly. “I will call to make arrangements if you give me a moment.”
“Okay,” I say, with a new thirst for life.
He dials a number on the office phone but speaks quietly into the speaker. I try to make a mental calculation in my head of how much money I have saved. I’m praying it’s enough, and hopefully, after today, the store will bring in more customers, relieving any financial stress.
“Right, the owner will meet us there in ten minutes. Shall we?”
Mr. Fenech’s old Mercedes-Benz smells like mothballs and cinnamon. It’s an odd combination, but nevertheless, it’s the least important thing on my mind. I pray for this to all come true because it is something I’ve been dreaming of for the longest time.
He parks the car behind the house, and as we both exit, loose twigs and leaves crunch beneath my feet.
We step into the clearing, and the moment we do, the dilapidated house comes into full view.
Many would say it looks like a horror movie house, but I see the bones of a home I plan to make perfect.
“Did they say what time?” I ask loudly.
“Now,” a voice behind me says.
I don’t turn around, my stomach flipping at the sound of his voice. My heart starts to hammer inside my chest, and when I slowly turn, Aston is standing across from me.
Just like me, he looks tired. Dark circles have formed around his normally sparkling green eyes, and he has a beard. Though he looks damn sexy with one. My fingers ache to touch him, to show him I was wrong and need him more than I ever cared to admit.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here on business,” he states, but there’s a gleam in his eye.
He removes a bunch of papers from inside his suit jacket. I turn to look at Mr. Fenech, but he simply grins and walks back to his car, leaving us alone. I scan the area, but see no Porsche. All I notice is a small dinghy docked next to the modest wharf.