Chapter 9
9
I arrived at the bakery a little before five the next morning, feeling excited and optimistic. There was nothing like a good night’s sleep to give me a bit of an attitude adjustment, and I had needed it. I didn’t like conflict, and I decided that this day was going to go perfectly smoothly.
Whether that guy across the street liked it or not.
Nope, wrong attitude, Ivy.
Today, I was going to talk with Connor MacDowell and welcome him properly to Jingle Junction. Maybe even make a new friend. All while fighting off my internal desire to be more than just friends, thank you very much.
By the time Ella arrived at the bakery, I was blasting some of my favorite tunes in the empty space, shimmying and dancing as I worked. I already had the cinnamon rolls and croissants in the oven and was starting on the batter for the cupcakes.
“What’s gotten into you?” Ella laughed a little breathlessly as she tied on her apron and stood next to me. “We’re listening to Pink? Usually, the month of February is dedicated to old-time crooners like Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, and Etta James. What gives?”
“A bit of female empowerment music never hurt anyone. I’ll turn on the crooners when we open the shop. Right now, I’m feeling a little… feisty.”
Ella giggled and started to prepare the icing for a batch of chocolate cupcakes. “Is there a reason why?” She arched an eyebrow. “Or should I say, is there a certain man who’s making you feel this way?”
“Of course not! Don’t be silly.” I ducked my head and carefully poured the batter into the muffin cups. “I just felt like—”
“Hey.” Ella touched my shoulder. “I was only teasing, Ivy. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t,” I lied.
My stomach tightened with those silly butterflies all over again. I didn’t tell her about my terrible encounter with Connor MacDowell or my talk with Dad last night, choosing instead to focus on the baking ahead of me.
We worked in near silence for the next hour, getting everything set up for the day. When the first customer strolled through the front door, I had changed the music, and Frank Sinatra was crooning softly through the speakers. People picking up their morning caffeine and warm breakfast muffins kept me chatting and busy, and that suited me just fine. Once the high school students and working citizens thinned out, it was a little after 8:00. The tourists wouldn’t start arriving until mid-morning.
I was in the back, leaving the front customers to Ella, when she suddenly yelled out for me.
“What’s wrong?” I rushed into the front of the bakery, noting her worried tone.
Ella’s wide eyes met mine before she gestured at the front display window. “Look!”
I smiled apologetically at the handful of customers sitting at our tables and hurried over to the plate glass facing the street. Ella was looking out across at the candy store. A certain familiar figure was signing a delivery man’s clipboard and supervising the newest addition to The Sweet Shoppe.
I gasped at the sight of the massive box, reading the black block writing across the side of the cardboard. “Oh, my word!” I recognized it because I’d contemplated buying one myself. “Is that the new UberCoffee 137 model?”
“It sure is! So, now he’s serving coffee as well?” Ella huffed out loud while I did so inside, holding it back as much as I could. “No way! That’s our niche, Ivy. We’re the ones who volunteered to take classes so we could give people a place to go for a caffeine pick-me-up. He can’t just waltz in here with his fancy super-duper expensive machine and take over another thing we do!” She bit her lip, then looked over at me. “Can he?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. It certainly looked like he thought he could. I needed to call Dad. The moment I thought that, my pride crushed that impulse immediately. Who was I, some little girl running to her father every time something bad happened? I could handle this without bringing Dad into it.
Surely.
“Well, I’m not going to take this sort of thing lying down!” Ella reached behind her back and started to untie her apron strings. She pushed her cat-eye glasses up further on her nose after tossing aside the branded uniform piece. “I’m going to march over there and set Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Sugary straight. He needs to hear what’s what! Coffee is our territory!”
“No, please don’t.” Because I could feel my blood pressure rising and my heartbeat accelerating, I fought for control. Calm. Peace. I even closed my eyes momentarily, trying to picture ocean waves crashing onto the shores of a pristine beach… and instantly felt better. When I opened my eyes again, I shook my head and blew out a deep breath. “No. I’ll handle it my way.”
“And what way will that be, Ivy?” Ella sputtered. “By pretending it’s not happening and keeping your feelings inside, like you usually do?” She inhaled sharply, hands clapping over her mouth, but it was too late.
I jerked back as though she’d just slapped me. Darting a glance around the room, I hoped no one had heard her. Luckily, the customers were all busy talking amongst themselves and not giving us a second thought. “How can you say that to me, Ella?”
Ella shook her head, eyes sad and worried as her hands dropped to grab for mine. “Look, I’m sorry, Ivy, but you know it’s true. You hate conflict and confrontation. When’s the last time you really told someone how you felt?”
“I said I’d take care of it.” Turning, I pulled free of her and hurried back to the kitchen to finish decorating the Valentine’s Day-themed cupcakes. I could feel my face burning with embarrassment as my mind turned over and over what she’d said.
And did my level best not to cry into my icing, because she was right, darn it.
Completely and utterly right.
So much for trying to think of beach scenes to remain calm.
One thing was absolutely clear… I needed to think about my next move with Connor MacDowell, and that move couldn’t have anything to do with Dad.
Only I couldn’t stop thinking about what was going on across the street and what Ella had said. Why couldn’t I have Holly’s courage? Or Eve’s spunk? All my life I had been the one to keep the peace, to settle arguments, and to have a veneer of politeness even when I was frustrated or bored. Some things couldn’t be fixed by me trying to be the person to keep the peace, and when things got bad, I did my best to block it out and ignore it.
Luckily, the lunch-hour rush hit and kept me too busy to think about The Sweet Shoppe. By the time 3:00 rolled around, I was exhausted, both from work and from mulling over options in my head. I was tired of having imaginary debates with imaginary scenarios.
“You can call it a day, Ella,” I said. We’d been quiet with one another since she’d spoken up. I struggled to just drop the topic, and she seemed so remorseful that I only ended up feeling worse about the situation. It was easier to let her go home and do my best to sort this out on my own. “I’m just gonna finish the last of the cake pops and leave the decorating for tomorrow morning.”
She hesitated, looking at me with mournful eyes, before nodding. “I’ll sweep up the front first.”
Ten minutes later, Ella strode back inside the kitchen, her hands clenched into fists, her regret and reticence seemingly forgotten. Her face was flushed with emotion and hot color. “You probably don’t want to know this, but a few minutes ago, another van pulled up across the street. Our neighbor has a brand-new ice cream machine, Ivy.”
“Okay,” I said, my tone nice and calm. We didn’t sell ice cream.
No harm, no foul.
“Oh, I’m not done,” she snapped. “You know that fancy convection oven you’ve had your eye on now for six months?”
My stomach dropped. I’d been saving up for it, and couldn’t wait until I could buy one in the fall. Something told me I didn’t want to hear what she had to say next.
“Well, your competition now owns one.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her antagonism back in full force. “And one of the workers accidentally upended a box. Ivy, dozens of cake pans fell out.”
I couldn’t breathe. This was just too much.
“Is he also making cakes?” Ella demanded.
My heart sank down to the tips of my toes. Holly warned me. I just hadn’t wanted to believe her. “A convection oven and cake pans, you say?”
I got a brisk nod in return. There was no way around it. This was competition, plain and simple. I had no choice. I had to involve Dad. He was the mayor, and he’d decreed long ago that there were enough store ideas, and the town was small enough, that people didn’t have to be in direct competition with each other.
“I don’t know if he’s going to make cakes,” I said, “but I promise you, I’m going to find out.” Ella gave me a dubious look, and that only fanned my internal flames higher. “I am!” I huffed a few breaths, trembling with a surge of adrenaline I could feel rushing through me. “Really, I am. Just as soon as I finish up here, I’m going over.”
Ella nodded. “Okay. Want me to stay and go with you?”
I shook my head, breathing deeply, clutching at the counter with both hands until I felt more in control. This was ridiculous and not happening on my watch. “No, no, it’s okay. I got it covered.”
“If you say so.” My best friend hesitated, jaw tight, before she finally shrugged. “I’m going to head out, then. Don’t stay here too long. And keep me posted.”
“I’m almost done,” I said. “I’ll let you know what happens.”
The minute Ella was gone, I hurried and finished my task, cleaned my area, and locked the bakery behind me. It took everything I had not to rush across the street, but I was able to muster slow and steady strides, just this side of stomping. I was finally going to confront Connor MacDowell and find out just what it was he was up to. Surely Dad had told him I made the cakes for every occasion and holiday in Jingle Junction? Handsome or not, he couldn’t run roughshod over our way of life here just because he was some fancy-pants famous candy creator.
I’d just have to make him see reason.
Leaning against The Sweet Shoppe’s front window, I raised my hand over my eyes and tried to peer inside. But to my surprise, Connor MacDowell had taped huge sheets of cardboard across the windows, replacing the butcher paper and making it impossible to see inside. Why? Was he afraid the competition would spy on him? I was his only competition, and I wasn’t… scratch that.
I actually was spying on him.
And it looked like I was probably his competition, too.
I walked to the front door and yanked on it. Locked. Had Connor already gone home for the day?
Trying to appear as casual as I could to people strolling the sidewalk and shopping, I hurried around the corner to the side alleyway. A huge stack of recyclable cardboard sat next to the dumpster. Biting my lip, I glanced around quickly to make sure no one was watching, then reached up and flipped the lid on the commercial dumpster open. It took a bit of effort to pull the stack of cardboard boxes over to the front of the giant trash bin, but I managed. Determined now, I gingerly stepped up onto the pile and peeked inside the garbage bin.
One of the trash bags hadn’t been tied all the way, and I could make out a parchment paper I used in my own bakery. I needed a better view, which had me leaning forward precariously, balancing myself over the rim of the dumpster. Stretching as far as I could, I was reaching for the paper when I heard a short grunt behind me.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
The gruff voice, with its familiar accent, made me yelp in surprise. I was so startled I jumped back off the lip of the dumpster, slipping as I did, and the pile of cardboard gave way under my feet.
I felt myself fall in slow motion, unable to stop my ungainly dismount. With arms and legs flying, I landed on my butt on the cold pavement.
And looked up at the frustrated and angry face of my competition.