Chapter 15
15
“ T hanks, Mrs. Peterson.” I handed Fran’s best friend a cranberry bagel and a cup of coffee. I was sure her request was a pity order, because word had gotten around about the bakery’s sagging sales, but I’d take it. Things hadn’t gotten better on Monday. If anything, they were worse, the echoingly quiet interior of my place haunting me day after day. We’d even turned off the coffee machine at one point since no one was ordering.
By the time Thursday arrived, I was almost in full-blown panic mode. Not that the customers who did come in would know it. I’d become a master at hiding my real feelings, something I’d been good at before… but now carried to epic proportions.
The only comforting thought I’d had was Mom had told me Connor hadn’t gone to the movie with Deke. He’d apologized to Deke and said he had a meeting that night he couldn’t get out of, and that suited me fine. The mental image of him doing some sort of bonding with Deke really bugged me, and the thought of him being unkind to Deke in any way was nerve-wracking, I knew Marigold wouldn’t have let anything happen, but still …
“Come again, Mrs. Peterson.”
“You know I will, Ivy,” Connie Peterson said, patting my hand. “You make the best bagels in town.”
“Thanks.” Her praise was pretty hollow, considering I was the only person in town who made bagels—except for the deli. They made their own bagels for their sandwiches.
When Mrs. Peterson walked out the door, Bell’s Bakery was once again empty.
Was this going to be the story of my life? I felt my whole body shiver as an image passed through my mind. Connor MacDowell sweeping in, buying my bakery out from under me when I failed and making me work for him, his empire of sweets sweeping over Jingle Junction in a plague of sugar and Scottish accents.
“Maybe it’s time we close down the coffee portion of the bakery,” I said to Ella as the sense of defeat settled around me. “For good. We can’t compete.” I waved off her protest with a smile I hoped looked brave. “I never wanted to focus on coffee, anyway. Obviously, people are enjoying Connor’s coffee instead, so why not just let him have it?” Fighting had only turned him into an enemy who was clearly better at this competition thing than I was. “It’s not a big deal to me.” Oh, was I getting good at lying, or what? “In fact, I realize if we take down the coffee area, we’ll have more room for baked goods.”
Baked goods no one is buying, Ivy.
Ella shook her head. “We are not shutting down the coffee section of the bakery. No way are we letting him win.”
I shrugged, truly exhausted from the daily stress and worry. This wasn’t how I wanted to live, or how I wanted my business to affect me. I’d been so happy. How had everything gone downhill this fast? “He’s kind of won already.”
Maybe it was time to admit that I really wasn’t that good at what I did, and the only reason I’d been busy was because I’d been the only bakery spot in town. That thought hurt way more than anything else, since it meant I was letting down the women who came before me. But what other explanation could there be?
Ella stalked over to the window and glowered across the street. A line was still prevalent most days, though it was shorter than it had been previously. Still, there were people standing in the February cold, waiting to get in the door. “Look at him with his fancy lights around his sign,” Ella said, an edge of disapproval in every syllable. “It’s like he’s purposely taunting you. Trying to say he outshines you in everything he does.”
“I’m sure that’s not his intent.” Truth was, I hadn’t seen Connor MacDowell since he’d stormed into my bakery last week and caused us to be the talk of the town.
Dad had stopped by Monday night at my house and tried to talk about what had happened, but I waved him off, saying I had a headache and was tired. The whole confrontation was still too fresh at that time to discuss me being the gossip on everyone’s lips. He’d finally relented and gone home.
I spent the next few hours working on the last of the heart-shaped sugar cookies I was making for the Blair-Fitzpatrick wedding. It was only two days away, and seeing as how I obviously wasn’t going to be selling out of heart-shaped cookies for Valentine’s Day now that the town had a candy shop, I planned on taking some of the cookies I’d foolishly made yesterday, thinking we’d have a push on Valentine’s Day orders on Thursday and Friday.
“And we’re done,” Ella said, stretching out her back as we wrapped up the order, work done in record time since neither of us had to leave to staff the counter for customers very often. Silver linings and all that. “Two hundred cookies finished two days before the wedding!” she said with a weary smile. “That has to be a record for us.”
I smiled. “I think you’re right.”
The jingle of the bell overhead made us both perk up. In fact, the two of us headed toward the door to the public part of the bakery at the same time, running out to see who our customer was. I stopped in my tracks, absolutely stunned when Gracie, our sixteen-year-old weekend helper, waved to me from where she stood hesitantly by the front door.
“Hey, Gracie,” I said, surprised to see her. “What’s up?”
She cleared her throat and looked over my shoulder at the wall. “Uh, Ivy. Hi. Well, I need to tell you something.”
“Okay,” I said, trying not to look as nervous as I felt. The tone Gracie was using wasn’t her normal, cheerful demeanor, and the knot in my stomach that had never quite gone away tightened further. “What’s did you need?”
Her eyes darted to me, then to Ella, then back to the wall. “Uh, see. It’s like this. I’m going to quit. Okay? Quit working for you on the weekends, I mean.” She fidgeted with the doorknob behind her. “No hard feelings, okay?”
“I’m sorry, what? ” I held up my hands in total dismay. “What’s going on, Gracie? Was it something I did? Let’s see if we can talk about it. I thought you were happy here.”
“No, it’s not that.” She cleared her throat again. “See, I’m going to work for Mr. MacDowell across the street. He placed an ad in the paper, and when I went in to talk with him, he offered me, like, a dollar more an hour. So, I’m gonna go with him. Okay?”
I could hear Ella growl behind me while my heart sank.
“Why that dirty, low down—” Ella’s snarling words weren’t helping the matter.
“It’s fine, Gracie.” I waved a hand behind me to silence Ella. Gracie didn’t need to hear the rest of that statement. It wasn’t her fault, and I hardly blamed her. “We wish you all the best. Thank you for coming and telling me.”
She looked relieved before she nodded. “He told me I had to.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Um, Mr. MacDowell. He said it was the right thing to do, and so before I could start working for him, I had to let you know. In case you needed, you know, time to get someone.” Her eyes darted around the room. “But maybe you don’t need anyone?”
“We’ll be fine, Gracie,” I said, trying not to snap at her. “I’ll send your last paycheck to your parents’ house.”
“Um, yeah. Okay, thanks.” She waved her hand quickly in the air before bolting out the door.
“Oh, well, that’s it !” Ella exclaimed, her face flushed with anger. “I’m going over there and giving that jerk a piece of my mind! Imagine poaching our employee!”
I blew out a deep breath despite the seriousness of the situation. “I wouldn’t exactly call it poaching, Ella.” I shrugged. “It’s a great opportunity for Gracie. It’s okay. We’ll find someone new. Someone who wants to work here. You’ll see. Everything will work out.”
But I couldn’t have been more wrong. After closing, Ella had just left, and I was shutting off the lights in the bakery when blushing bride Junie Blair burst through the door, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright.
“Hey, Junie,” I said with a bright smile for my client.
I still hung a lot of hope on her pending wedding, and the publicity the cake I was making for her would bring to the bakery. Surely, once the towering creation hit social media, with all its stunning decorations, things would turn around? It was the last thread I clung to and the only reason I was holding it together. I just wanted to get through Saturday, so I could prove what I was made of.
“It’s great to see you,” I said. “Did you want to see your cookies? I’m still working on your cake, but I just finished your other order an hour ago.” I leaned forward and winked. “And they’re gorgeous, if I say so myself!”
Junie winced, and my heart dropped. “Oh, Ivy. I’m so sorry,” she said. “I had really hoped to get to you before you started the cookies.”
“I’m sorry? What?” The wedding was in two days. Of course I had them ready. My heart pounded in my chest, and I suddenly realized I had forgotten to breathe. “We set the schedule weeks ago so they’d be ready in time for your big day, Junie. I thought I explained that to you.”
“You did,” she said before she clapped her hands together and gave a little shimmy of unbridled excitement. “But I had the best idea! And it’s so awesome, I just knew it was the right thing to do, and I hope you love it, too!”
“What is it?” I asked woodenly but, deep down, I already had an idea what she was going to say.
“I called The Sweet Shoppe to see if I could maybe get a box of candy for each of my attendees. You know, something new from the new candy shop kind of thing. And Connor MacDowell himself answered the phone! When I told him who I was, and how I’d been to his warehouse in San Francisco once when Craig and I went on vacation two years ago, well, he said he’d love to supply a fellow candy connoisseur with an order!” She squealed and jumped up and down. “Ivy, he’s making four hundred champagne-filled chocolates that are shaped like hearts for all the guests! Can you believe it?”
For a moment, the floor tilted, and my vision went fuzzy around the edges.
“Isn’t this amazing!” Junie exclaimed, her happiness unfazed by my unspoken frustration. “I just can’t believe it!”
Oh, I could believe it, all right.
All of those cookies I’d baked and prepared were useless now. All of the hours fussing over them and decorating them, gone. I couldn’t even sell them at a reduced cost for Valentine’s Day because I couldn’t get a single customer to step inside my bakery.
“What about your order?” I whispered.
We had a signed contract for the wedding cake, with all the details noted and agreed on, but the cookies were a different matter. I’d simply added them to her request without making her sign a new addendum contract.
She got her delight under control and did her best to look genuinely sorry. “Can’t you just sell the cookies in your bakery? Plus, it’s not like I’m canceling my cake order. I still want that.”
I heard the defensiveness in her voice, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t want to immediately appease her. I was frustrated and boiling mad, and I didn’t care who knew it!
“No, Junie, I can’t just sell them in my bakery.” This was a straw that even the strongest camel would buckle under. “They were a special order, custom done, and decorated.”
Junie sighed and looked a bit worried. “Well, I guess you can still bring them then. We’ll just set them out next to the special chocolates Mr. MacDowell is making.”
Because clearly, my cookies didn’t cut it anymore. Not without the extra glitz and glamor of Sweet Shoppe custom-made confections.
“Fabulous,” I growled.
She blinked at me once, then backed up a couple of steps toward the door. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you Saturday with the cake. Bye, Ivy. Thanks for understanding!”
I watched her hurry out the door and scurry past the window down the sidewalk. Suddenly, the glittering lights outside and the cheery holiday decorations were a source of rage… even more so when my gaze fell on the garishly glowing place across the street.
And I felt something raw and terrible snap inside me. Red spots danced in front of my eyes, and I had a momentary thought that perhaps I was having a stroke. But when the spots cleared, I was still raging mad.
Not a stroke.
An epiphany!
Hands shaking, it took two tries to yank open the front door of the bakery, my whole body vibrating as I stood on the threshold, glaring my fury across the street.
It was time Mr. Gorgeous-Jerk and I had it out once and for all!