Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
J ared’s handshake still electrified my skin during the walk home. Cat had spent the time trying to brainstorm ways I could ruin him from the inside after I told her the insane plan I had agreed to, but for some reason, it didn’t hold the same allure now that it was turning real.
As soon as I got home and pulled out my notebook, the doubt deepened. I stared at the blank lined page that had been intended for all of my amazing pastry ideas. But it sat empty for a good thirty minutes as I doubted my ability to do anything at all, let alone win a competition against a seasoned chef.
My laptop binged, saving me from my own failure. I crawled across the end of my bed, disturbing Mouse, as I settled into my uncomfortable desk chair that I remembered to replace only when I used it. I found my heart racing in a much more pleasant way than it had when I made the deal as I pulled up the message app. I felt like an eternity since the last time I messaged with PotatoBake888. The last time we chatted, he had given me a much-needed pep talk. Maybe he’d have some sage words for me.
PotatoBake888: Has the world domination started?
I shook my head and rolled my eyes as I read.
TheBakingChick: You are such a nerd.
PotatoBake888: You have no idea.
TheBakingChick: You’re right. I don’t. Maybe you should finally tell me something about yourself.
PotatoBake888: What do you want to know?
TheBakingChick: Where do you live?
PotatoBake888: I travel a lot.
Leave it to him to answer without answering at all.
TheBakingChick: What do you do for a living?
PotatoBake888: I cook … that’s how we met…
TheBakingChick: You never know. You may just be a wanna be a cook.
PotatoBake888: Let me ask you a question. Why don’t you watch romcoms?
TheBakingChick: Why do you?
PotatoBake888: I can’t watch horror all the time. I need a palette cleanse every so often.
TheBakingChick: I guess I’ve had enough palette cleansing. I want something real.
As soon as I wrote it, I knew it was true, and not just about movies. I desperately wanted something real in my life, and as much as I wanted to dismiss us and our chats, this online man seemed more and more to be exactly that.
PotatoBake888: Maybe I’ll convince you eventually.
TheBakingChick: Good luck!! It won’t ever happen.
PotatoBake888 and I chatted well into the night. When he finally logged off, I stared at my computer screen for way too long as the heady buzz of our conversation faded, leaving me faced with the reality that I was sitting alone in my room rather than actually socializing. I couldn’t help but feel a profound disappointment that PotatoBake888 only existed online, which felt a little like pretend.
I pulled myself together and did the second most pathetic thing I could do —cyber sleuthing. I typed Jared’s name into the Google search. I told myself it was relevant research, but likely, it was an avoidance tactic. Perhaps everything in my life had been an avoidance tactic. Always pretending to do productive things without actually making any progress. Never taking any risks or putting anything on the line. Now here I was again, doing the same exact thing.
“Right after this, I will come up with some recipes,” I said out loud as if putting it into the ether would make it true. “I know this town. I know these people. I can come up with a menu Right after this.”
When I stared at the blank notebook waiting for recipes, I felt overwhelming pressure to magically distinguish myself from Jared, from my parents, from the Lobster Tail while still embodying the Cape Shore vibe. It was a tall order.
The results on Google were exactly what I had expected. Articles about Jared, his family, their restaurants, and charity work populated the window. I scrolled through, mostly looking at headlines and pictures. There was one about Jared opening a free food pantry in an underserved area and another one about him revitalizing a community restaurant before turning it back over to local owners. Alright, maybe he wasn’t such a terrible person. Still, I didn’t believe in the ethical rich, nor did I appreciate him coming to my little town to run experiments on some new venture. It was clear from the articles that the Wallace family empire had never ventured out to a vacation town, nor had they opened anything other than a high-end sit down restaurant, food pantry aside .
So, when I closed my laptop in frustration, I still had a mystery on my hands. Who the hell was Jared Wallace? Why was he here? Why Cape Shore? Why my bakery? Where was the rest of the family? Why didn’t the email sender want him opening this place?
None of the questions helped fill my little notebook. Admittedly, the answers wouldn’t either, but they would have been nice to have. I liked to know who the hell my opponent was. It was the only way to come up with a reasonable plan of attack. Was it possible that he had no idea what the hell he was doing?
No, that couldn’t be.
“Ugh!” I groaned as I flopped onto my bed and sketched out a little cupcake with blue frosting. “Stupid!” I shouted at my drawing before ripping it out and tossing it in the garbage, which I missed, making Mouse pounce on the offending piece of trash.