Chapter Twenty-Six
Bailey
On the twenty-fourth of December, I was ready to call it a year. I’d done all the deliveries, but I still headed to the confectionery. It was my tradition to come here on Christmas Eve. No one else was working, and I enjoyed having the place to myself. I made a pot of mulled wine and played carols while I made the last batch of pralines for the year. I was taking them to the bonfire celebration in Algiers this afternoon, right before heading to Jackson Square for caroling.
I’d put the pralines in the oven and was starting to clean up the counter. Since I wasn’t expecting anyone at all, I startled when I heard someone call out from the yard.
“Hello? Is this the LeBlanc-Broussard confectionery?”
I took off my apron and hurried outside. A young guy, maybe a few years older than me, was waiting there, looking around with curiosity.
“Yes, this is us. Well, it’s just me today,” I said. “My name is Bailey. What can I do for you?”
“I’m Ron Trudeau. Not sure if anyone from the Orleans Conglomerates told you, but I’m interested in buying the confectionery.”
Every muscle in my body stiffened. I swear to God, I forgot how to breathe for a few seconds.
Xander found a buyer. Why didn’t he tell me?
I drew in a deep breath and blinked a few times because my vision was unfocused. Then I clasped my hands in front of me and nodded. “No one told me you were coming.”
“I did tell Xander. I mean, he’s the only one I spoke to.”
Oh, man, this is just getting worse. I put a hand on my chest and shook my head. It doesn’t matter. Surely there’s some explanation for his not mentioning a potential buyer. Though I couldn’t help but feel slighted by the whole thing. As close as we’d become and then this? It hurt.
“What can I do for you?” I asked.
“Before I make an actual offer, I want to take a look around. Would you mind showing me? I totally understand if you can’t. I mean, it’s Christmastime, and you’re probably very busy. But I thought I’d drop by on the off chance anyway.”
I carefully considered my next steps. I couldn’t possibly kick him out.
You don’t own this place, Bailey. You’re an employee of the Orleans Conglomerate, and you knew, deep down, this day would come.
So, even though it was killing my heart, I smiled and said, “Sure, come on in. Everyone else is on vacation already.”
“If you’re busy, I can look around by myself.”
“Nah, you’re going to understand this place better if I walk you through it. Let’s start with the kitchen.”
He followed me inside, looking around at everything. “Oh, you’re listening to Christmas music! How fitting.”
“Yeah. Let me just turn down the volume.” Grabbing my phone, I minimized the sound. “Now, about the kitchen. The ovens were all replaced a few years ago, and they’re in perfect condition.”
“They look good. I’ve loved these pralines since I was a kid. I was so surprised when word got out that the LeBlancs are looking to sell it.”
I just smiled at him. What could I do?
“Are you in the same industry?” I asked.
“We do sweets.”
“More than just pralines?”
“I mean, we do pralines, too, but they don’t taste nearly as good as yours. Did you develop the recipes?”
“We took some over, but my sister and I keep coming up with new ones.”
“I snapped up some pralines at the light festival. They were amazing as usual.”
“Thank you.” I pointed to the door closest to us. “So, that’s the supply room. The boxes are delivered to us, as well as the individual plastic wraps.”
He frowned. “So, who puts them together?”
“We do.”
“How many employees are there?”
“There are four of us. Only my sister and I bake, but we’re also jacks-of-all-trades, doing deliveries, packaging, and everything else.”
He frowned slightly. “It’s not how I would do things, but if it’s working for you, that’s good. Can you show me the rest of the building? I just want to see all the assets and think about what they’d be worth. I still haven’t had an asking price from Xander, and I want to know what to expect.”
Assets. That sounded so cold and soulless, but he was right. That’s what this was.
“There’s not much more to see, just another storage room.” I opened the door. There was no window in here.
He poked his head inside. “I could add another wing, more ovens.”
“So, you expect to expand the operation, then?” I swallowed hard.
“Yes. I’d love to bring my own team, of course. I did tell Xander that I would very much like to convince you to hand over your recipes.”
Another shock went through me. Hand over? I didn’t have a stack of recipes. They were all in my mind.
“What’s your feeling about that?”
“I’ll have to think about it,” I said noncommittally.
“Yes, of course. But, I mean, they’re not your intellectual property. The recipes belong to the Orleans Conglomerate.”
I hated business talk. I really did. “I know that. But all of this requires a lot of consideration.”
He nodded once. “True.”
“Could I ask when you would plan to go through with this?”
“Not until next year, if at all.”
I was starting to feel a bit hopeful even though I still felt utterly betrayed. Why would Xander not even give me a heads-up? I’d told him I didn’t want us to talk about business, but being blindsided by this guy was... Well, I didn’t like it at all.
“These things take time,” he continued. “It wouldn’t be as much work as an actual takeover would be because this isn’t big enough to do the usual evaluation. But it would probably take until well after Mardi Gras to finish everything.”
“Right. Mm-hmm. So, you would be keeping the recipes?” I asked him.
“Yes, of course. That’s the reason I’m buying it. I’m still working with Xander to allow me to use the LeBlanc & Broussard logo, but that’s going to be a tough negotiation.”
I raised a brow. “How so?”
“He insists that he doesn’t want the family name on anything that isn’t part of the Orleans Conglomerate anymore, but we’ll see. It’s still early days, and I’ve got a lot of things working in my favor, such as the fact that this place doesn’t actually make money. It’s just bleeding on his books, which is why he wants to get rid of it.”
Oh, my poor heart. I couldn’t take this anymore. Since I’d shown him around the few rooms we had, we went back outside and circled the building once.
“No warehouse?” he asked.
“It’s not really necessary. We don’t buy anything in bulk. Things could happen if we did, like the flour going bad from humidity and so on. We’ve had a lot of things happen over the years, so now we buy everything as fresh as possible. The storage room is more than enough. Besides, it’s only ever really full during the Christmas season.” I swallowed hard as we walked toward the front gate. “A lot of our work is for charity. Would you continue with that?”
I was afraid to even ask, but I had to know. Though, if he said no, what could I do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I hated being so powerless.
“Of course. That’s the best marketing I can get.”
My heart moved back into its right place.
“But if you can’t use the LeBlanc & Broussard logo, then what’s the point?”
He tilted his head. “That will make things a bit more complicated, but if we keep showing up at the same events where you’ve been for years, that would help spread the word that it’s the same product. But we would have to come up with another marketing plan regardless.”
I wasn’t entirely convinced, and I could tell he wasn’t either, but I didn’t press the issue.
He smiled. “Thanks a lot for indulging me, and on Christmas Eve no less. I assume Xander will be in touch about whatever will happen next.”
“I’m sure he will.” Or not, considering he didn’t even tell me about you showing up.
“I wish you a great Christmas, Bailey.”
“And you too.”
I meant it, despite everything. Everyone deserved to have a nice, relaxed holiday.
After he left, I headed back to the kitchen. Grabbing my phone, I turned the volume back up on my carols, needing to get into the Christmas spirit now more than ever. I also needed to keep my pralines from burning, so I rounded the counter and checked the oven—albeit with a heavy heart.
***
Xander