Chapter 2 #2
Since I walked in the door, I’ve done nothing but say things I didn’t intend to say. And all because I thought maybe today would be the day she might have some of that hummingbird cake.
“No, I’m sorry. That came out all wrong.” I drag a hand through my hair, which is starting to grow damp with sweat. “What I meant was that I don’t want you working in unsafe and uncomfortable conditions. Can I take a look at the thermostat?”
Rose nods, giving me a grateful smile as she waves me back toward the kitchen.
I don’t know the first thing about air conditioning or HVAC systems, but I had three boys.
Which means I’ve got a troubleshooting list that probably won’t apply here, but it’s a start.
The thermostat reads eighty-nine. The unseasonable October heat has only dropped a few degrees since I finished moving out of my Austin house.
It’s way too hot to be without air conditioning.
“What are you checking for?” Rose asks, as I manage to slide the unit off the wall.
“Batteries. The display still works, so it’s probably not that. My boys used to steal the thermostat batteries for their video game controllers.”
Rose wipes her forehead with the dishtowel again as she laughs. “And you thought I might have done the same?”
“Figured it was worth checking.” I snap the unit back in place.
I punch down the temp, but it’s already set at seventy-one.
I feel stupid for even checking. Maybe I had a tiny vision of finding some easy fix and being the hero of the day.
“And … that pretty much exhausted my knowledge of fixing the AC.”
“My son did the same thing a few times—stealing the batteries.”
“You’ve got kids?” I ask. In our few interactions, we never talked about our families or anything else personal. Now, suddenly, it feels like a vast oversight. I want to know everything.
I know Rose isn’t married, but I’m not sure if she’s divorced or widowed. I don’t know how long she’s been a baker or what brought her to Sheet Cake from Austin. I have to force myself not to ask her all these questions at once.
“I have a son and a daughter. Chelsea’s recently married and John is”—Rose looks up to the ceiling, like she’s searching for something positive to say— “working very hard to make his mark on the corporate world,” she finally finishes. “They’re both in Austin.”
I’d love to ask follow-up questions, but it’s even hotter back here than I expected.
I glance around, wondering if it’s because the ovens are on, but they’re not.
This is all trapped heat from the lack of air conditioning.
The counters are wiped clean, almost like I might expect at the end of the day.
A dozen sad, unfrosted cupcakes are still in their metal baking pans and there are a few loaves of bread, sweating in their clear plastic sleeves.
“I guess the heat has an impact on your baking? I saw that the pastry case was empty.”
“Baking is like chemistry. Things need to be exact. My bread dough overproofed and my buttercream slid right off the first batch of cupcakes, so I gave up. Plus, it’s pretty miserable.
I was thinking about closing temporarily.
I was going to call you,” she says quickly. “I just didn’t want to cause problems.”
“The AC is causing problems, not you,” I tell her.
I don’t like thinking about Rose trying to work or even just being here in these conditions. Then, of course, my mind goes to how not being able to bake might affect the daily profit and loss.
And what Rose’s financial situation is like.
At least fifty percent of small businesses fail. I’ve done my best to foster growth in Sheet Cake with fair rental prices and incentives—including a discount to any business owner choosing to live in the renovated lofts above the row of shops. Rose is one of those residents.
Even so—a small setback like this can start a ripple effect leading to losses that are hard to recoup.
I’ve watched both James and Collin as they poured their time and effort into their respective businesses.
They tried to tell me not to worry about them—ha!
—and I know they’d say the same in this situation.
Rose and her bakery don’t need to be my concern.
But I’m not a man who knows how to turn on and off concern like a tap. Once activated, my care for people is more like a fire hose. I like helping people. And it keeps me busy, whether it’s my kids, some kind of town business, or one of my tenants.
“Let’s do this,” I tell Rose in a tone of voice that expresses this isn’t up for discussion.
“It’s clearly too hot to bake. Why don’t you close up for the day?
” When I see her starting to protest, I hold up a hand.
“I’ll prorate the rent for the month and get my HVAC guy on the phone.
I’m sure we’ll have you up and running in no time. You can take a surprise day off.”
Rose doesn’t look as happy about this as I would have thought. “Okay.”
“What’s bothering you?” I ask. “Tell me. Please. Is it the money? Or—”
“The loft upstairs is just as hot,” she says with a wince. “Maybe even a little worse?”
The way her voice rises in a question gives me pause and makes me strongly suspect she’s downplaying what a little worse means. “How long has the AC been broken?”
“Um. A few days,” she says, then jumps in quickly to add, “But it didn’t start out this hot! It seemed warmer and then became a sort of … boiling-the-lobster situation.”
I find myself smiling again. “I see. You being the lobster?”
Rose shrugs and grins, looking a little sheepish. “I guess if the shell fits.”
Despite the fact that my worry is at a ten out of ten and I’m itching to get the HVAC guy on the phone, I can’t help but laugh at this. “You’re funny, Rose Roberts.”
She fans her cheeks with her hands. “Honestly, I think I’m just having a nervous reaction.”
“Nervous—because you thought I’d be mad? This is not your fault.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just you’re so … you know … you. I’ve been babbling basically since you walked in the door, and I realize I should have called sooner about the AC issue but I just didn’t want to bug you or—”
“Rose.”
I find that I keep saying her name. I’ve never met a Rose, and there’s something just so … wholesome about it. About her.
I’ve enjoyed talking to her so much that I’m actually surprised we’ve never held a conversation for longer than a few minutes.
Pat, who helps in a part-time capacity with my properties, gave Rose her initial tour and Thayden was with her to sign the leasing agreement.
I’ve had no real excuse to talk to her before now.
“Next time you have any kind of issue, call me immediately. I promise, the last thing you’ll do is bug me.”
“One problem. I don’t have your number,” she says. “I mean, I’m sure it’s in the paperwork somewhere but …”
“That’s an oversight on my part, but luckily, there’s an easy fix for that. What’s your number? I’ll text you now so you’ll have my info.”
We’re exchanging numbers for the sake of her business. So, why is a nervous energy pinballing through me as I type in her number and send a quick message?
Rose pulls her phone from a pocket in her apron, then laughs at my message, which was just Zoinks. “Nice. Now you’re saved in my phone for AC and other emergencies. Thank you.”
It doesn’t have to be just for emergencies, I think but don’t say.
And then I realize: this is a first. Not the first time I’ve ever given out my phone number. But it’s the first time I’ve done so in a way that feels like this. I’d like it if Rose texted or called. Not for landlord types of things but maybe for friendly reasons.
Or … more than friendly reasons?
The thought has my palms sweating even more.
“Well,” she says, starting to untie her apron, “thank you for all the help. I guess just let me know when it’s up and running and I’ll just consider this like a spa day where I’m spending it all in the sauna.”
“Absolutely not. Get your things and come on.”
“Where are we going?”
I actually don’t know. This whole thing is a plan coming together very much in the moment. But what I do know is that I’m not going to leave her to sweat this out, literally.
“Somewhere cooler,” I tell her. “And since I can’t promise when my guy can get out here, you’re coming with me.”