The Icing on the Cake (Otter Bluff)

by Linda Seed

  After lengthy consideration, she’d decided to look for investors. True, that would introduce the idea of other people having a say in how she ran her business. But that arrangement would allow her the time to build her bakery before she had to worry about paying anyone back—which she might not be able to do for a while.

  Naturally, she started with her parents, not because they were drowning in a sea of money, but because they’d be offended if she didn’t include them.

  “So, that’s my plan,” she told them after dinner that night, after she’d laid out everything she’d shown Brian. “If you say yes, I’ll work with a lawyer—I’ve already got one—to put together a contract and work out the terms. And if you say no, it’s okay. It really is. I would never expect you to get involved if you can’t afford it or if you don’t believe in it. So don’t worry about that.” She waited, barely able to breathe, while her parents looked at each other.

  Vince put down his mug of tea, folded his hands under his chin, and regarded his youngest daughter as the three of them sat around the kitchen table, Cassie’s laptop open in front of them. “You’ve really thought this out.”

  “Yes. I have.”

  “Nancy? What do you think?”

  Nancy’s eyes were shimmering with tears, which alarmed Cassie.

  “Mom? What’s wrong? Oh, God. I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t—”

  “You didn’t upset me, Cassie. I’m just so proud. You’re going to do this—you really are.”

  “Oh.” Cassie felt her throat close and her eyes fill with tears. She leaned over and embraced her mother, hard. When she let go, she wiped her eyes and let out a shaky laugh. “You guys should take some time to think about it, though.”

  “I think we’re together on this.” Vince raised his eyebrows at Nancy, who nodded. “How much do you need, total?”

  She told him.

  “Well, that’s a lot.”

  “It is,” Cassie agreed.

  “Nancy? How much do you think we could swing?”

  She told him a figure—one that nearly made Cassie gasp.

  “You don’t have that much,” Cassie protested.

  “Like hell we don’t,” Vince said. “We’ve been saving. We’ve always been savers, you know that.”

  “Yes, but … what about your retirement?”

  “Let us worry about our retirement,” Nancy said.

  “But … but most businesses fail in the first year,” Cassie said. “I want you to be prepared for that. I don’t want—”

  “Are you trying to talk us into it or out of it?” Vince gave his daughter a stern look.

  “I just want … I want to open the bakery, but I also don’t want my parents living in a box on the side of the road if I fail.”

  Vince laughed. “Honey, I wouldn’t offer you anything we can’t afford. Now, are you going to let us invest, or not?”

  “Did you know Mom and Dad have money?” Cassie asked Lacy on the phone later that day.

  “Of course. You didn’t?”

  “No! How would I know that? They’ve lived in the same too-small house for thirty-five years. They hardly ever take a vacation, and when they do, they stay in budget motels. Why would I have thought they had money?”

  “That’s why they have money,” Lacy said. “Because they never spend it on anything.”

  They talked a little about what Nancy and Vince had decided about Cassie’s business; how Lacy’s kids and Daniel were doing; the latest gossip from the Main Street coffeehouse where Lacy used to work and where she still hung out; and about Lacy’s plans to get a job in the next year or so, once Trevor was old enough for her to feel okay about leaving him with a babysitter.

  Then Cassie got around to the reason for her call.

  “Do you think you could get me a meeting with Jackson Graham?”

  Jackson was the head chef at Neptune, and he was also married to Kate Bennet, one of Lacy’s best friends. If Cassie could secure a deal to provide baked goods to Neptune, that would go a long way toward convincing potential investors to take a risk on her bakery.

  “I’m sure I could,” Lacy said thoughtfully. “But Jackson would never work with you before the health department signs off.”

  “Oh, I know. I get that. But if he’ll consider it—if he’ll just say that he’s seriously thinking about it—I think that would really help. And … there’s one more thing.” Cassie didn’t see the need to mention that the one more thing was the main reason she was calling.

  “Sure. Shoot.”

  “Could you maybe ask Gen if she’d consider talking to me about this?”

  Genevieve Porter was a local art dealer. She had a gallery on Main Street and, more significantly, she had married into the Delaney family. The Delaneys, who owned a large cattle ranch, weren’t just rich. They were wealthy, which was an entirely different category. Gen was a close personal friend of Lacy’s, and while Cassie didn’t particularly relish taking advantage of that connection, she also wasn’t too proud to at least try it.

  “Oh, boy,” Lacy said.

  Cassie understood the reason for Lacy’s reaction, but she pressed forward anyway. “I know it’s a lot to ask. I know Gen and Ryan probably get all kinds of people approaching them for their money, and you’ve never been one of those, and it’s weird for you to start being one now. For me. So, if you want to say no, I get it. I really do. But—”

  “I’ll ask her,” Lacy said.

  Cassie felt a burst of joy and enthusiasm well up in her chest. “You will?”

  “I will. But, Cassie, if the answer is no, then it’s no.”

  “Of course!”

  “I mean it. She’s one of my best friends. If she doesn’t want to do it and you pressure her …”

  “I won’t. I swear.”

  “Okay. Then I’ll set it up.”

  The next few days were busy ones for Cassie. She consulted her attorney to nail down the specifics of what she would be presenting to Gen, she baked a variety of things to give to Jackson Graham, she wrote a formal business plan, and she still had to work at Central Coast Escapes, cleaning houses and working the reception desk.

  She fell into bed exhausted each night—usually with Brian beside her.

  The more work she did, the more she was sure she could make this happen.

  By the time she met with Jackson on a Thursday afternoon, she had rehearsed every word she intended to say. She showed up wearing a skirt, a blazer, and sensible pumps, carrying a stack of bakery boxes full of samples and a file folder with the information she wanted to show him.

  She was more than a little nervous, not just because of all that was at stake, but also because Jackson was notorious for his bad temper.

  As it happened, the whole thing was shorter, more casual, and far less stressful than she’d thought it might be.

  “Huh.” Jackson peered into the box with his eyebrows raised, appraising the rolls, pastries, and miniature cakes she’d brought. The two of them were sitting in his office off of the kitchen at Neptune.

  Cassie had already apprised him of the situation—how she was attempting to get her bakery up and running, and she needed to know that her products were viable so she could pursue investors. He’d already taken a brief look at her business plan.

  “I don’t expect any kind of commitment,” she said nervously as he looked into one of the boxes, appraising her work. “And I’m sure you already have a provider for your baked goods. So this probably isn’t—”

  “Are you trying to talk me out of it?” he asked, echoing what her father had said.

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Maybe less talking, then.” He pulled a sourdough roll out of the box, broke off a piece, and popped it into his mouth.

  If she’d expected him to rhapsodize over the flavor and texture, she was mistaken.

  His expression didn’t change as he chewed, then swallowed.

  Next he poked into one of the boxes with a fork and tried a bite of her
dark chocolate cake with chocolate ganache. Again, no response.

  “Jackson?” she asked timidly.

  He put up a finger to quiet her, then poked the fork in again and tasted a classic New York–style cheesecake.

  By the time he’d tasted most of what she’d brought, she was certain the answer was no. After all, he’d shown no reaction to anything he’d tried.

  Finally, he put down his fork, closed the boxes, and leaned back in his chair, putting one ankle atop the opposite knee. His chef’s coat was still crisply white, as it was still early in the day.

  “Well,” he said finally, “I can’t offer you any kind of deal until you get the permits and licensing worked out. But once you do, give me a call.”

  She blinked at him and sat up straighter in her seat. “Give you a call? What does that mean? Does it mean—”

  “It means give me a call.” He laced his fingers behind his head, leaning back so far in his office chair that it threatened to topple. “I do have a supplier, obviously, but they’ve lost their best baker—guy moved to San Francisco to get married—so the quality’s been going downhill. You get the paperwork done, I’ll give you a try. That cheesecake is really something, by the way.”

  “Oh. Oh, my gosh.” Cassie jumped up, ran over to him on her uncomfortable pumps, and hugged him. She wouldn’t have done that during a business meeting, usually, but she and Jackson knew each other through Lacy, so it wasn’t like he was just any random chef she’d approached about her baked goods.

  Her impulsive embrace threatened to make them both fall off of his steeply tilted chair, so he straightened, giving her back a friendly little pat-pat-pat.

  “Ah, man. Okay.” He laughed a little, and she finally let go of him.

  “You don’t know what this means to me, Jackson.”

  “I don’t? I had to start somewhere, too.” He straightened his coat, maybe blushing slightly from her hug. “But, listen. You screw up—you don’t give me the quality I need, or you come in short on the quantity—and I won’t give a shit whether you’re my wife’s friend’s sister. I’ll cut you loose even if it means I sleep in the guest room for a month.”

  “Understood.”

  Cassie left the restaurant smiling so hard she wondered if her face might break.

  Chapter 31

  The road toward owning a business wasn’t always smooth.

  Cassie contacted a number of restaurants—and a handful of coffeehouses—and was told at each one that they already had a supplier they were happy with or that they were unwilling to take a chance on an unproven baker.

  But Jackson Graham’s favorable response would go a long way in giving her credibility while she tried to gather capital.

  Which was exactly what she was doing when she met with Genevieve Porter and her husband, Ryan Delaney, at Gen and Ryan’s house the following week.

  Cassie knew Gen and Ryan through Lacy. She’d been to their house for barbecues, parties, informal gatherings. When she ran into either one of them around town, they stopped to ask after each other’s families and enjoy some friendly conversation. They weren’t strangers. They were friends.

  And that was what made this awkward. If she hadn’t known them at all, this would have been a simple business meeting. But because she did know them, it became so much more fraught with potential difficulty.

  “First, I just want to tell you that it’s okay to say no. In fact, I want you to say no if you don’t think this is the right move for you. I don’t want you to worry about your friendship with Lacy, or with me, or … or anything but business. After all, I’m new at this, and I’m going to make mistakes, and—”

  “Why are you arguing against yourself before you even make your pitch?” Gen asked.

  “That’s pretty much what Jackson said,” Cassie told her.

  They were sitting in Gen and Ryan’s kitchen in their house on the Delaney Ranch property, sipping coffee at the big farmhouse table. Cassie’s laptop was open on the table, and she’d brought a folder of papers detailing her business plan. She told them what she intended to do, where she wanted to open the bakery, who her intended customers would be, what she predicted her revenue to be in the first year, and how she intended to market her business.

  When she was done, she sat back and tried not to hold her breath.

  Gen nodded appreciatively, looking over the printout of the business plan. “I can see this working. I really can. If you were just doing wedding cakes, I think that would be too narrow a focus to make it viable. But this? You’re targeting the tourist trade as well as the local restaurants and the wedding business. This could be good.”

  Ryan rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “This location, it’s the old Moonstone Mocha place?”

  “Yes.” Cassie nodded. “It’s a great space, plus the kitchen was recently renovated. It’s perfect for what I want to do.”

  His eyebrows rose as he considered it. “That’s Joe Carter’s place. The building’s been empty for months, and Joe’s been hurting without any rent coming in. Be nice to help turn it around for him.”

  Cassie felt a surge of hope at his words.

  “And,” Gen said, “it’s not good for the town to have empty buildings on Main Street. It affects the property values for everyone.”

  “Does that mean you’ll consider it?” Cassie tried not to jump up and down with glee, as that wouldn’t be professional. It would also be downright embarrassing.

  “What kind of figure were you thinking?” Ryan asked.

  Cassie had already written out the terms she was hoping for. She took the sheet of paper out of her folder and slid it over to Ryan.

  “That’s a lot,” Ryan commented.

  Gen made a rude ppfft noise and smacked her husband on the shoulder. “Ryan, you earn that much interest in a week.”

  He grinned slightly, looking at the sheet of paper. “Well.”

  “Have your lawyer draw something up,” Gen said.

  That night, Cassie popped open a bottle of champagne at Brian’s house as the two of them sat on his sofa, Thor lounging on the cushions between them.

  “Here’s to Cassie’s Cakery,” she said, pouring frothy champagne into his glass.

  “So, you picked a name? I like it.” Brian waited for her to fill her own glass, then clinked his against hers, and they drank.

  “I thought about something more straightforward like Central Coast Cakes,” she told him. “But in the end, I wanted the name to be fun. Central Coast Cakes tells you what you need to know, but Cassie’s Cakery has personality.”

  “I agree.”

  She downed half of her glass in one triumphant gulp. “God. I can’t believe this is actually going to happen. My dream. It’s going to come true, for real. How many people can actually say that? I just hope …”

  “What?”

  “I hope I don’t screw it up. People are investing their hard-earned money with me. I hope I don’t let them down.”

  “You won’t.” He kissed her, and it made her head feel even more foggy than the champagne did.

  “How do you know I won’t?”

  “Because I know you. I know how much thought you put into this and how much you want it. You won’t let anybody down.”

  She leaned across Thor to kiss Brian, and Thor let out a whine of discomfort at the tight space. He wiggled around, stood up, and jumped down off the sofa, giving them what Cassie thought might be a scowl of disgust.

  “More room for me,” Brian said, scooting closer to Cassie.

  “Do you really think I can do it?” she asked.

  “I know you can. I just wish you’d let me invest.”

  “No. I don’t want to do that.” She snuggled up close to him to soften her words. “But there is something you can do for me.”

  “Well, okay, if I must.” He reached for her T-shirt and began pulling it up over her head. “Let’s get this off so I can get started.”

  “Not that.” She giggled—she actually giggled—but
let him take off the shirt.

  “What then?” He kissed her neck, then trailed kisses down past her collarbone and toward her breasts.

  “I …” She momentarily forgot what she was going to say. “I wanted to talk about… maybe some … some help with marketing.”

  He paused what he was doing and looked at her. “Sure. I can do that. Right now?”

  “No, not right now.” She gave his head a nudge to get him back to what he’d been doing. “We can do that later. Much later.”

  “Good plan,” he said, and swept his tongue inside the lacy edge of her bra.

  Now that Cassie had gotten the funding for her bakery worked out, Brian had the time and mental space to think about his mother.

  Things had been left unfinished with her. Cassie had made it clear that she was not going to do business with Lisa. But so much else was left unresolved. Brian still had things to say to his mother about how she’d tried to manipulate both him and Cassie.

  And he was worried, too. She hadn’t looked right when he’d seen her before. She’d seemed tired. Defeated. That was unusual for her—she usually was so self-confident. And it made no sense considering the fact that she was scheduled for a career-making solo show.

  So, what was going on?

  Brian didn’t like how she’d looked, and he didn’t like the fact that Lorenzo seemed to be trying to keep people away from her.

  Part of him said he should just mind his own business. His mother had decided early in his life that she didn’t want to be closely involved with him. So why should be trouble himself to become involved with her now?

  But another part of him knew that was crap. She was his mother. Regardless of what she had or had not done, she was still the woman who had given birth to him, and he still cared about her.

  Something was going on, and he needed to know what it was.

  “I’m going down there,” he told Cassie one night while they were in bed together, relaxed and sated after a particularly athletic round of lovemaking.