Brady finished his food first and sat back with his beer, tapping it on the edge of his chair. “We could use Taylor full-time in the kitchen.”
I shrugged with frustration. “I’m sure you could, since Taylor’s great at what she does for you guys. I know she’s expressed an interest in baking, too. The problem is, I need her for the front, or I’m sunk.”
Haylee smiled and winked. “We know, which is why we haven’t said anything yet. We wanted to talk to you first. From what we can see, you need at least another full-time and half-time person in the front.”
“But we think it should be two full-time people so you can go down to half-time in the front,” Brady finished.
“Or two full-time and a half-time. Then you don’t have to be in the front at all,” Haylee said, a brow up.
“My leg isn’t that bad,” I said on an eye roll.
“Yes, it is,” they said in unison, and I grunted.
“I need to work more than part-time guys. The last time I checked, I am the co-owner of that business, not you two,” I said, standing angrily. Haylee grabbed my arm before I could leave, and Brady grabbed the potato salad from the table. “I’m going to put this in the fridge and grab the cake.” Before I could say anything, he was gone.
Haylee pointed at my chair and waited for me to sit down again. The sun was sinking in the sky, and I just wanted to finish this business meeting so I could go home and cry myself to sleep.
“We aren’t trying to take over the business, Amber.”
I sighed and let my chin drop to my chest. “I know, but it does feel like that sometimes. I’m just out of sorts if I’m honest. It used to be the two of us against the world. Now I feel like a third wheel to the dream team. I wish I hadn’t come up with that stupid saying last year.”
She snickered and shook her head at me. “I don’t exactly think you came up with it, but we have noticed you stopped using it. You aren’t a third wheel. There are still only two of us powering the bike. Brady knows and respects that. He didn’t even want to be here tonight.”
“But he is.”
She nodded and tipped her head to the side. “I asked him to be, only because I knew I’d need back up with you. You have stubborn in spades, and you don’t always listen the first time I say something. Sometimes, you need it said in both ears. That doesn’t mean he’s making any decisions in regards to what we do going forward at The Fluffy Cupcake.”
“But he’d like to,” I said smartly. “I can tell when he’s biting his tongue.”
“No, he doesn’t want any part in managing the bakery beyond what I task him with in the kitchen. When he’s biting his tongue, it’s to keep from saying that you need to take care of yourself and stop pushing before you do damage that you can’t walk back.”
“I’m lucky to walk at all,” I muttered.
She pointed at me again. “That’s our point! Gah, you’re so stubborn!”
I tossed my arms up in frustration. “I’m not stubborn, but what the hell am I supposed to do? I can’t just decide to stop working!”
She held her hands out to quiet me. “I know, that’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is, sometimes you have to slow down when things get tough, so you don’t have to stop working.”
“Easy to say, hard to do when people are counting on you, Hay-Hay. I didn’t think I had to explain this to you of all people. We take care of each other, and I’m not walking away during the busiest season at The Fluffy Cupcake.”
“We don’t want you to walk away. We want you to work smarter, not harder.”
“If I’m not working in the front, then I’m not working.”
“That’s not true,” she said, taking out a notebook from her purse as Brady arrived back at the table with the cake. He handed out plates and sat quietly, eating his cake and watching the lake beyond the trees. “You’d be working.”
“Hey, there’s Bishop,” Brady said, pointing into the yard across from us.
I swung my head automatically, my cheeks heating when our eyes locked. I waved awkwardly, and he waved back equally as awkward.
“Mind if I go chat with him?” Brady asked.
Haylee and I shook our heads at the same time.
He bussed her on the cheek on the way by and jogged across the driveway to talk to the guy I wished I was talking to, just to be anywhere but here, I realized. Faced with the truth of how my life had already changed was uncomfortable and challenging to grasp fully.
“As I was saying,” she said, pointing to the notebook, so I leaned in to read it better. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Brady and Bishop walking down to the lake, laughing like women at a coffee klatsch. I huffed and tried to focus back on Haylee. Unfortunately, my mind wanted to focus on a sexy teacher and single dad who had the most expressive, understanding eyes of anyone I’d ever met.
“And then we’re going to sell fish from a tank against the far wall to go with the bread.”
I tipped my head to the side and studied her for a moment. “What now?”
She snorted and shook her head. “You’re a million miles away tonight. Or rather, across the yard, it seems.”
I rubbed my face and sighed. “Sorry, I’m just—”
“Spread too thin?”
“Maybe a little bit in the current climate,” I agreed.
“More like you’re stretched so thin that you’re close to snapping. You’re carrying more than your share of the burden. You can’t do it all, but you’re trying to, and it’s wearing you out.”
“Truer words,” I muttered while I shook my head. “I have a lot of ideas I’d like to do with the bakery, but I don’t have time to implement the marketing strategies or work with you and Brady to brainstorm new product ideas. The business has exploded over the last three years—there’s no doubt about that. The last year, though.” I made the mind-blown motion with my hands and shook my head. “We rake in cash hand over fist, but it feels like we’re just treading water.”
“We are,” she agreed. “I feel the same way in the kitchen. I want to try new things, but we just don’t have the time with all the special orders.”
“And having a third baker would help with that?”
She nodded immediately. “Having a third baker would let us spread the baking out throughout the day. Another baker could get all the basic cakes made and ready for me to decorate. They could help Brady by starting some of his doughs or panning and pulling from the oven to prepare for pickup in the morning. I know those orders are bringing in a shit ton of cash, so we need to keep them, but we need help. Desperately.”
“You think Taylor is right for the job?”
“Absolutely. Taylor already knows the ingredients and what orders go to what companies since she’s doing all the ordering and prep for them every day. She’s quick to pick up new things, and the other day when I was called away, she pulled all the cakes and organized them in the cooler for me to finish.”
“I’ve noticed she seems happier now that she’s not up front all the time. Not that I can blame her. The customers can sometimes be overwhelming. That said, if I give you Taylor, then I’m down another part-time front person.”
“If I have my way, you’d be down one full-time and one part-time person.”
I leaned in and twisted her notebook around to read it better. What I saw there had my heart sinking and my heart soaring at the same time. I always thought that was something people just said, but when faced with a situation like this, there was no other way to feel.
“HOWDY, NEIGHBOR,” A voice said from the driveway. “Are you okay?”
My head snapped to the left, and I sat up in the chair, surprised to see the sun was down and the crickets were chirping. Brady and Haylee had left an hour ago, and I had stayed outside to think about what she had to say. I must have fallen asleep.
“Hi,” I said, wondering if I could stand up without falling after sitting for so long. “I’m fine. I was just sitting out here thinking.” I registered a c
rackling and then noticed the campfire in his yard. “I guess you’ve been watching me sleep.”
He chuckled and motioned at the missing fence. “I suppose the fence did keep the nosy neighbors away, but I didn’t mind the view one bit. Want to come and sit by the fire?”
“Sure,” I agreed, pushing myself up. “I have some orange creamsicle cake. Are you interested?”
“Do fourth graders love dodgeball?”
“My assumed answer is no, but something tells me it’s yes.”
He chuckled and bounced on his toes. “Secret aggressions and all that.”
“Boy, do I know about those,” I muttered, taking a moment to make sure my leg was under me before I moved. “I’ll grab the cake and meet you over there.”
He jogged over and grabbed my elbow, helping me to the door. “I’ll wait here and carry the cake for you. It’s dark, and I don’t want you to fall.”
I nodded vaguely and slid the door open, thankful the lights were off. There was enough ambient light from outside that I could make it to the bathroom where I quickly checked my hair, washed my face, and used the facilities. I grabbed a couple of Tylenol from the bottle in the kitchen and swallowed them down before I pulled the cake from the fridge along with two forks, and made my way back to the door.
He took the cake in one hand and my elbow in the other and helped me across the uneven ground to a chair by the fire. He pulled his chair closer to mine and held the cake out. “This looks delicious.”
“Well, Haylee Davis made it, so yeah, it’s delicious.”
He chuckled and took a fork, stabbing into a piece and savoring the flavor on his tongue. “Man, you aren’t kidding. Everything she makes is amazing.”
“Orange creamsicle is her favorite, so she’s especially good at this one. I swear she can bake it in her sleep.”
He laughed and leaned back in the chair while he finished his piece. “She probably has. I can’t imagine being a baker and working that early every day.”
I nodded without speaking, staring into the fire and then up into the sky. It was cloudy like it had been all day but also humid and hot. I was worried about storms, and I was searching the horizon for any sign of a problem.
“I had a nice talk with Brady,” he said, and I nodded, my eyes still on the blackened sky. I didn’t want to miss any early signs of a storm. “We talked about grilled cheese on his famous sourdough bread, which he promised me a loaf of, and how Lake Pendle is filled with sharks. I’m told they like to nibble at your toes.”
“Mmm-hmm,” I said, nodding along as he spoke. His laughter filled the air, and I whipped my head in his direction. “What’s so funny?”
He was shaking his head at me as he finished his slice of cake. “I just told you Lake Pendle was full of sharks. You said mmm-hmmm.” `
I rubbed my temple with fatigue. “Sorry, I’m a little bit distracted tonight.”
“I can tell. Want to talk about it?”
“No, but only because I haven’t worked it out in my head yet.”
“Which is kind of the point of talking it out,” he said on a chuckle. “At least that’s what they told me in college.”
A rumble of thunder filled the air, and I jumped, my gaze back on the sky to search out the lightning.
“It’s a long way away,” he said immediately. “There wasn’t even any lightning.”
His words didn’t comfort me the way he expected them to. I understood that the way I felt about storms wasn’t normal. I understood that other people thought I was looney tunes, but that didn’t make being me any easier.
“How was your day?” I asked to change the subject. “I suppose the summer is full of to-do lists you don’t get to finish during the school year.”
“You aren’t kidding. There’s always something to do around here, and that’s not even taking the curriculum work, classroom orders, and reading recommendations to finish into account. People think teachers have the summer off,” he said in quotation marks, “but that’s so far from the truth.”
“At least you get paid, right?” I said on a laugh.
He shook his head. “Actually, I don’t get paid. I mean, I get a paycheck, yes, but only because they take my pay for nine months and spread it across twelve. I have the choice to take it all from September to June and just get bigger checks, but then you have to be dedicated to saving money to get you through the summer, or you have to work a summer job. By taking smaller checks across the twelve months, you always have income.”
I tipped my head to the side. “So wait. If you’re getting paid in the summer, but it’s money you earned during the nine months you were teaching, that means you aren’t getting paid for the extra work you do in the summer.”
He touched his nose. “Ding-ding, you win the prize,” he said, laughter filling his voice. “That’s being a teacher. Sure, if we’re doing heavy curriculum writing, we will get a stipend to do that, but for the most part, all of the other stuff we do during the summer to prepare for the next year isn’t paid.”
“I had no idea,” I said with a shake of my head. “Like none. I always thought teachers got paid to do nothing in the summer.”
He laughed, but it wasn’t his usual laughter. He wasn’t amused, which was easy to hear. “You aren’t alone. The majority of people think the same. The truth is, we don’t have the summer off,” which he put in quotation marks again. “We aren’t on family vacations and frolicking in the water all summer. The thing is, I love it enough not to care. It is super annoying when people yell loudly about teachers making all this money to sit on their butts all summer and do nothing. If only they knew what we do, the programs we plan, the classrooms we organize and stock from our own funds, and the planning and collaborating we do during those twelve short weeks. Teaching always has been and always will be a thankless profession, which is okay by me. My job satisfaction comes from knowing my students will go on to do great things.”
“That’s true,” I agreed, holding the cake on my lap, but not eating it. “I’m sure that’s a perk every teacher appreciates as the years go on.”
Another clap of thunder hit, and I jumped up, nearly tossing the cake into the fire before he caught it, bringing it into his chest. A raindrop landed on my nose as a jagged bolt of lightning streaked across the lake.
“I want to go inside,” I said, my voice shaky.
“It’s just a little summer storm, Amber. It will pass.”
“I want to go inside,” I said, louder this time and with less stability in my voice when more thunder and lightning filled the air. “I want to go inside! I want to go inside!”
The rain came down heavier now, and he grasped my elbow and helped me up the rickety steps of his deck. “I’ll go home!” I said over the sound of the thunder rumbling overhead.
“Get inside,” he ordered, sliding the patio door open and pushing me through, then coming in behind me to close it just as the wind picked up. He set the cake plate on his small dining room table that was circa the 1980s and eyed the yard. “I want to make sure the fire goes out,” he explained as the rain came down in a sheet.
The wind started to howl, and I backed up toward the front of the house, fear filling me. “I want to go home. I have to go home. I have to go home now.”
He turned away from the door and shook his head. “Not wise. Better to stay here until the storm blows over. It shouldn’t be too long. The good news is, the fire is out.”
He was teasing, but my heart was pounding as the rain drenched the front of the patio doors. I kept backing up into the room and fell over the arm of the couch rather ungracefully. I was on my feet again instantly when another clap of thunder shook the house.
I had my hands over my ears now, my whole body consumed by fear. “I want to go home!”
He held his hands out while he walked toward me. “I finished my man cave in the basement the other day. Would you like to see it?” he asked, opening a door and flipping on a light.
I nodded, afraid
no words would come out if I tried to speak. I walked toward him, and he grasped my elbow. “Be careful going down. The stairs have carpet so they can be slippery.”
All I wanted to do was run down them, but my hands and legs were shaking, so I took them as slowly and carefully as I could until I made it to the bottom. I was grateful when Bishop followed me down the stairs after shutting the door. I was also thankful that the small windows in the basement didn’t let in much evidence of the storm raging outside.
My legs were shaking so hard I had to sit, or I’d fall. I sank onto the L-shaped couch that lined one side of the room, glad for the coolness that grounded me. It was leather and enveloped you into the soft, buttery cushions. I put my hands to my ears and leaned over my knees, my body rocking slightly. The cushion depressed next to me when he sat, his hand rubbing my back up and down. After a few minutes, his hand chased away the shaking and calmed me down enough that I could breathe again. The thunder was lessening, which meant the storm was moving out and away from us. My hands slowly slid from my ears, embarrassment likely tinging my face a bright red.
He kept his hand on my back but motioned at the room in front of us. “Do you like it? It’s kind of a movie room, man cave, and guest room in one. I have the projector set up for movies, and back there,” he said, pointing at a wall, “is an extra bed for guests. I have a second bedroom upstairs, too. I have that set up as the main guest room for when Athena comes to visit. There’s also a large loft room on the top floor. I’m just using that for storage right now.”
“It’s unexpectedly roomy. The house looks smaller than it is,” I said, my voice trembling when another clap of thunder rumbled over us.
He nodded his agreement. “Exactly what I thought when I saw the place. It’s nice to have a finished space like this, even though I live by myself. I hope eventually to have a family to share it with.” He held my gaze for a beat before he spoke again. “Feeling better?”
Tart (The Fluffy Cupcake Book 2) Page 7
