“How long have you been waiting for this?”
Amanda Russo regarded her best friend and did a mental calculation. “Ten years? Pretty much since the divorce.”
Erin nodded. “Fucking Mel.”
She snickered. It was Erin’s stock reply anytime anyone referenced Amanda’s ex. Even though she and Mel were on good terms at this point, she appreciated the loyalty. “But if she hadn’t left, we might still be together. Just think how wretched that would be.”
It was her standard answer, a reminder to herself as much as an attempt to soften the insult.
“So wise. So mature. So you.” Erin bowed, her way of conceding the point. “Enough about her. Tell me everything.”
Amanda took a deep breath and looked around the small eating area of her bakery. It held exactly five tables, each with two chairs. Another five chairs lined the wall and could be squeezed in here and there. But if they all happened to be in use, things got uncomfortably tight. Okay, fire code capacity tight.
Not for long. She’d bought the building so she could expand into the empty storefront next door, meaning more seating than she could possibly need and twice as much kitchen space. The prospect thrilled and slightly terrified her. “I’m meeting with the architect tomorrow.”
Erin clapped her hands together and rubbed them in a way that did double duty for enthusiasm and maniacal plotting. “Boy or girl?”
Amanda made a face. “Are we twelve?”
“I act twelve and you act eighty. We balance out to sassy middle age.”
“Hey, now.” She had to protest, even if it was true.
“Well?”
“She. Quinn Sullivan. Based in Ithaca. Came highly recommended by Rob over at Fairmount Ridge Winery.”
Erin hummed her approval. “Excellent. Age? Orientation? Is she hot? Single?”
“I’m hiring her, not hooking up with her.”
“You say that like it can’t be both.”
Erin dated. Amanda did not. Pretty much ever at this point. Not that she was opposed. She just had plenty of other things to occupy her time. And her last attempt a few years prior had left her disappointed, if not completely jaded. Much like her opinion of Mel, Erin’s thoughts on Amanda’s celibacy were singularly focused. Like with Mel, Amanda had a stock answer. “I’m not looking to hook up. Certainly not with someone I’m working with.”
“You should consider being a little less picky.”
“Because lowered standards are the key to happily ever after?”
Erin wagged a finger. “Nobody said anything about ever after. We’re talking about the here and now. And if a hot woman shows up tomorrow, you have no reason not to invite her over for dinner and take her to bed.”
“I couldn’t possibly.” The mere thought sent a tingle of nerves through her.
“You could. It’s the would, or maybe the won’t, that’s tripping you up and I think it’s high time you got over it.”
Amanda shook her head again but laughed. “I’ll take it under consideration.”
“Good. Now, tell me about your plans.”
“That’s what I was trying to do when you hijacked the conversation with sex talk.”
“Sex”—Erin poked her right in the chest—“is the conversation. And maybe you should consider being hijacked. It would be good for you.”
Instead of arguing, she launched into her ideas for the bakery. The added seating would make Bake My Day a place where people could sit and enjoy, rather than just pick up, their favorite treat. She planned to start lunch service in earnest. She’d dabbled in soup and sandwiches but wanted to add more options. Salads. Quiche, perhaps.
It also meant she’d have a dedicated space for decorating cakes. As weddings and bachelorette parties and birthdays got fancier, the demand for high-end cakes grew exponentially. New space would mean she could frost and fondant without disrupting the baking that gave her the cakes to frost in the first place. It was a lot to take on, but she was ready. At least that’s what she told herself every time she had a moment of what the hell had she been thinking.
Erin nodded and tutted her agreement. “I love it. So, this architect, Quinn, is going to design it? Or do it? I’m not sure I know what an architect does.”
She hadn’t either, beyond designing buildings from the ground up. But Rob assured her it was worth it to hire a pro and she trusted his judgment. “She’s going to assess the space, assess what can be done, and hopefully come up with something that doesn’t look like I knocked down a wall and hoped for the best.”
“Fun.”
“And hopefully she has contractors she works with because I really, really don’t want to deal with contractors.”
Erin lifted both hands. “Preach.”
They’d both had less than stellar experiences—Erin with a bathroom remodel and Amanda with an update of her kitchen. “Rob swears she saved him money in the long run.”
“Even if she doesn’t, saved headaches are priceless.” Erin sipped her coffee and looked up at the ceiling. “Hot and fuckable would be bonus.”
“Erin.” She hadn’t meant to use her scolding mom voice; it came out of its own volition.
Erin shrugged, unfazed. “I’m just saying. Anyway, what time is she coming? Maybe I can time my morning coffee to snag a look.”
“You realize that makes me less likely to tell you the truth, right?”
“I’d behave.” She fluttered her eyelashes, all innocence.
“I love you like a sister, but no, you would not.”
“It’s why you love me.”
That part was true. Erin had fewer filters, fewer inhibitions, and a bigger taste for adventure. And wine. Between that and being a decade younger, Erin managed to keep Amanda from becoming too much of a stick in the mud. “It is.”
She sighed. “I don’t want to go to work.”
“But if you don’t, who will keep the streets of Kenota safe?”
“Yeah, that pack of raccoons has really been terrorizing folks.”
“Easy for you to say. They’ve not upended your garbage twice in the last week and a half.”
Erin pressed her lips together. “Tragic.”
Amanda stood and smacked her on the arm. “Get out of here. I’ve got work to do.”
“Fine. Do I want a donut for the road or a croissant?”
“Um.” It was a rhetorical question, but she couldn’t help but think on it. Erin, who ate like a linebacker and never gained an ounce, had already inhaled a muffin with her coffee.
Erin waved her off. “What am I saying? I’ll take both.”
Of course she would. “I’m going to leave you in Mei’s capable hands.”
Amanda gave her a hug and headed back to the kitchen. She found her assistant Tanya filling a row of cake pans. “I’ve got one more batch after this and the table is yours.”
When she’d opened the bakery fifteen years prior, the kitchen had felt massive. Compared to her home kitchen, where she’d baked cakes and cookies as a side hustle to her job at the Statler Hotel, it was. Even if she had moments of frustration with her current situation, outgrowing her space was a very satisfying problem to have. “Take your time. I’m going to make modeling chocolate and start the gum paste flowers for next weekend.”
“When are you meeting with the architect again?”
She laughed. Tanya’s interest might be even keener than Erin’s, but it had nothing to do with whether or not the architect was hot. Or single. “Tomorrow.”
Tanya slid pans into the convection oven. “Not a moment too soon.”
* * *
Quinn studied the front of Bake My Day. She’d been there a handful of times, mostly with Lesedi. They’d spend Saturdays meandering the Seneca Lake wine trail and would stop in for coffee or a fortifying treat after sampling one too many local vintages. It somehow felt like a lifetime ago and just last week. Was that standard protocol for life a year after divorce?
Inside, the question evaporated with the aroma of donuts, muffins, and God only knew what else. She closed her eyes for a second and breathed it in, letting her sweet tooth momentarily rule her imagination. She’d get something, or maybe several somethings, to take home. And perhaps a cup of coffee. The smell of fresh espresso and the hiss of steam coming from the machine tempted her almost as much as the pastries. Almost.
She had an idea of what Amanda looked like from her photo on the website. Well, that and they’d technically met a couple of the times she’d been in. Since she was nowhere to be seen, Quinn joined the queue. It wouldn’t be rude to bring a latte into her meeting, would it?
When her turn came, she offered the woman behind the register a smile. “Good morning. I have a meeting with Ms. Russo.”
The woman, whose name tag read Tanya, gave her a quizzical look. “Is this about a cake?”
She was tempted to make a joke about wishing it was, but a number of people had joined the line after her and it felt rude to take more time than was necessary. “No, no. I’m her architect.”
Tanya’s eyes got big. “Right. That’s today. Oh, we’re so excited. Can I get you something while you wait?”
Memories of her marriage or not, she liked this place. “That would be fantastic.”
Tanya called her coffee order to the guy working the espresso machine. “Something to eat? The donut of the week is strawberries and cream.”
She should decline. She was about to take a business meeting. And she already had plans to bring things home. “Sold.”
Tanya grinned and nodded her approval. “You go make yourself comfortable. We’ll bring it over to you and I’ll let Amanda know you’re here.”
Quinn pulled her wallet from her back pocket, but Tanya waved her away. “Amanda would have my head.”
The choice of phrase gave Quinn pause. Was she kidding or was Amanda a tyrant? She’d figure out one way or the other soon enough. She’d barely settled at a table by the window before her coffee and donut appeared. “Thanks.”
Tanya poked her head into the kitchen. When she emerged, she looked Quinn’s way. “She just needs to clean up. She’ll be with you in a few minutes.”
Quinn didn’t mind waiting in general, but especially when she had a gorgeous sugar bomb in front of her. She took a sip of her coffee—even better than she remembered—then dove in. The donut was fried to perfection and dusted with powdered sugar. The filling, though, put it over the edge. Fresh strawberries surrounded by a heavenly concoction somewhere between custard and whipped cream. It oozed onto her fingers. She licked it away, not wanting a drop to go to waste.
“Quinn?”
She looked up, thumb still in her mouth. Amanda was prettier than Quinn remembered, her features softer. And, because that’s how her life worked, here she was looking like an idiot. She grabbed a napkin and wiped her fingers as she stood. She extended her hand, glad it wasn’t the one she’d been licking. “Ms. Russo. Yes, hi.”
Amanda shook her hand, an unreadable smile on her lips. “Amanda, please. Thank you for offering to meet me here.”
“Of course. I’d want to see the space sooner rather than later anyway.”
Amanda took the seat across from her. She bit her lip in a way that might be flirtatious. Could Amanda be flirting with her? Either way, it bumped Quinn’s pulse up a few notches. Even if she had no business flirting with a client. “So, let’s start with your big ideas and then we can get into the nitty-gritty.”
“You, um…” She trailed off, leaving Quinn to wonder if maybe she made Amanda nervous.
Quinn offered her most reassuring smile. “I what?”
“You have some powdered sugar on your nose.” Amanda bit her lip again, and seemed to be stifling a laugh.
Quinn’s stomach dropped. She grabbed a napkin and wiped it across her face. “Did I get it?”
“Not quite.” This time Amanda did chuckle. She picked up another napkin and leaned across the table. “May I?”
Mortified, all she could do was nod.
“There.”
“Thanks.” Quinn swiped her hand over her face. She didn’t think Amanda would lie at this point, but it was like having a spider crawling up her arm. The phantom tickle got the better of her and probably would for the rest of the morning.
“I really did get it. Sorry. I figured you’d rather know than get in your car and realize it had been there the whole time.”
The sincerity of Amanda’s voice lessened her embarrassment, at least a little. “I appreciate it. Really.”
“Considering it was one of my donuts you were enjoying, I take it as a compliment.”
“That’s nice of you to say.” It was. Under normal circumstances, it would break the tension and be the end of it. Too bad she’d interpreted the whole thing as flirting.
Amanda clasped her hands together. “So, let’s talk about why you’re here.”
She appreciated Amanda’s ability to shift the conversation away from her gaffe so smoothly. “Yes. Right. You’re expanding.”
Amanda’s eyes lit up then, enthusiasm radiating from her. “That’s the plan. I’m taking over the space next door.”
“Aha.” She’d noticed the empty storefront when she parked. It looked like a mirror of Bake My Day, only she hadn’t been able to tell what it was before and had no memory of ever setting foot inside. “Has it been vacant long?”
“About a year. It was an inspirational gift shop.”
That would explain why she hadn’t been inside. “And it’s similar in size to what you have here?”
“Identical, only they didn’t take half the floor space for a kitchen. There’s only a small storeroom in the back.”
She could work with that. “And what’s your vision?”
Amanda let out a small sigh. She’d clearly been thinking about this for a long time. “I’m hoping to completely reconfigure the major equipment in the kitchen. I need more work space, mostly for assembling and decorating wedding cakes, but I think it makes sense to improve the overall flow.”
Quinn opened the notebook she’d brought and started scribbling notes. “It shouldn’t be difficult to combine the spaces and create something more efficient.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. The other big thing is more seating. We started offering lunch a few months back and people have to take it to go because there’s nowhere to sit.”
Quinn hadn’t sampled the lunch offerings, but if they were half as good as everything else, it would follow that business was booming. “But you don’t want it to feel like an add-on.”
“Yes. Exactly. I don’t want customers to feel like they’re at the kiddie table in the living room for Thanksgiving dinner.”
She chuckled at the analogy because of just how well she could relate. “We’ll have to see how much of the wall can go without having to put in new beams.”
“I should say up front it’s the part I’m willing to splurge on. It’s that important.”
It was hard to say which she liked more—Amanda’s willingness to splurge or the fact that she cared about such a key architectural feature. “Then that’s what you’ll have.”
“I was hoping you’d say that, too.” Amanda smiled again. This time, it was all enthusiasm. Which Quinn didn’t mind. This was, after all, a professional arrangement.
“Have you taken over the lease of the other space? Can we get in and walk through now?”
“One better. I bought the building.”
One better indeed. They wouldn’t have to worry about any approvals beyond the usual permits and things. “Fantastic.”
“Shall we?”
“Please.”
Amanda led her next door. She could already see the wall gone. They could add a second display case, another register. More lighting and, as Amanda mentioned, more seating. Probably three times as much as she had now. It wasn’t hard to imagine the bakery going from a place to grab a quick bite to a destination. She’d make a point of coming more often for sure. For the food, of course, but also to maybe spend time with the beautiful owner, without powdered sugar on her face.
“Why do you look so worried?” Amanda’s question cut through the haze of her imagination.
Quinn cleared her throat. “Not worried. Getting a little ahead of myself. I have that tendency sometimes.”
“I imagine it’s a good trait in your line of work.”
Work. Right. That was the point. Not her fantasies of spending mornings working at one of the new tables and chatting up Amanda when she emerged from the kitchen. “It has its perks I suppose.”
They spent a few minutes discussing next steps: measurements, initial blueprints, a visit from a structural engineer. Quinn scheduled an appointment to return the following week and bid Amanda a good day. But not before snagging a few cupcakes and another one of those strawberry donuts for the road.