“Right, I’m sure you do.” Sally climbed down off the step stool. She removed the screwdriver attachment from the drill and put them both into her old black metal toolbox that sat on the floor, then stood and looked Claire in the eye. “I don’t think you need a big sale, though, just because the bread place is having one. Might be better to focus on those pipes. Just sayin’.”
“I’ll get the pipes fixed. Gotta find out about a loan first. And while I’m waiting, it won’t hurt to have a sale.” The pipes were important, too, but if Bradford Breads took all her customers, there might not be any point in fixing the pipes. Claire glanced in the direction of the bread store. She could just see the corner of the sign. Was it too early to call Stacy’s Signs?
Like many of the residents of Lobster Bay, Stacy also owed Claire. Last year, she’d forgotten to order a cake for her daughter-in-law’s baby shower. Claire had filled the order the morning of the shower as a favor, and now it was time to call that favor in. Images of a gigantic sign with a big pink cupcake and the wordsthree-for-onein big bold letters near the Sandcastles logo came to mind.
Sally clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth and crossed her arms over her chest. “I see you’ve got that look in your eye. But honestly, Claire, that bread place isn’t a threat to you. They make savory. You make sweet. You ought to team up, even. It’d be a marriage made in heaven.”
Claire jerked her gaze from the phone where she’d been scrolling for Stacy’s contact info. “Marriage, my butt.” The word stirred feelings in her best left forgotten. That part of her life was behind her. She’d come out ahead and was a better person for it, a more successful person.
Truthfully, she had built herself the perfect life, and she wasn’t going to let Bradford Breads ruin it. Nor was she going to “team up” with anyone. If she had learned anything from that ugly time in her past, it was that she could only depend on herself. Depending on another person only brought disappointment.
Chapter Eight
Rob Bradford had always known he would return to Lobster Bay. For most of his life, the town had been a bright and happy memory to look back on when the going got tough. And when he needed a fresh start, this was the place that had jumped into his mind.
Finally feeling the tension of the last few years start to drain from his shoulders, the owner of Bradford Breads leaned back in the leather seat of his five-year-old Chevy Tahoe and admired the newest location of his chain store. He had a dozen across New England, but this location was closest to his heart.
Rob had fond childhood memories of Lobster Bay, where he’d spent several idyllic vacations with his parents as a child before his mom got sick with cancer. Once she’d been diagnosed, there were no more vacations. When she’d finally died after a five-year battle, the family had been so exhausted, no one could find joy in vacations anymore.
Of course, that had been thirty years ago. A lot had happened since then, including his own wife’s death five years ago. But Rob didn’t want to dwell on the past. This was a new start for him, a fresh beginning that he was looking forward to after all the sadness in his life.
The town had changed a bit since he was a kid. There were more stores, but it was still a small, quaint town. It still had a gorgeous beach, and the town continued to decorate the streets with boxes and beds of flowers in an inviting, charming way. There was also Lobster Bay itself, with the bobbing lobster traps, and Perkins Cove, with its clusters of fishing boats. It was a place where a guy could start a new life.
Movement across the street caught his eye. The bakery. He didn’t remember it being there when he was a kid. Someone was putting a sign up out front. He narrowed his eyes and craned his neck forward to see it. A cupcake sale—buy one, gettwofree? He squinted a moment before the date of the sale struck him. He jerked his head toward his own sign. It was the same date of his grand opening.
Was the bakery owner worried about the competition? Rob hoped not. He’d run into this sort of thing before. Whenever he opened one of his stores, the other businesses in town felt intimidated. He hoped the bakery owner didn’t feel the same way. He had no intention of putting anyone out of business. In fact, he was very careful about that. With every new location he opened, he made sure not to setup business near another store that sold mainly bread.
Rob loved his bread business. It reminded him of his mom. From the time he could walk, he had grown up watching or helping her knead the dough, peeking under the cloth to check on rising bread, or smelling the fresh scent of it baking. In a way, every time he made bread, he was keeping her memory alive. After he’d graduated from college, he’d stopped buying bread at the store and started the tradition of making it himself. What began as a hobby had grown into a full-time, very lucrative business.
He got out of his SUV, shielding his eyes against the sun to look across the street and through the glass front windows of the bakery. Inside, customers sat at tables. More tables were placed artfully on the brick walkway outside. Planters loaded with flowers and ferns added color and vibrancy to the spot. It looked nice. Cozy. A place he would want to stay and linger. Should he consider something like this for his store? He’d never thought much about the ambiance, but the bakery looked so welcoming. It made him want to step inside.
He should introduce himself to the owner. The information he’d gathered from a representative before he’d leased his location had spoken of sweet baked goods rather than bread. Cupcakes, cookies, muffins, that sort of thing. Without bread to speak of, they weren’t in direct competition.
He could make friends and show how their businesses could complement each other. He was starting across the street when a woman appeared at the window. Wisps of auburn hair, which had escaped from being pinned back, framed a pretty oval face. It gave her an air of busyness. Coupled with the apron she had tucked lovingly around the curves of her body, she definitely posed an attractive picture. With her air of confidence and the way she was looking things over as if to make sure everything was perfect—much like Rob did for his stores—he figured she must be the owner.
She monitored the arrangement of the sign in front of her shop. Then her gaze drifted to him. Her face turned sour, her eyes shooting daggers across the street.
Rob backed up. That must have been the shop owner, and she did not look in the mood to make friends. Maybe today wasn’t the best day to introduce himself.
Rob retreated to his store. He had a lot to do before the grand opening on Saturday. He always personally outfitted the new locations with the equipment and supplies needed to open. It was an excuse to make sure it was up to his quality standards. Usually he just spent a day or two and handed the store over to a manager to run it day-to-day, but since he was making Lobster Bay his home, he was going to run the new store himself.
Whenever he’d run into resistance before, he’d always managed to win over the other shop owners. Perhaps before he talked to the bakery owner, he should feel out some of the locals to find out the best way to approach her. In fact, maybe he would start with the bed-and-breakfast he remembered as a teenager. Tides, he thought it was called. He had stayed there once with his mom, and a charming elderly couple had run it.
They might be interested in a standing order of homemade bread to serve to their guests. Next, he could speak with the handywoman listed in the local newspaper who he planned to hire to tie up some odds and ends.
The matter settled, Rob got to work with his shop inspection. Better to find out a little bit more about the bakery owner before he got his head handed to him on a platter.
Chapter Nine
Claire glared at the man across the street who was stepping into Bradford Breads. Was that the manager? He was about her age, fit, with shoulders that filled out his polo shirt. She couldn’t see too many details from across the street except that he had a strong jaw and short-cropped dark hair with shades of silver. If he hadn’t been working for the enemy, she might have thought him attractive.Mighthave.
Naturally, he was working for the enemy because he was heading for the bread store, which wasn’t open to customers. Only someone who worked there would be able to get in. She’d never seen him in town before, so he wasn’t local. And the owner of a franchise like Bradford Breads never did the grunt work himself. He sent lackeys. Middle-aged, attractive lackeys with silver at their temples.
“Is that the owner of Bradford Breads?”
Claire jumped at Sally’s voice. “Probably some lackey.”
Sally pressed her lips together as she stared unabashedly at the shop across the street. “Could be. I heard the owner inspects all his stores before they open personally.”
