She rings up my order and passes it to me. I sit down at a table so I’m not holding up the line and sip my peppermint mocha. It’s perfectly hot, which is what I like.
I look out the window and see a woman across the street with a little girl, both carrying bags from the local clothing store.
There’s an ease to life here that I’ve never seen in New York. I’m not sure New Yorkers even know how to slow down. Here, everyone seems to know everyone, and this is where Connor grew up. The town he left because he couldn’t stay here and be one of them.
“Excuse me?” I look up at a man about my age standing in front of me. He’s wearing an apron over his jeans and t-shirt, his hair disheveled. “You said you had a wedding cake you’re picking up next week?”
“Yes! For the Monroe/Carter wedding on December 23,” I say.
“Let me check,” he says.
He walks behind the counter and types something on the cashier’s screen. Whatever he sees makes him frown. He converses with the cashier, and she shrugs before walking into the kitchen. When she comes out, she whispers something to him, and he sighs before walking back over to me.
I don’t have a good feeling about any of this, but I give him the benefit of doubt until he opens his mouth and speaks. “We don’t have a booking for Monroe/Carter for December 23.”
I blink at him. “Then I guess the booking confirmation I received must have been from another Butter & Bloom bakery in Silverpine. If you tell me where it is, I’ll promptly make my way over there.”
He shifts on his feet, his cheeks brightening with color. “There isn’t another Butter & Bloom in Silverpine.”
“Yeah, I figured as much,” I say, with as much sarcasm as I can manage. “Then there must be a reservation in your system because there’s definitely a deposit in your system and I’m not in the habit of spending money without getting some kind of proof. So, either give me back my deposit or bake the cake I hired you to bake.”
He looks over his shoulder and I follow his gaze to a woman standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She gives me a hard look before disappearing inside.
“Who is that?” I ask.
“That’s the owner.”
“Can I talk to her about this missing reservation?” I ask.
I’m very proud of myself for not exploding right now. Because the anger I’m feeling is simmering at the edge and I’m one push away from toppling over and spewing it at this innocent man.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says.
“What’s your name?”
He blinks at me owlishly. We have to be the same age, yet I can’t help thinking he’s afraid of me. Good. He should be very afraid because if something goes wrong with my sister’s wedding then this whole town is going to remember my name, and not for good reasons.
“Shane.”
“Shane, you seem reasonable enough, so let me explain to you clearly. My sister is getting married, which means we need a cake. The cake I ordered six months ago and for which I provided a deposit and for which I received a confirmation. If the cake is not going to be ready for us on December 23, exactly as I ordered it, then I’m going to become your worst nightmare.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Are we on the same page?”
“Uh, I just work here,” he says.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. I can’t tell Sienna that she’s not going to have a cake for her wedding. I’m the maid of honor, it’s my responsibility to fix this mess for her. If I have to become an expert baker myself, then I’ll do it.
“You’ve been no help at all, Shane.”
I grab my drink and throw it in the trash on my way out the door.
Okay, don’t panic. You’ve got this.
I take a few bracing breaths of the cold air which smells like sugar cookies and I’m no closer to calming down.
“Fuck!”
“Oh, dear.”
