My second date with Noahgoes much like the first. As does the third, and the fourth. And whilepretending the two of us have fallen into madly blissful love would be a huge and total lie, I can at least admit he’s growing on me. At least on the “pleasure” side of things.
When it comes to our business, I can’t help but hate the man. Not because of anything he’s done—beyond the obvious—but because I can’t seem to find a way to beat him. And nothing is more infuriating than losing. I refuse to lose.
And yet, it’s been three weeks since Emma first received that threatening letter and I’m no closer to finding her a solution.
While I’m not willing to admit total defeat just yet, the legal front is not looking promising in our quest to save the bakery. Which means it might be time to take things in a different direction. “What if we planned a big fundraiser?” I finally throw the suggestion out a week after it first popped into my head.
Emma frowns, kneading the bread dough in front of her a little kneadier. “I don’t want to take people’s money, Cam. I don’t want to be some charity case.”
Having expected this exact response, I have my rebuttal ready. “It’s not charity, Em. The people of Heart Springs love you and they love this bakery. They don’t want to see some corporate monstrosity move in to this space. Where is everyone going to get their muffins and birthday cakes and holiday cookies? Trust me, the people have very selfish reasons for wanting to save the bakery, it hardly has anything to do with you personally.” Lie, but I do know how upset everyone would be were they to lose Emma’s baked goods from their daily lives.
“I don’t know. That seems like a lot of work, and it probably wouldn’t even raise enough money anyway.”
It’s not a flat-out no, so I keep pushing. “You won’t have to do any of the work, I will handle everything.”
She raises one eyebrow and the disbelieving look she gives me is only mildly insulting. “You are going to plan a huge fundraiser all by yourself? This coming from the woman who has barely managed a few hours of community service?”
“Wow, Emma, don’t hold back, I’m only offering to save your life’s work here.” I pull myself up to my full height. “I’ll have you know I planned the firm’s annual holiday gala for the past five years and have helped raise millions of dollars for charity.” Anything for a tax write-off, am I right?
Emma’s eyes widen. “Millions of dollars?”
“Yup.” I rush to temper her beliefs. “We can’t really expect that from this one, obviously. Our firm’s clients are some of the wealthiest people in Manhattan. No one in Heart Springs can come close to their giving power.”
Her newly found optimism is crushed. “Then what’s the point?”
“We don’t need millions of dollars. I’m confident we can earn enough for a down payment on the building, at the very least.”
She eyes me skeptically. “And you’ll do all the work? And keep up with your bakery shifts?”
My smile falters. “I was hoping that I could use some of my bakery hours to work on the fundraiser.”
She opens her mouth, but I don’t let her get a word in.
“But if that’s what it takes to get you to agree, then sure, I’ll plan the fundraiser in my off hours.”
Good lord, what am I getting myself into?
It will be worth it, though, when we sign the contracts and shove our victory right in Noah’s face.
“All right. If you think it can work, then I’m in.”
I clap my hands together, sending a pouf of flour up in the air.
We both dissolve into a pile of laughter and something warm bursts in my chest. For a second, I think I might be having a heart attack or something, unsure what this foreign experience could be.
But then I realize it’s just happiness. The realization sends another burst through my chest, and when Emma grabs me in a hug, jumping around in a happy and hopeful circle, I join in without a second’shesitation.
17
It doesn’t take long for the happiness bubble to totally burst. In fact, it only takes as long as it does for me to compile a to-do list for the Save the Bakery fundraiser (snappier name to come). Because the list is long, and without Grandmother’s black AmEx at hand, I don’t know how I’m actually going to pull this off.
But Emma has looked so much happier in the few days since agreeing to give the fundraiser a shot that I force myself to keep going.
And I force myself to take a painful and probably ill-advised walk next door. Either I’ve been avoiding Ben or he’s been avoiding me, but I haven’t seen him since he came into the bakery.
Unfortunately, that hasn’t kept him out of my head. I was sort of hoping for that whole out of sight, out of mind deal, but so far, the opposite has proven true. Now that I let myself somewhat sort of acknowledge a tinge of sparkly feelings, I can’t seem to erase him from my brain.
So I continually remind myself that even if these feelingswere real (which they’re not), it wouldn’t matter because Ben is not one of my suitors and therefore, according to Mimi’s decree, I can’t end up with him. And even if I could end up with him (which I definitely can’t), who’s to say he would reciprocate said feelings. And even if he did reciprocate said feelings (which I know he doesn’t), it wouldn’t put me any closer to finding my way home. Mimi doesn’t stand firm on much, but her rules are definitely at the top of the list.
