Page 60 of The Sugar and Spice Bookshop Bakery

‘I like you, Luisa. But I’m not going to kiss you when you’re upset. That would be taking advantage. That’s not who I am.’

Oh. So what he’s saying is… if she weren’t upset…

‘What you need now is comfort, not kissing,’ he says.

Yeah, well, kissing can be kind of comforting. But the fact he isn’t going to snog her face off right now, the fact he’s so respectful, so insistent that kissing a woman when she’s upset isn’t his style – that makes her want him all the more.

Silence.

Awkward silence. The kind that makes Louise feel compelled to say something.

‘It’s kind of an occupational hazard,’ she says. ‘Thinking, “If this was a romance, this would happen now.” And, of course, I worked on crime novels too. So whenever Miss Anderson walks in the bakery, I think, “If this was a novel, I’d pick up that huge kitchen knife and…” Just joking. Though she is awful. She was a terrible teacher. So nasty.’

She’s rambling now. She needs to shut up. And then her phone buzzes loudly in her pocket. Perfect timing. She pulls it out, glances at the screen.

‘A text from Maddie,’ she tells him. ‘She didn’t get the job.’

Twenty

As Louise makes coffee the following morning, she replays the whole scene again in her mind. She’d edit out her snotty nose and the paint-splattered tissue, but she’d keep the awkwardness, the delicious awkwardness, and the knowledge that Jack wants to kiss her – he’d implied that, hadn’t he? He just doesn’t want to kiss her when she’s upset.

There’s a knock on the door.

She looks up, hoping it’s him, but she can see through the glass pane in the door that it’s a woman. She glances at her watch. It’s twenty past eight. Someone can’t be expecting her to serve them coffee this early. Can they?

‘We open at nine,’ she calls, hoping the woman can hear her through the door. She wants to be alone for a few minutes longer, to replay the Jack scene once again.

‘Can I talk to you?’ the woman calls back.

Reluctantly, Louise goes over to the door and opens it. The woman is late twenties – or perhaps early thirties – and casually dressed in leggings, ballet pumps and a blue tunic top. Her mousy brown hair is cut in a short bob, tucked behind her ears.

She looks flustered. Harassed even. ‘I’m so, so sorry. The car broke down.’

‘And you need to use a phone? Or you want water for the radiator? Or just somewhere to wait for the breakdown truck, out of the cold?’

‘No, none of those. It’s fixed again now.’ The woman looks confused. ‘I just wondered if I was too late?’

‘Too late for…?’ Louise is confused too now.

‘For the job. Did you already appoint someone?’

The penny drops. ‘Oh, you must be…’ Louise racks her brains, trying to remember the final name on yesterday’s list of candidates. This must be the person who didn’t show.

‘I’m Anna. The car broke down in an area with no mobile signal. Luckily a passing tractor gave me a tow and I managed to get it fixed. But then I had to pick my daughter up and I forgot to ring you. I’m normally reliable. Honestly. One hundred per cent reliable.’ She pauses for a moment. ‘Well, okay. Ninety-nine per cent, but everyone breaks down sometimes, don’t they?’

Louise laughs. ‘Can you bake?’

Anna looks puzzled. ‘It’d be a bit odd applying for a job in a bakery if I couldn’t, wouldn’t it?’

‘Oh, you’d be surprised,’ Louise says, thinking of the Bake Off fan and Railway Andy’s friend.

‘I can bake. I used to run my own catering business and I love making cakes, biscuits, pastries…’

‘And you’re not vegan? Or rather, if you are vegan, do you mind baking with butter?’

‘I’m not vegan.’

‘Or averse to using sugar? Most of the residents of Applethwaite seem to have a sweet tooth.’