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“Yeah.” I snorted. “Okay.”
“It’s why we get along so well.” Imogene winked. “Okay, okay. Now that that’s all sorted, I want to hear about you.”
“Me?” I asked. “What about me?”
“You’re pregnant.”
“I am,” I said with a grin.
“Well, what’s the nursery look like? Are you going to find out the sex? Are you—”
“Okay, slow your roll.” I laughed.
“Her life is kinda nuts,” Jazz said.
Imogene poured herself another mimosa. “Okay, now you have to spill the beans. On everything!”
* * *
“Well, I don’t know how she did it, but that woman now knows everything about me,” I said to Jazz when we finally climbed into my car.
“She’s like a psychologist combined with a hair stylist. She has a way of making you talk,” Jazz said.
“Do you think it was a bad idea getting that personal? She’s a client, after all.” I started the car and then drove down the driveway, away from the house.
“Nah, she’s good people.” Jazz settled back in her seat for the forty-five-minute drive back to Waco. “Okay, now that we’re alone, I feel like it’s only safe to tell you that I’m panicking a little at the scale of this thing.”
“I’ve got it,” I assured her. “I worked for a large, opulent hotel. Remember? All we need is a little help, which we’re going to hire out.”
“But our kitchen—”
“Is big enough to bake in stages,” I said.
“Five. Hundred. Guests.”
“No big deal. And remember, our storefront is closed, so we have the space for racks. We can stage everything we cook in the front of the bakery and transport everything using the van and our cars.”
“Three weeks. The timing has to be perfect. Everything has to stay fresh and—”
“Jazz, we’ve already planned the menu. She’s not a bridezilla. We’ve got this.”
“You’re so calm, I don’t even—you’re right. We’ve got this.”
“Once more, with feeling,” I said with a huge grin. “Imogene’s wedding is going to solve all of our problems. It will get our name out there. It will give us enough money to breathe.”
And hopefully keep Kurt Antol at bay. He wouldn’t be able to manipulate me into selling the building if I had enough money to pay off the loan against it.
Jazz pulled out her phone. “Well, it has begun, my friend. It has begun.”
“What has?”
“Imogene tagged the bakery on Instagram. Prepare for success, Brooklyn.”
A sigh of relief escaped me. “I can’t wait.”
* * *
After dropping Jazz off, I drove home. Slash’s bike wasn’t out front, so I knew he was out and about. I texted him to let him know I was back.
