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"Did Maria tell you to follow me here? To keep an eye on me or something?" Tinsley looks at me, her eyes electrified with new curiosity. "Make sure I'm not spending too much?"
"No, Tinsley. Your agent didn't send me after you. I'm here on… other business."
I catch Denise’s eye again to find that she’s staring at me too. But thankfully, she just looks to be sharing the same innocent curiosity as Tinsley Simon.
I don't think either of them has figured out why I'm really here and I cringe at myself internally.
And at the deepest core of it, I feel a hard pinch of shame.
In all the two and a half decades I've been in this line of work, I have rarely felt this bad for doing what I do. Yes, I can get uncomfortable. Yes, I can pity those caught in-between. But in the world of business, it's dog-eat-dog. You'll get eaten if you're not ferocious and insistent enough.
Consumption is the name of the game, and I have strived to climb to the very top of that food pyramid.
As I have reminded myself time and time again, sometimes buying a business off of someone can be a kindness. A lump sum is far less stressful than a rickety old building and a handful of ungrateful employees. At WestRock, we take a business, clean it up a bit, and then put it into surer hands. It's good. It's fine.
It's all fine.
But now, looking into Denise's eyes, I have never felt more ashamed of what I do.
I remember my conversation with my brother in his office yesterday, the look on his face when I said I was going after Sugar Breeze. His description of the stressful owner, who seemed in way over her head but was still trying her best.
And that is exactly the woman I see here before me now. A woman buried beneath more stress and disaster than she could ever deserve. I feel my resolve falling to pieces for the first time in years.
They don't know why I'm really here.
And for now, I want to keep it that way, at least until I can figure out a better way to approach this.
A way that won't get Denise hurt.
"Well," Tinsley continues, re-centering me in the present, "I promise I'm being very responsible with my money, Brett. I will try Denise's cakes before I put down the deposit."
"Sounds good," I say. "You're picking up everything I taught you."
"How's Tuesday for you?" Tinsley beams down at Denise again, holding her at arm's length like an adoring aunt admiring her baby niece. "For the cake tasting? Two days is enough time to get everything prepared, right?"
"T-Tuesday?" Denise stutters.
"I know, I know. The wedding is still three months away, so why am I getting everything set up now?" Tinsley suddenly shoots me a wink. “December eighth, by the way—I'll send you an invitation, and you better be there, Brett!"
I do my best to hold back a grimace. "I'll, uh, do my best."
Fortunately, Tinsley doesn't notice my tone. "But Ford—you know, Ford Augustine, my fiancé—will be on tour right before the wedding. And even once he gets back, there will be meetings with the press, fittings, getting the venue ready—there won't be any time for it then! I know it's a bit of a rush, but I hope you can understand." She bats her long eyelashes at Denise, emphasizing her big, puppy dog eyes. "I don't want him to miss out. That's why I was so happy I could arrive here early."
"Of course. I understand," Denise says, clearing her throat once more. Finally, she appears to be centering herself again, too. "I can do that for you, Ms. Simon—I mean Tinsley."
Tinsley squeals again. "Yay! Thank you so much!"
"Are there any flavors you would prefer to have? And any food allergies I should know about?"
"I'll have my agent message you all the nitty-gritty details," Tinsley responds. "We're going to have alotof guests, and things like food allergies are just way too much for me to keep track of!" She laughs her tinkling laugh again. "And there's no way I could choose just one flavor! But just so you know, the theme of the wedding is the sunset. If that helps inspire you."
I snort, and Tinsley wrinkles her perky little nose at me.
"Don't laugh at me, Brett Cooper," she snaps teasingly. "The sunset isbeautiful! And there's no better place to celebrate it than out here on the Texas beaches. Can't you just picture it? The ocean behind us and the sun as orange as a… well, an orange! And me on the beach in my beautiful white dress with shells all pinned up in my hair? Oh! It'll be gorgeous!"
Grasping Denise's hand one last time, she says, "I'll see you on Tuesday, Denise. I have to get going, or I'll be late for an interview with… what's your local newspaper's name again? Oh, it doesn't matter. See you soon!"
And, blowing Denise and I each a kiss, Tinsley swishes her way out the front door of the Sugar Breeze Bakery and back to her limo outside.
