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"You know, one of those blogs that's all about how to raise a perfect family and be a better mom and stuff. She gets paid a lot of money by toy and diaper companies to push positive reviews of their products. And, on the other side of that coin, she can post a negative review of a company and get them in big trouble with her following."
My gut sinks. "Did she?"
"Yeah," she sighs. "It went a little viral, actually, it was so scathing. She may not be a good person, but she's apparently a great storyteller. A lot of people want to buy that story. I had people coming into the bakery with their phones out to take videos of me, trying to catch me doing something silly or awful. Taking pictures of the roof, implying that the bakery must not be up to code. Telling lies about how the food is made. I'm not on social media, but Brittany is. She was showing me everything they were saying…."
I feel my fist curl up at my side as anger burns in my gut.
"What's the name of the blog?" I ask before I can stop myself.
She sighs into the phone again, louder this time.
"Brett, no. There's nothing you can do now. Brittany said the best thing to do is nothing. Just wait for it to die down."
"That can't be the only thing we do. I'll tell you what—I have a buddy that works for a PR company. I'll give him your number, and he can find a way to spin this whole thing back around."
"I said no, Brett." Her tone is stern, unwavering. "I don't have the money to pay for a PR person right now—"
"Even with all the extra business from Tinsley's announcement?" I ask, incredulous. I know I've interrupted her, but I'm in problem-solving mode now. And I'm getting a little frustrated with her that she isn't. "I thought business had been booming?"
"Yes, but that money went to… other expenses," Denise insists.
"Then I'll pay for it," I say, digging in my desk drawer for the guy's business card.
"Brett, stop it," she hisses. I pause what I'm doing, and she takes a shaking breath. "Stop, Brett. I don't want Business Brett right now. I want… IneedBoyfriend Brett."
Her breath trembles again, and I realize how close she is to crying.
"Hey," I say gently, pushing my drawer closed again. "Everything's okay. I promise."
"I just wish you were here." Her voice is barely audible.
"I wish I was too."
I take a deep breath of my own, knowing exactly what she's really asking me. She wants me in Barton Beach today. To just zoom down there like I did a month ago to comfort her. But I can't. I've got work. I've got this thing with Tinsley to figure out.
"I'm sorry, Denise," I say. "Time and money aren't endless. I need to stay in Houston until the end of the week. I'll be there Friday night. I promise."
After a moment, she sighs again. "Alright. I guess I can wait until then. Talk to you later, Brett."
"Okay. Talk to you soon, babe."
And with that, she hangs up.
CHAPTER18
Denise
Iput the phone down on the table of pastry boxes and put my face in my hands. My throat burns as tears travel to my eyes, and I struggle to swallow them down.
It's selfish of me, I know. But I want Brett here. When he's around, I feel stronger. He's so worshipful of me, of everything I do.
And right now, I just want someone like that to remind me that I'm good at what I do at the bakery.
I glance again at the pastry boxes, at the logo of the pink woman and her tray of desserts. She smiles up at me, holding all my mother's love for this place and her three of her children.
I decide to call Sheila to help cheer me up.
When I pull up outside her house, Sheila's waiting on her porch for me with a couple of metal thermoses clutched in her arms. Before I can even start to unbuckle myself, she rushes over and bangs on the passenger side window until I unlock the door.
