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I shake the bad feelings off as I push open the door to Baked Inn Love, the bakery run by my friend Allie. As I enter, I’m greeted by the sweet smell of baked goods and espresso. I close my eyes and breathe. Just stepping in here gives me a serotonin boost.
“Hey, Preston. I’ll be with you in just a sec.” Allie smiles and hands coffees to customers waiting for their orders.
Hands in my pockets, I scan the case and choose a blueberry scone.
“Your usual blueberry scone?” she asks, then pops a lid onto the coffee she’s already prepared for me. “How’s your day going?”
“Yes, please. Good.” My shoulders droop, and I let out a sigh.
“You sure?” she asks, sizing me up as she punches in my order.
“Yeah, just busy.”
“Still no office manager?” She looks concerned.
“No. My only applicant was a woman in her late seventies who didn’t know what Microsoft Word was. I need someone who can at least operate a computer,” I say wistfully.
“I’ll keep an eye out.”
“I appreciate it.” I take my coffee and scone. On my way out, I notice some other friends sitting by the window. Beth and Mellie. I give them a quick wave.
As I cross the street, my mind is still on the woman who called, and I wonder what she’s going to do. But just as I step onto the sidewalk in front of my building, an older-model Volkswagen van with music playing loudly pulls up. I’m not sure who I expected to exit the vehicle, but when an angry-looking woman with long, curly, wild red hair pops out, I pause.
Without seeing me, she heads to the front and presses her face to the glass, cupping her hands round her eyes so she can see better. She tries the handle and finds it locked.
“Can I help you?” I offer. I’m not sure I can deal with another angry woman today. I’ve hit my limit.
She whirls around as if she recognizes the sound of my voice. “Are you the attorney I talked to on the phone?” she asks, her green eyes fiery and sharp.
My breath hitches. She’s so stunningly beautiful and so, so angry. I don’t even know what to say, so I nod. That’s it. That’s literally all I’ve got. This woman has rendered me speechless.
Seconds probably pass by, but it feels like minutes.
“What?” she asks, her hands on her hips. “Why aren’t you talking?”
I frown, wondering why she’s here. But I’m curious, so I lean against the door to my office and shrug. “What would you like for me to say?”
“Well, you can start by explaining how you’re in the building that I rented formybookstore. I see you still have boxes everywhere. How do I know you really own the building and aren’t just a squatter?”
I resist rolling my eyes because I know it will likely fire her up even more, but then I think that might be even more entertaining, so I continue. “Because I have the keys.” I shrug as I slide one into the lock and open the door. Then I call over my shoulder, “Doyouhave the keys?”
She sighs. “The keys I have don’t work.”
“Hmm, imagine that.” I sip my coffee.
She grinds her teeth and flips her wild hair behind her. “What’s your name?”
I smile at her; I can’t even help it. She’s getting cuter the angrier she gets. “Preston Steele.”
“Can you prove this is your building, Preston Steele?”
“I have the title, deed, and the keys. What do you have?” I counter.
Her eyes narrow. “I have a lease that says I rent this building. I gave all my money...” She pauses. I can tell she’s trying not to cry now, and I soften.
“You know what? Never mind. You’re supposed to help people. You’re an attorney. Except youdon’thelp people. So just forget it,Preston Steele.” Her voice wavers as she turns and stomps in the direction of the bakery. I watch as she goes, unsure of what to say. I don’t know what to do to help her out here, but now I’m invested.
I know that her problem is likely to become my problem as I watch her head directly to the table where Mellie and Beth are sitting, and Allie quickly joins them.
