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“What made you want to become a forensic accountant?”
“As I told you before, I’m a numbers person and have been since I was a child. By the time I was three, I was doing multiplication.”
“Seriously?” My brows furrowed.
“Yeah.”
“What’s 2345x475?” I asked.
“1,113,875,” she said without hesitation.
“Damn. Are you a genius?”
“Only where numbers are concerned.”
“And you have that photographic memory. So, I’d say you are a genius.”
“That’s nice of you to say, but I’m really not.” She sipped her cosmopolitan. “Since I loved numbers, I wanted to work with them, and forensic accounting sounded fun.”
“Fun?” I laughed.
“Well, as fun as it could be.” She smiled.
“So, tell me how a forensic accountant turns into a bakery owner? You went from numbers to sweets.”
“My grandmother was a huge baker. She lived in the kitchen because my grandfather was a huge sweets eater. I remember when I was five years old, I was staying with my grandparents. I told her I wanted donuts and asked if she’d take me to the donut shop. She said that if I wanted donuts, I’d have to make them myself. So, she took me to the kitchen and taught me how to make them. From then on, I stayed with her in the kitchen and helped her. I told her I wanted to open a bakery when I grew up and that she could help me run it. She said the only way that would be possible is if I got a good education, a good job, and saved so I could one day open one.”
“Why didn’t she ever open a bakery?” I asked.
“She and my grandpa never really had much money. He was a factory worker and was laid off for a few years. After he passed away, my grandma started selling baked goods from her house to help pay the bills. Then she developed bad arthritis in her hands and had to stop baking, so I took over and helped when I could. It was easy because I already had the recipes in my head. I used to bake huge batches of different sweets when I was in college, and I’d sell them to the students and faculty. I told my grandma that I would open a bakery one day for us, and she’d help me run it.”
“It sounds like the two of you are really close.”
“We were. She passed away a couple of months ago.”
“I’m really sorry, Zoey.”
“Thanks. That’s why I moved to Los Angeles. I’m opening up a bakery for my grandmother and me.”
“Have you decided what you’re calling your bakery?” I asked.
“Baked With Love.” She smiled. “When I was little, I always asked why her baked goods were so delicious. She’d say, ‘Because they're all baked with love. Without love, they would be just like every other sweet in the world, and that’s what makes them so extraordinary.’”
“I like that.” I grinned. “If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you stay in Sacramento and open a bakery there?”
“It’s complicated. Let’s just say I needed a change of scenery.”
“You haven’t said a word about your parents. Are they still alive?”
“My mother and I have a complicated relationship. My grandparents practically raised me. As for my father, he has some issues, and he pops in and out of my life every so often. The last time I saw him was two years ago.”
“Where is he?”
“That I don’t know. The last time I received his postcard, he was in Florida.”
I looked to my right and saw Grayson, Ava, Gabriel, and Piper heading towards us.
“I didn’t know you were having dinner here tonight,” Grayson said as I stood, and he hugged me.
