I don’t want to give anyone a show. I want to compose myself, and I want to get Hal the heck out of here because I’m in no mood to have a debate with him again. Going up against him is draining. It takes all my wits, and right now, I’d rather be using those to make cakes.
“I heard from the ladies that you had a delivery to make. Some cupcakes to Sam’s workplace no less.” Hal’s face transforms from the charming, nice young man act he put on for Sarah and Marla into the I’m actually the devil expression he normally doesn’t even bother to hide. “What a lucky brother he is to have such a thoughtful sister.”
“Oh, yes.” I’m good at faking sweetness this morning. “I wanted to thank him for all the help in saving my bakery.”
“I don’t know why you call it a bakery. You don’t bake anything.”
“We bake cakes. Duh.”
“You don’t even have cookies.”
“No. Because we do cakes.”
“You should call yourself a cakery then, not a bakery. It would make more sense.”
“I think it would, actually,” Sarah whispers to Marla.
“Maybe he has a point,” Marla whispers back.
I can feel the anger making its way up from my toes, slithering up my legs, into my belly, filling up my chest, and attaching itself to my throat. It can’t be swallowed back, so I don’t even bother trying. As long as I can contain it inside, Hal won’t know just how peeved I am. As usual, I think it’s his goal to make me lose my temper.
“I sent you an email this morning, to the bakery’s email address, with an outline of my plans for change.”
“C-change?” I fume. All my sugary sweetness is gone and replaced with straight-up toxic vinegar. “You get no say in that! That’s what we decided last night.”
“No, that’s what you angrily put out there, but that’s not what I agreed to. I have grand plans and the money to make it happen. You could grow this place to four times the size, get a newer building, all new equipment, and carry a wide variety of products so good that they’d put anyone else’s to shame, not just in Bellevue but the whole state of Washington. You could hire more staff and make a real name for yourself.”
I thrust my hands to my hips and stare Hal down with my firmest expression. “I hate how you’re not taking me seriously. Not everyone wants to be a household name. And not everyone wants to be rich.”
Hal laughs at that, basically right in my face. I wish I had a surplus three-tier cake made in the back because I’d bring it out here and thrust it straight into the middle of his far too handsome smirk. Wait, what? Okay, other people find him handsome. Hal is tall, broad, and cut. He’s also muscular and manly, he has a decent face, and he dresses well now that he has money, which I guess is attractive to other people.
A sharp pang rips through my midsection, and I nearly clutch it. My appendix is acting up. That must be it. Although, isn’t the appendix supposed to be more to the right? Dear lord, does a failing appendix also affect the nipples? Maybe that’s a different disease. Nippleatitis? No. No, they are not stiff. That is just…that is just pure and utter nonsense.
“Ladies, did you hear that?” Hal asks the sisters. I turn to them and am more than dismayed to see they both have their hands over their mouths to cover their twin expressions of glee. “Do you want to be a household name?”
“Sure do!” Sarah chimes eagerly.
“Might be a great thing,” Marla agrees.
“Do you want to be rich?”
“Oh, hell yes!” Marla shouts.
“I’d like to own a yacht and a house in the Maldives!” Sarah wistfully tells us.
“There,” Hal says like that settles everything. “At least open the email and take a look. As I said, I have the money to make it happen. If you really don’t want to go there, then we should at least talk about giving this place a facelift and changing the name outside to read “Stella’s Cakery.” Or at least “Stella’s Not Bakery.” Maybe “Stella’s Place That Only Bakes Cakes, Cupcakes, and Cake Related Things?” Just so people know they can’t get chocolate Danishes, rolls, baguettes, bread, bagels, strudels, turnovers, pies, buns, biscuits, or anything else associated with what a regular bakery might carry.”
“Are you single?” Marla croons. “Because if you’re looking for an old biddy to take as a wife and spoil ridiculously well while she still has some life in her old bones…”
“Hmm.” Hal pretends to consider it, and a burst of laughter comes from the sisters. “I do need an adopted grandma, now that I think about it. I’ll bring the paperwork over tomorrow morning.”