by Terra Little
Dear Reader,
Thank you for purchasing The Sweetest Affair, the fourth book in the Coleman House series. I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. This is the last book in the series, and I’m sad to see it end. I hope you’ll also read the first three books in the series: When I Fall in Love, The Only One for Me and Something About You. I’m considering a spin-off series, so if you’d like to see that happen, drop me a note and let me know.
To learn more about past and future releases, sign up for my newsletter on my website at www.bridgetanderson.net. I love and appreciate reviews, so please take the time to leave one. You can find me on social media at Twitter: @Banders319; Facebook: Banders319; Instagram: bandersonbooks.
Thank you,
Bridget Anderson
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Tracee Coleman closed the barn door to the Coleman House’s U-pick store. The Coleman House estate was part bed-and-breakfast and part organic farm. Tracee worked part-time in the kitchen with her aunt Rita, cooking breakfast and pastries for the guests and family members who worked there.
“Well, that’s it. Another successful season comes to a close. And not one cookie or pastry left.” Tracee walked over to the empty bin that had earlier held bags of pastries. Her heart swelled with pride thinking about how well her sweets had been received at the bed-and-breakfast over the years. She hoped that same success would follow her into her own shop.
Tracee’s best friend and soon-to-be business partner, Mae Watts, helped her gather empty bins and stack them up against the wall. “Girl, this is just the beginning of great things to come. When are you going to tell Rollin you’re leaving?” Mae asked.
Tracee shrugged. “I’ve been juggling both jobs pretty well so far. Besides, they know I’m trying to open my own store. That’s not something I can keep from my family.”
“Yeah, I guess not. Why would you even want to? If it wasn’t for Rollin, you probably wouldn’t be where you are. Girl, you’ve got the best family.”
Tracee finished stacking all the bins on their shelf against the wall, thinking about how she’d gone from baking cakes and pies for the bed-and-breakfast to taking orders from customers all over town. If Rollin hadn’t let her use the bed-and-breakfast kitchen on numerous occasions, Tracee’s Cake World would still be a pipe dream.
“Ladies, thank you for everything.”
Tracee turned around as her cousin Rollin and his wife, Tayler, walked into the barn. They were the cutest and most generous couple she’d ever met. When they hired her and her sister, Kyla, two years ago, she’d had no idea the experience would be such a rewarding one. At the time, she was only looking for a part-time job. Instead, she found her future.
“No need to thank us,” Tracee said as she came around to meet them at the front of the store by the registers. “We’re just tidying up so we can get out of here. My shift is up.”
“He means thank you for hanging around while we helped settle up the church folk. They cleaned us out today. We don’t have a lot of produce left to donate to the shelter this evening.”
Mae walked over to join them. “Yeah, those ladies purchased everything that wasn’t nailed down. You have such a supportive church community.”
Mae lived over in Garrard County and attended a Presbyterian church in her neighborhood. However, she’d attended Shiloh Baptist with Tracee on enough occasions to know half the congregation. And it was those networking skills that Tracee counted on to help them in the future.
“Oh, Tracee, I almost forgot.” Tayler pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Tracee. “Mrs. Bond gave this to me for Kyla. She heard about the money Kyla’s collecting to help with her African project. She doesn’t get online, so she wrote a check made out to the nonprofit. Can you pass this on to Kyla?”
Tracee took the check and read the amount—twenty-five dollars. “That is so sweet of her. Didn’t they just have some major work done on their house?”
Tayler nodded. “They did, but everyone’s so proud of the work Kyla’s doing they want to be a part of it.” Tayler reached out and fluffed her hands through Tracee’s hair. “Look at you, looking all like Tracee Ellis Ross on television with this big hair today.”
Tracee shook her head, happy that her curls were popping today. “I know, huh.” She folded the check and put it in her pocket. She was proud of her little sister, too. Kyla was a PhD candidate who’d started a small, local nonprofit program teaching people where their food came from. Now, with the help of her fiancé, she was expanding to several small communities in Africa, which was where she’d been for the last few weeks.
Mae cleared her throat. “You ready to go?”
Tracee shook the thoughts from her head. “Sure, let me run up to the house and get my purse. I’ll meet you in the car.”
“What are you guys up to tonight?” Tayler asked.
“First I’m taking Tracee to pick her car up from the shop, then we’re going to stop and get Gavin and Donna a baby shower gift. What is this, Tracee? Baby number three?” Mae asked.
Tracee stopped at the door and turned around. “Oh, I almost forgot about that. That’s right, I need a gift before Saturday.”
“That little family of Gavin’s is growing,” Tayler stated.
“It sure is. I’ll be right back.” Tracee opened the door and hurried toward the house. Mae wasn’t aware of what she’d just done, but by bringing up Gavin’s coming baby, she’d only added to the feeling of failure that Tracee was battling. She wanted a family of her own one day.
She walked through the back door of the bed-and-breakfast so as not to disturb the guests enjoying the front porch. On this last day of September, they were at capacity. Once in the back office, she pulled her purse from a drawer before going to find her aunt Rita and cousin Corra in the kitchen discussing the evening’s dinner preparations.
“You gone, baby?” her aunt Rita asked.
“Yes, ma’am. Mae’s taking me to pick up my car.”
Tracee’s cell phone rang, and she excused herself and stepped away.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Tracee, this is Melanie—we spoke a few weeks ago regarding cakes for my upcoming wedding.”
Tracee almost dropped the phone. Of course she remembered Melanie Jefferson. Her family owned the largest winery in the area, and she’d snagged herself one of the richest guys in the state. “Hi, Melanie. Yes, I remember our conversation. I baked a cake for your social club, I believe?” Tracee knew that was right, but she didn’t want Melanie to know how excited she was to get this call.
“That’s correct. Well, I’ve narrowed my search, and if you can fit us into your schedule, we’d love to sample your cakes.”
Tracee thrust her fist into the air and waved it around. It took everything in her not to jump around and scream at the top of her lungs. “Of course I have room in my schedule for you and your fiancé, Melanie. How soon are we talking?”
“I was thinking about a week from now. My fiancé, Harry, is in France right now, but he’ll be back on Sunday. How about Tuesday afternoon?”
“Sure, one moment, let me check my calendar.” Tracee put her cell phone on mute and ran her hand through her hair, pulling it back as she caught her breath. Her excited fidgeting captured the attention of Corra and he
r aunt, who stared at her with raised brows. All she could do was smile as she checked a nonexistent calendar.
“Melanie, Tuesday at noon is perfect. I usually meet clients at the Rival Hotel, if that works for you guys?”
“That’s perfect—they’re in the middle of town.”
“Great, now let’s talk a little about what you have in mind.” Tracee hurried around the kitchen looking for a piece of paper. As if she knew just what her cousin was doing, Corra opened a drawer and produced a notepad and a pen. Tracee took it, mouthed thank you and eased into a kitchen chair. While Melanie described what type of cake she had in mind, Tracee scribbled everything down. They spent the next few minutes discussing Tracee’s specialties before she gave Melanie her Pinterest URL, where she could see more samples of her designs.
The ladies in the kitchen continued going over dinner plans until Tracee hung up. The minute she did, they stopped everything.
“Was that really Melanie Jefferson?” Corra asked.
Tracee smiled and set her phone down. “It most certainly was.”
“I heard she was getting married. Did she ask you to do the cake?” Aunt Rita asked.
“She wants to have an official tasting—can you believe it? She might hire me to do her wedding cake.”
“Tracee, that’s wonderful!” Aunt Rita added. “You know that is going to be a huge wedding. And a huge opportunity for you.”
Tracee stood up. “I know. I have to make sure we get this wedding. I did a cake for her aunt’s social club a few months back, and everybody practically drooled over the cake.”
“That’s because your cakes are to die for. You see how fast they leave our shelves. I have all the faith in the world you’ll get this order,” Corra said.
Tracee sighed. “I know Melanie likes my cakes. We’ll just have to hope her fiancé does, too. I’ve scheduled the cake tasting for Tuesday.”
“Do you want to have it here?” Corra asked, excitement dancing in her eyes.
“No, I can’t. I’ve infringed on you guys too much with my side business. I’m going to use the Rival Hotel. They have several small meeting rooms that I’ve used when I didn’t want to meet clients at my apartment. I don’t think I want to invite Melanie and her fiancé to my apartment—he’ll wonder what type of ghetto cake lady she hired.”
Corra walked over and opened the pantry. “Girl, there’s nothing ghetto about you or your business. You and Mae are so professional in your approach. Why do you think so many people want to patronize you? And your Pinterest page, oh my God! That page makes my mouth water every time I check it out.”
Tracee took the sheet of paper from the notepad and put it in her purse before returning the pad and pen to the drawer. “That’s Mae’s excellent photography skills. She’s working on a website now.”
“You guys are going to be such a huge success. Just wait until Melanie’s wedding details hit the papers and the internet. Your phone is going to start blowing up. I hope you’re ready for what’s about to happen to you.”
Tracee thought about all the success happening around her—she was beyond ready. “I’ve been waiting for a break like this ever since I moved to Danville. I didn’t know the idea of opening my own place was even remotely possible, but with a little help, I may be able to pull it off. And Ms. Melanie offers the type of visibility I need.”
“Go get what’s yours, girl. We’re going to have to start purchasing our treats from you from now on.”
Tracee laughed. “Don’t worry, you’re not losing me just yet. I’m not going anywhere until we’re able to open the doors on our own place.”
Aunt Rita crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, I’ve been around you Colemans long enough to know that when you go after something you want, you get it. Melanie won’t be able to say no.”
Tracee hugged her aunt and cousin before running out to the car to share the news with Mae.
* * *
Laurent Martin pulled his Mercedes up to the valet station at Brandywine in Woodland Hills, California, got out and then tossed his keys to the young man with the restaurant’s logo embossed on his black shirt. He was having lunch with his father, and Thomas Martin didn’t like to be kept waiting. Time Is Money and Money Is Time was his father’s motto. If something is taking up too much of your time, it’s eating into your bottom line. Get rid of it. That was another of Thomas’s sayings.
Inside the restaurant, Laurent spotted his father right away. Standing at six feet five inches, an inch taller than Laurent, his father had a way of commanding the room, even if he was sitting down. Thomas Martin had taught his boys to work hard for everything they had. Just because the family owned a chain of luxury hotels didn’t mean they were guaranteed a piece of the business unless they earned it. And all three Martin boys worked their tails off.
Laurent briefly stopped at the hostess station, where he was pointed in his father’s direction. He glanced down at his new Tom Ford suit, hoping it would meet his father’s approval. Appearance was everything in the world of luxury, according to his father.
“Laurent, you’re right on time.” Thomas Martin looked up as Laurent reached the table.
Laurent glanced as his watch before pulling out the seat across from his father. Fifteen minutes early was on time, on time was late. He’d arrived fifteen minutes early.
Thomas smiled as Laurent took a seat. “So, how has your day been?”
A waiter hurried over to take Laurent’s drink order. He thanked him. “So far so good. No fires to put out—yet anyway.”
“That’s good.” Thomas took a sip of red wine, his preferred drink at lunch, then he set his glass down. “Well, now that the summer’s over, it’s time to prepare for the upcoming holiday season. Do you have any new developments you want to run by me?”
Laurent gave his father a questioning gaze. This wasn’t the kind of conversation they usually had in public. The waiter came by, and Laurent glanced at the menu before ordering his favorite onion soup and petite filet mignon. “No new developments. Why? Are Marquis or Aubrey working on something new?” His oldest brother, Marquis, always had something in play, but Aubrey spent most of his time maintaining what they had.
“As a matter of fact, yes. Marquis is working on a renovation project for the Grand Cayman location. I initially thought he was only trying to get a vacation out of the deal, but if he can make some improvements at the same time, I’m not going to sweat him over it.”
“That sounds like a sweet plan,” Laurent added.
“If he finishes before the holiday rush, it will be. If not, and he causes us any cancellations, I might have to move him back to cover the US locations. You know how he can talk his way into just about anything.”
Laurent laughed at the reference to Marquis. His father was correct—Marquis could talk his way into a royal wedding if he had to. In fact, he was so good he’d talked their father into letting him run all the Caribbean hotels by himself. Aubrey was just as persuasive and had talked himself into the European market. Trips to France and Italy were on his calendar frequently.
While his father continued to discuss a little family business, Laurent sat wondering what they were really here to discuss. Thomas Martin wasn’t in the habit of calling a lunch meeting just to catch up. His father wanted something from him.
After their meal was served, and his father went through another drink, he finally got around to the reason for the lunch.
“I don’t think I ever told you how impressed I was with the way you handled that harassment situation at Abelle Toronto last month.”
Laurent nodded. “Thank you.”
“You’re living up to your title as family troubleshooter. Whatever the situation, turn it over to Laurent—he can handle anything. I appreciate you, son. I can’t be everywhere.”
“It’s not a problem. It’s what I do best,” Laurent said.
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br /> “Which brings me to another challenge for you.”
Here it comes. Laurent lowered his fork and took a drink of water to clear his palate. He sat back and waited for his father to dump some project on him that neither of his brothers wanted.
“You’re also an excellent negotiator. I’ve watched you over the years. And you’re who I need to help close the deal on a small-town hotel chain I’ve been trying to purchase.”
Laurent was surprised. Thomas Martin was a master negotiator. All of their hotels were in prime locations due to his father’s stellar skills. Why would he need him to step in? “I don’t understand. This is something you’ve been working on?”
Thomas nodded. “I have. From a distance, with very little luck.”
Laurent squinted as he tried to read the truth from his father’s eyes. “What’s the real story?” he asked.
His father shrugged. “No story. Just a stubborn old man who can’t see a good deal when it looks him right in the face. I need you to help him see the benefits of selling to us. Tonight I’ll email you all the details. You should be able to wrap things within the next week or two.”
Laurent shook his head. “I’m leaving for the Caribbean tomorrow for the next two weeks. I take vacations, too, you know.”
“Laurent, this deal can’t wait for you to come back from vacation. This is a simple acquisition that we should have closed already. Your gift of persuasion is required on this one. I need you to leave by this weekend at the latest.”
Oh, no, you don’t! “You want to hijack my vacation and send me off to some godforsaken place to negotiate a deal you couldn’t get yourself? Why does that not sound so appealing to me?”
“Because that’s not the situation. You’re merely postponing your vacation for a couple of weeks to handle something for the family that, frankly, only you can do. Come on, you know your brothers. They’re like bulls in a china shop. This deal is going to take a little more finesse. A more subtle approach, if you will.”
Laurent was being fed a bowl of crap, but he nodded anyway. “And that’s where I come in,” he said, pointing to himself. “You know, something about this stinks. Where is this hotel?”