by Kathy Ivan
“Bakery.” Ms. Patti’s stare bored into her, hitting straight at her dream, as if she knew exactly where Jill’s heart’s desire hid. Her fantasy of owning her own business, being answerable to nobody for the day-to-day decisions, seemed like nirvana. Working in a never-gonna-get-anywhere nine-to-five job stole a little piece of her soul every day, and she couldn’t see a way out. Not when Dante kept toppling her dreams like falling dominos.
“Sure, it’s a great spot for a bakery. Great for foot traffic, and there’s decent street parking. I didn’t check behind the building, but usually you’ll find a few parking spaces.”
“There are,” Ms. Patti answered. “So, you think you’d make a profit with the right management and people and equipment?”
Why does she keep saying you, like she’s talking about me running the business? Ain’t gonna happen. Not now, maybe not ever.
Jill laid her fork gently on the table. “Ms. Patti, what’s going on? I assume you didn’t call me out of the blue to ask me about space for a bakery.”
“Jill, I rarely do anything without thought and planning. I think the last time I did anything spontaneous, I eloped with Douglas.”
“Really? I’d call that spontaneous.”
Ms. Patti’s grin said it all. “Best thing I ever did. Not a single regret.”
“That’s awesome. But, again, why’d you want me to look at the property? I can’t afford anything like it, at least not now.”
“But I can.” Picking up her glass, Ms. Patti sipped her tea, while Jill sat stunned.
What in the world? “Sorry if I’m being dense, but I don’t understand.”
“I have a proposition for you. Something I’ve been thinking about for a while.”
“A…proposition?”
“Let’s call it a business proposal. I understand from Tessa you’ve always wanted to open your own bakery. True?”
I am so going to kill my bestie.
“Yes.”
Ms. Patti smiled sweetly at Jill’s answer. “I have firsthand experience with your products. All the cakes and cookies and other goodies you’ve made over the last few months, they’re some of the best I’ve ever eaten. I’m also well aware of the time and effort it takes to make food look and taste good.”
“Uh-huh.” Jill tried to swallow past the gigantic boulder lodged in the back of her throat. She suddenly had an inkling of where Ms. Patti was headed, and it both terrified and intrigued her. Would working for Ms. Patti be so bad?
“Let me cut straight to the bottom line, then we can talk about the details, okay?”
“Sure.”
“I want to go into a partnership with you and open a bakery. Co-owners. I’ll handle the business and financial end of things. You’ll handle running the bakery, hiring employees, and dealing with the day-to-day running the place. Interested?”
Jill knew her mouth hung open, but it felt like a semi had slammed into her at full speed, and she’d been tossed butt-over-bustle and landed on her head. Then again, that probably wouldn’t have been as shocking as Ms. Patti’s proposal.
“I…Ms. Patti…I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say. I don’t have the money to go into a partnership with you. Opening something like a bakery takes a lot of investment cash, and at the moment I’m tapped out.”
“I thought Tessa mentioned you’d been saving up to start a small shop.”
Jill silently cursed her brother, because this was all his fault. If he’d simply managed to get his act together, she wouldn’t have to look like a fool in front of Ms. Patti.
“I had saved a bit of a nest egg. Unfortunately, something came up and I had to use the money I’d set aside. Now I’m starting over.” Because she knew darn good and well, despite all his promises, Dante would never pay her back. He’d need a job for that, and his prospects seemed slim.
“I understand. Still, I’m sure we can work something out.”
“Ms. Patti, I don’t think you understand. I appreciate your offer, honestly, I do, and it’s the nicest, sweetest thing anybody’s done for me in a long time, but I’m going to be straight with you. I’m flat broke. There’s no way I could get a line of credit, much less a loan, to cover the expenses of renting the space, opening a business, getting the necessary equipment. Maybe in a couple of years, I’ll be in a better situation, but—”
“Stop.” Ms. Patti’s voice held a firmness Jill recognized; she’d heard the other woman use that tone to Lucas countless times when they were growing up. She stopped talking.
“You don’t have the money now. Fine, we’ll work around it. One thing you do have is a business degree and a brain. I wager you’ve already worked out what it would take to open the kind of place you’ve dreamed about, done a cost analysis, expensed out every item to the last detail. Am I right?”
Keeping her lips pressed firmly together, Jill nodded.
“I want to see everything you’ve got. I’ve given this a lot of thought, and Shiloh Springs needs an upscale bakery. I’m tired of our folks having to rely on supermarket birthday cakes, or having to order from Austin to get anything custom. We might be a small town, but there’s a need, a niche market, going unfulfilled. We, you and I, are going to fill the void.”
“Ms. Patti, did you get the part where I have no money?”
“We can draw up a business agreement, wherein I will provide the initial funds to get the business up and off the ground. Since I have no doubts this endeavor will be a rousing success, we will stipulate in the contract repayment of the loan will come from the profits after all expenses are covered, including a modest salary for you and whatever staff you hire. Once the loan is paid back, all future profits will be divided equally, fifty-fifty.”
Jill’s breath caught in her throat, her mind whirling with everything Ms. Patti was suggesting. Could she do this? Did she even dare consider it?
“I don’t know what to say. It seems like everything in your agreement is geared in my favor. If you’re putting up all the capital investment, shouldn’t your share of everything be much higher?”
Ms. Patti reached across the table and patted Jill’s hand. “I’m not doing this just for you, hon. It’s for Shiloh Springs. Everybody benefits when—not if—the bakery takes off. I haven’t got a single doubt we’ll be making a profit.” She leaned back in her chair and gave Jill a wink.
“Now, how about you show me the photos of all your cakes? Tessa tells me they’re spectacular.”
Without another word, Jill pulled up the photos and handed her phone to Ms. Patti. As usual, whatever Ms. Patti wanted, she got. And right now, she wanted to go into business with Jill.
Could life get any sweeter?
Lucas stretched and sat up higher in the saddle. He’d gotten up before dawn and headed to Dane’s, needing to do some physical labor. Maybe if he broke a good sweat, he’d get his mind off Jill and her midnight blue eyes, or the hint of sadness he’d glimpsed in them the night before. Dane immediately put him to work, riding the pasture looking for strays. After the long, wet night, the morning sun beating down against his shoulders felt good, and he rubbed his hand along the back of his neck, shaded by his hat. The day might turn into a scorcher later, but for now it was perfect—because he was home.
“You gonna tell me why you showed up without a word? It’s not like you to turn up like a bad penny. And don’t tell me you planned on coming home yesterday, because Momma or Dad would have mentioned it.”
“Turned the finished story in to the editor. Decided I needed a break, both physical and mental.” He paused for a moment, considering his words. “Bro, this one turned ugly fast. I’ve seen some horrific things digging for info, but this story got to me.”
Dane pushed his hat further down on his forehead, and kept a light touch on the reins as they walked the horses back toward the barn. Lucas wasn’t sure he was ready to discuss the gory details he’d unearthed while researching human trafficking. Not yet. It was still too fresh, too close. “When you’re ready to talk,
I’m here.”
“I know. And I appreciate it. I needed to step away from it for a couple of days. The things I saw…don’t know I’ll ever get some of those images out of my head.”
“I get it. You’ve never been one to simply skim the details and not dig deep to find the truth. Makes you good at your job. But I’m guessing it’s hard to separate the reporter from the man. Most people never see, never imagine, some of the stuff you’ve encountered. Give yourself a break.”
The swaying movement of the horse beneath him eased him like a lullaby, the rocking motion soothing and peaceful. He’d needed this more than he wanted to admit. Being home on the ranch helped ground him, push all the ugliness aside, at least for a while.
“Anything new on the search for Renee?”
Lucas grimaced. “I followed up on the lead Dad told me about last time I was here. Unfortunately, by the time I got to Cincinnati her trail had gone cold, but I did find one thread I’m following. It’s another longshot. I’m trying not getting my hopes up.”
He didn’t want to admit it, but when his dad told him they’d found Renee, he hadn’t wanted to believe it. Not at first. Too many years had passed. Too many dead ends. Too many false promises. He refused to let this latest clue get his hopes up. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried quashing it, a tiny grain of hope still persisted and blossomed no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.
“You’ll find her. Someday, you’re going to look and she’ll be there. Don’t give up.”
Lucas drew in a deep breath, listening to his brother’s words. Aching for them to be the truth. He’d loved his baby sister, adored her from the moment his parents brought her home from the hospital. Spotting the tiny tuft of hair on top of her head, the color the same as he saw in the mirror every morning when he brushed his teeth, she’d been his joy. He wondered what she’d look like now. A grown woman, she’d be in her twenties, maybe with kids of her own. But he’d never forgotten her, not for a single day. The welfare system had failed them when they’d placed them into different locations. After that, there’d been nothing but an avalanche of disinformation, missing records, destroyed files, and cover-ups.
“I’ll never give up on finding Renee. I made her a promise when they took her, and I’ll keep it, if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Anything you need, I’m here. We’re all here for you. We’re family, and Renee is family too. Blood doesn’t matter to a Boudreau.”
“Except I’m not a Boudreau. I’m an O’Malley.”
Dane reached over and snatched the reins out of Lucas’ hand, slowing the horses to a complete stop. “I don’t care what your legal last name is, you moron. You’re a Boudreau, same as the rest of us. Everybody understands why you’ve kept the O’Malley name. We respect it, and the search for your sister. Douglas and Ms. Patti have always understood why you didn’t change it when you came of age, never questioned it. Regardless, you are as much a Boudreau as I am, or any one of the rest of us. Being a Boudreau is about more than carrying the same blood. It’s about choosing your family. Sticking beside each other, no matter what life throws at us, and being there. We’re brothers by choice. Sometimes I think it makes us a heck of a lot closer than blood relations.”
“Sometimes I feel guilty about not changing my name. All the rest of you did it without hesitation.”
“We didn’t have anybody who cared enough to want us, not the way Dad and Momma did—do—you know what I mean. Other than Ridge and Shiloh, you’re the only one who had somebody who cared about what happened to you. Renee didn’t have a choice; she was snatched out of your arms, and you were too young to do anything about it.” Dane tossed the reins back to Lucas. “If I’d had family who’d cared, even a little bit, I’d have done the same. But nobody cared whether I was a Lockhart or a Boudreau—except Douglas and Patricia Boudreau—and me.”
Lucas blinked rapidly, blaming the bright sunshine for the excessive moisture in his eyes. Dane was right. Then again, he usually was. “It drives me crazy sometimes—not knowing what happened to her. I know she’s out there someplace. I feel it here.” Lucas pointed to his chest. “I’d know if she was gone. But I find it strange nobody’s been able to find her. I’ve looked for years. Shiloh’s looked. Antonio’s used his resources with the FBI. Ridge had a couple of his computer hackers, excuse me, computer experts try to find any trace of her. But no matter what direction we take, we fail.”
“Dad’s got his army buddies looking, too.”
“Yeah. Okay, time to stop feeling sorry for myself. You ready for lunch? Bet Momma has something waiting for us.”
“Sounds good. Let’s take care of the horses and wash up.”
“Race ya!” Lucas chuckled as he left Dane in his dust, already feeling happier.
Coming back to Shiloh Springs was good for his soul. He’d talk to his dad later, tell him what he’d found in Cincinnati. But any way he looked at it, it was good to be home.
CHAPTER THREE
Jill stared at the papers scattered across her table, chewing on the end of her pen. She’d been working on spreadsheets for the last two hours, and at this point couldn’t make heads or tails of anything. All she could concentrate on was her talk with Ms. Patti earlier.
Can I really do this? I’ve always dreamt of owning my own bakery, but I never imagined having a partner. What if I screw up? There’s no guarantee it’ll make a profit, and I’d never forgive myself if I lost all Ms. Patti’s money.
She picked at the sticky note she’d put on her cost analysis sheet, staring at the dollar figure she’d written. It was so much money. When she’d fantasized about having her own place, she’d anticipated starting out small. Taking orders for a couple of custom cakes. Maybe catering a few parties, and building her way through word of mouth around town. Thinking about having an actual storefront? It seemed an impossible pipe dream.
“Maybe I can talk with Daisy, see about providing cakes or pies for the diner. Or maybe some breakfast muffins and Danish for the morning crowd.” Tapping her pen against the table, she stared at the large mirror on the wall, not really seeing herself reflected; instead, her mind whirled with the possibilities. Ms. Patti had opened the floodgates and now the ideas wouldn’t stop flowing.
She jerked at the knock on her door, and shook her head. “I’m getting jumpy in my old age.” Tossing down the pen, she walked over and opened it.
“Hey, Sis.” Her brother, Dante, leaned in and brushed a kiss against her cheek before pushing past her into the apartment. Jill rolled her eyes, because it didn’t surprise her. Dante always did what he wanted, when he wanted, and nobody and nothing stopped him. Probably why he was always in trouble. She couldn’t begin to list the number of times she’d pulled him out of one scrape or another. Sometimes those problems were itty-bitty and she handled getting him out of a jam without too much fuss. Other times, Dante was neck deep in alligators and sinking fast, and she’d end up bailing him out. Which explained her current predicament.
“Please tell me you’re not in trouble again.”
Dante feigned a hurt expression, which only lasted a few seconds before he chuckled. He clasped his hands against his heart, and gave a long, exaggerated sigh. “Me? In trouble? Can’t a guy drop by to see his big sister without her thinking he’s in a jam?”
“Not usually.”
“Sheesh. I promise I’ve kept my nose clean, Sis. I told you I would.”
Jill blew the bangs out of her eyes, before walking back to the table, and began gathering up her papers into a messy stack. Better to not let Dante seem them or he’d feel guilty about taking all her savings. Okay, taking wasn’t the right word. He’d given a solemn promise he’d pay her back, though she wasn’t holding her breath. After all, she couldn’t have her brother getting his kneecaps broken, even if he deserved it.
Dante handed her the single rose in his hand.
“Thanks, that’s really sweet of you.”
He shrugged. “Wish I could take the credit.
Found it on the mat in front of your door.”
“It’s not from you?” She glanced at the long-stemmed red rose, turning it in her hand. “Did you see a card?”
“Nope, but then I really wasn’t paying much attention. I picked it up when I knocked.”
Jill headed for the front door and opened it, looking down at the carpet. She didn’t spot a note. How strange. Who’d send her a rose without a card? Closing the door, she walked over to the table and laid the flower next to her computer.
“What’re you up to?” Dante grabbed one of the pages from the stack, and she tried to snatch it back, but he stutter-stepped back a couple paces and held it out of reach. “Work? It’s the weekend, Jilly. You know, time to unwind, have a little fun?”
“Gimme. Unlike some people I know, I need my job. And no, since you asked, it’s not from the office. It’s mine.”
“Cool.” He glanced at the page, his jovial expression turning serious. “This is for the bakery. Before I took your life savings and screwed up everything.”
Jill closed her eyes and counted to five. Some days five was enough, although when he got her riled, it took a full ten count to rein in her temper.
“Look, Dante, we’ve been over this. No sense beating a dead horse.”
He solemnly handed the page back, then turned away. “I can’t believe I’m such an idiot. I never thought I’d lose so much. My luck had to change, I felt it. I swear I’m never gonna play again.”
“Dante, I love you, but don’t make promises you can’t keep. Unless you’re willing to get help, I can’t—I won’t—bail you out again.” She gave a bitter laugh. “I couldn’t even if I wanted. There’s nothing left.”
“Jilly, please, I promise…”
“Stop. Just stop.” She placed the paper back onto the table, and cupped her brother’s face between her hands. “I can’t do it anymore. I know you mean what you say now, but I can’t take another empty promise. You’re old enough to stand on your own two feet and take responsibility for your actions. If you’re going to continue throwing your money away and racking up more debt, don’t come to me with your hand out. Me being your piggy bank stops now. We’ve all got a breaking point, and I’ve reached mine. Dante, you are my baby brother and I adore you to pieces, but it’s over.”