Her mind raced with details of the cupcake sale. Would thirty dozen be enough? Maybe she should make forty. And what about display stands? She should order more of those five-tiered stands she used to display cupcakes when she catered parties.
She finished her coffee, watered the plants, brushed her teeth, and changed in record time. By the time she was ready to head to the bakery, Urchin had hopped up to the wide window ledge in the kitchen, which always saw the best sunlight in the morning. He was asleep, having forgotten her existence.
Sandcastles was less than a mile away, so she hopped on her Vespa and was there in no time. It was early still, and fingers of sunrise licked at the ocean horizon, casting long shadows down the quiet street. Claire inserted the key to unlock the front door of her shop then peered over her shoulder out of habit as she pulled the glass door shut behind her.
Something was different about the bread store across the street.
Fresh, new letters announced the name of the bakery in the window. The paper had been removed, and she could see inside to the aisles of shelves. At the far end was a counter and a display next to it. A gigantic poster with a golden buttery loaf of bread hung in the window announcing the two-for-one sale for the grand opening on Saturday.
That poster was eye-catching, though. It, like the block letters of the name, was done in bright red. It would draw the eye of everyone who passed up and down the street. On Saturday, there would be a line around the block of shoppers.
Well, fine then. Bradford Breads wasn’t the only one who could order a poster.
“You are not going to out-market me.” She didn’t care if Bradford Breads had more money to take out ads and make gorgeous signs picturing loaves of bread slathered with butter that made even her mouth water. Claire could do one better.
She ducked inside and pulled the door shut.
The sound of a drill made her jump. She’d given Sally a key so she could let herself in early in the morning if she had repairs and didn’t want to get underfoot once the bakery was open.
The handywoman stood on a step stool, wearing her usual uniform of worn overalls. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and she had a look of concentration on her face as she placed a screw into the hinge of a cabinet where the door had come loose. When she swung it easily back and forth, testing the movement, it was obvious she had already fixed the hinge.
Claire smiled. “Good morning, Sally. You’re here early.”
“Ayuh. I figured I’d fix this up and get out of your way before you start the day. I heard about the sale. Lots to do, I’m sure.”
“There is, but I’ve got a handle on it.”
“Right, I’m sure you do.” Sally climbed down off the step stool. She removed the screwdriver attachment from the drill and put them both into her old black metal toolbox that sat on the floor, then stood and looked Claire in the eye. “I don’t think you need a big sale, though, just because the bread place is having one. Might be better to focus on those pipes. Just sayin’.”
“I’ll get the pipes fixed. Gotta find out about a loan first. And while I’m waiting, it won’t hurt to have a sale.” The pipes were important, too, but if Bradford Breads took all her customers, there might not be any point in fixing the pipes. Claire glanced in the direction of the bread store. She could just see the corner of the sign. Was it too early to call Stacy’s Signs?
Like many of the residents of Lobster Bay, Stacy also owed Claire. Last year, she’d forgotten to order a cake for her daughter-in-law’s baby shower. Claire had filled the order the morning of the shower as a favor, and now it was time to call that favor in. Images of a gigantic sign with a big pink cupcake and the words three-for-one in big bold letters near the Sandcastles logo came to mind.
Sally clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth and crossed her arms over her chest. “I see you’ve got that look in your eye. But honestly, Claire, that bread place isn’t a threat to you. They make savory. You make sweet. You ought to team up, even. It’d be a marriage made in heaven.”
Claire jerked her gaze from the phone where she’d been scrolling for Stacy’s contact info. “Marriage, my butt.” The word stirred feelings in her best left forgotten. That part of her life was behind her. She’d come out ahead and was a better person for it, a more successful person.
Truthfully, she had built herself the perfect life, and she wasn’t going to let Bradford Breads ruin it. Nor was she going to “team up” with anyone. If she had learned anything from that ugly time in her past, it was that she could only depend on herself. Depending on another person only brought disappointment.
Chapter Eight
Rob Bradford had always known he would return to Lobster Bay. For most of his life, the town had been a bright and happy memory to look back on when the going got tough. And when he needed a fresh start, this was the place that had jumped into his mind.
Finally feeling the tension of the last few years start to drain from his shoulders, the owner of Bradford Breads leaned back in the leather seat of his five-year-old Chevy Tahoe and admired the newest location of his chain store. He had a dozen across New England, but this location was closest to his heart.
Rob had fond childhood memories of Lobster Bay, where he’d spent several idyllic vacations with his parents as a child before his mom got sick with cancer. Once she’d been diagnosed, there were no more vacations. When she’d finally died after a five-year battle, the family had been so exhausted, no one could find joy in vacations anymore.
Of course, that had been thirty years ago. A lot had happened since then, including his own wife’s death five years ago. But Rob didn’t want to dwell on the past. This was a new start for him, a fresh beginning that he was looking forward to after all the sadness in his life.
The town had changed a bit since he was a kid. There were more stores, but it was still a small, quaint town. It still had a gorgeous beach, and the town continued to decorate the streets with boxes and beds of flowers in an inviting, charming way. There was also Lobster Bay itself, with the bobbing lobster traps, and Perkins Cove, with its clusters of fishing boats. It was a place where a guy could start a new life.
Movement across the street caught his eye. The bakery. He didn’t remember it being there when he was a kid. Someone was putting a sign up out front. He narrowed his eyes and craned his neck forward to see it. A cupcake sale—buy one, get two free? He squinted a moment before the date of the sale struck him. He jerked his head toward his own sign. It was the same date of his grand opening.
Was the bakery owner worried about the competition? Rob hoped not. He’d run into this sort of thing before. Whenever he opened one of his stores, the other businesses in town felt intimidated. He hoped the bakery owner didn’t feel the same way. He had no intention of putting anyone out of business. In fact, he was very careful about that. With every new location he opened, he made sure not to setup business near another store that sold mainly bread.
Rob loved his bread business. It reminded him of his mom. From the time he could walk, he had grown up watching or helping her knead the dough, peeking under the cloth to check on rising bread, or smelling the fresh scent of it baking. In a way, every time he made bread, he was keeping her memory alive. After he’d graduated from college, he’d stopped buying bread at the store and started the tradition of making it himself. What began as a hobby had grown into a full-time, very lucrative business.
He got out of his SUV, shielding his eyes against the sun to look across the street and through the glass front windows of the bakery. Inside, customers sat at tables. More tables were placed artfully on the brick walkway outside. Planters loaded with flowers and ferns added color and vibrancy to the spot. It looked nice. Cozy. A place he would want to stay and linger. Should he consider something like this for his store? He’d never thought much about the ambiance, but the bakery looked so welcoming. It made him want to step inside.
He should introduce himself to the owner. The information he’d gathered f
rom a representative before he’d leased his location had spoken of sweet baked goods rather than bread. Cupcakes, cookies, muffins, that sort of thing. Without bread to speak of, they weren’t in direct competition.
He could make friends and show how their businesses could complement each other. He was starting across the street when a woman appeared at the window. Wisps of auburn hair, which had escaped from being pinned back, framed a pretty oval face. It gave her an air of busyness. Coupled with the apron she had tucked lovingly around the curves of her body, she definitely posed an attractive picture. With her air of confidence and the way she was looking things over as if to make sure everything was perfect—much like Rob did for his stores—he figured she must be the owner.
She monitored the arrangement of the sign in front of her shop. Then her gaze drifted to him. Her face turned sour, her eyes shooting daggers across the street.
Rob backed up. That must have been the shop owner, and she did not look in the mood to make friends. Maybe today wasn’t the best day to introduce himself.
Rob retreated to his store. He had a lot to do before the grand opening on Saturday. He always personally outfitted the new locations with the equipment and supplies needed to open. It was an excuse to make sure it was up to his quality standards. Usually he just spent a day or two and handed the store over to a manager to run it day-to-day, but since he was making Lobster Bay his home, he was going to run the new store himself.
Whenever he’d run into resistance before, he’d always managed to win over the other shop owners. Perhaps before he talked to the bakery owner, he should feel out some of the locals to find out the best way to approach her. In fact, maybe he would start with the bed-and-breakfast he remembered as a teenager. Tides, he thought it was called. He had stayed there once with his mom, and a charming elderly couple had run it.
They might be interested in a standing order of homemade bread to serve to their guests. Next, he could speak with the handywoman listed in the local newspaper who he planned to hire to tie up some odds and ends.
The matter settled, Rob got to work with his shop inspection. Better to find out a little bit more about the bakery owner before he got his head handed to him on a platter.
Chapter Nine
Claire glared at the man across the street who was stepping into Bradford Breads. Was that the manager? He was about her age, fit, with shoulders that filled out his polo shirt. She couldn’t see too many details from across the street except that he had a strong jaw and short-cropped dark hair with shades of silver. If he hadn’t been working for the enemy, she might have thought him attractive. Might have.
Naturally, he was working for the enemy because he was heading for the bread store, which wasn’t open to customers. Only someone who worked there would be able to get in. She’d never seen him in town before, so he wasn’t local. And the owner of a franchise like Bradford Breads never did the grunt work himself. He sent lackeys. Middle-aged, attractive lackeys with silver at their temples.
“Is that the owner of Bradford Breads?”
Claire jumped at Sally’s voice. “Probably some lackey.”
Sally pressed her lips together as she stared unabashedly at the shop across the street. “Could be. I heard the owner inspects all his stores before they open personally.”
“That’s not him. Look at what he’s driving.”
Yes, the SUV was an expensive model, but it was several years old. And it appeared to be in good condition, no broken taillights or cracked wind shield. But there was dust caked on the car as if the owner had gone off-roading.
Sally squinted. “Ayuh. I heard those bread stores of his are successful. He probably drives something flashier.”
Claire pictured a red Corvette, a short, balding man slipping from the driver’s side as his blond trophy wife tottered to her feet on high heels that would get stuck in the sidewalk cracks. Her name would probably end in two Es.
The customer who had been standing at the cash register cleared her throat.
As Claire cashed her out, her phone chimed with an incoming text message. She ignored it until she’d boxed up her customer’s choices and delivered them to her. Only then did Claire fish the phone out of her pocket.
She smiled in relief as she peered at the text. It was the last of her teenage hires promising to come in to bake cupcakes on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday evening. With their help and her supervision, she would be on top of the last-minute cupcake sale four days away. The morning was going well. She’d already secured an ad with the local radio station, ordered flyers from Stacy, and now had helpers for the baking. She breathed a little easier.
At least until she looked up from the phone to find Sally standing in front of her.
“Good news?” asked the old woman.
Claire nodded.
The handywoman grunted. “Well, that’s good because you’re not going to like what I found in the kitchen.”
Claire sighed and followed the older woman to the site of the concern. What would she find? Rats? A busted pipe already turning her kitchen into the town swimming pool? The floor was dry.
Claire followed Sally to the bathroom, where the handywoman pointed under the vanity. “Got a leak.”
Shoot! The pipes. “Can you patch it until I get money for the pipe repairs?”
Sally’s eyes narrowed. She rubbed her chin and bent over to inspect the pipes again. “I guess so. But these are old, too, like the rest of the building.” She peered back up at Claire, awaiting the final decision.
The cupcake sale was already in motion. She hadn’t talked to the bank about the loan for the pipe repairs. She only needed four more days to make it through the grand opening, then she would get the ball rolling for the whole repair job.
“A patch job will have to do. Let’s hope it holds until after the big cupcake sale.”
Hailey parked the old beat-up Dodge she’d borrowed from her grandfather in the town lot a few stores down from Sandcastles. She turned off the ignition and patted the dashboard. “Now you be nice and startup when I get off work.”
Ignoring the rusty groan of the car door, she hurried down the street to Sandcastles. Across the street, something was different. The store now had the paper off the windows and a big sign for a sale. Oh no! Would that take business away?
She let herself in the bakery’s side door, almost forgetting to pull it tight. The door was another thing at Sandcastles that needed to be fixed. If they didn’t make sure it latched, it would swing back open. The last thing they needed was a bakery full of flies.
“Did you see the big sale sign across the street?” she asked Claire as she cinched the strings around her waist.
Claire turned from where she’d been talking to Sally in the hallway. It seemed like Sally had been there more often than not lately, which added another layer of worry. Were there more and more things that needed to be fixed? Poor Claire. Hailey knew that Claire wasn’t exactly rolling in money. Even if Hailey took some responsibility from Claire’s shoulders, she wasn’t sure Claire would have extra money to give her a small raise.
“Yes, but we’re going to do them one better,” Claire said.
“We are?”
“Yes. We’re having a two-for-one cupcakes sale on Saturday.”
Hailey turned to survey the kitchen with its one oven and limited counter space, already calculating what they would need to pull that off in her head. “How many extra cupcakes?”
“About thirty dozen.”
Hailey let out a low whistle. “Okay, we’ll have to bake at night unless we’re going to have less of the regular items.”
“I know. I want to keep our regular schedule during the day but figured we could bake extra at night. The cupcakes will keep, and I’ll ask Jane and Maxi to help frost them all on the last night. I’ve hired Ashton and Sarah to help with the baking, and if you have time at night, I’ll pay you extra.”
Hailey frowned. A few nights of extra pay wouldn’t solve all her proble
ms. Every little bit helped, though. “I might be able to do some extra hours.” If Gramp’s car holds out.
“Great! You can bring Jennifer.”
“Shoot! Jennifer has summer soccer every night this week. Maybe I can get Mrs. Pease to take her.”
Claire’s eyes filled with motherly concern. “You don’t want to miss a game, do you? It won’t be but the blink of an eye, and she’ll be off on her own. Don’t feel like you have to come. There will be plenty of hands to bake the cupcakes.”
“We’ll see.” Hailey didn’t want to voice her worries or the fact that she could use extra money, so she changed the subject. “What’s going on in the bathroom?”
Claire glanced into the bathroom, where Sally could be heard clanging a wrench against the pipes, and plastered a smile on her face, one that didn’t reach her eyes and worried Hailey. “Oh, just a little leak. Sally will take care of it.” Claire gestured toward the kitchen. “I’ve got cinnamon rolls in the oven. Can you mix up some brownies?”
“I’m on it.” Hailey headed toward the cabinet and pulled out cocoa, flour, and baking soda. “Do you have a game plan? Like how many per night and a list of ingredients, that sort of thing.” She put the dry ingredients on the counter and headed to the fridge for eggs, milk, and butter.
“I’m making a list of ingredients, but a solid plan might be good. Maybe I should see if Maxi and Jane want to help me work it out. Jane is so good with that sort of thing. Would you come too?”
Hailey was honored to be included. She loved Claire’s friends, who liked to mother her and Jennifer. It was welcome attention since Hailey’s own mother had died when she was twelve. She liked to spend time with them, but even better, the invitation signaled that Claire trusted her as more than just hired help. “I’d love to.”
Chapter Ten
Tides was the same as Rob remembered from when he had stayed there as a kid. Even the interior—with the large old-fashioned floral-wallpaper foyer that served as a lobby, the well-kept balustrade of the staircase leading to the second floor, and the walls hung with paintings of the beach and other nearby landmarks—hadn’t changed.
Saving Sandcastles Page 5