by Aurora Rey
“I’m so glad. You’ll have to make sure he emails me. I’d love to take him to lunch.”
Quinn sighed. “I’m sure he’d like that.”
“And work?” Joanna asked.
The worst part about Lesedi falling in love with Joanna was that Joanna had been a mutual friend as much as Lesedi’s colleague. Hell, Joanna and her wife. Ex-wife. They’d done dinners and wine tours and even a trip to Provincetown together. It made hating her difficult for someone like Quinn, who had a dyed-in-the-wool tendency to assume the best of people. “It’s good.”
“Anything new and exciting in the hopper?”
Her mind flashed to Amanda and her little bakery out in Kenota. Hardly the stuff Cornell powerhouses would find exciting, but it sat pretty high on her list at the moment. “The Trumansburg Library expansion will break ground soon.”
“That’s great,” Joanna said. They both nodded encouragingly.
Quinn nodded back but allowed her gaze to wander in search of someone—anyone—else she might know and urgently need to chat with. She’d made it about halfway around the room when her sights landed on the woman she’d just been thinking about. Bingo. “If you two will excuse me, I see a client I should say hello to.”
“Of course.” Lesedi reached out and squeezed her hand. “It’s good to see you.”
She no longer flinched when Lesedi did that. It still bugged her, but more in a vaguely awkward way than the patronizing pity she got right after the divorce. “You take care.”
“You, too.”
Quinn wound her way around the room, trying not to be obvious in making a beeline for Amanda. Quinn got to her as she dropped a handful of tickets into one of the raffle buckets. “So, you’re an all in sort of woman.”
Amanda turned her way, confusion apparent on her face. Fortunately, recognition quickly followed. “Quinn. Hi.”
“I didn’t expect to see you here, but it’s definitely a pleasant surprise.”
“Same. I’ve been coming for years, actually. Long-time supporter of the agency. You?”
“Only my second. My firm did the design for the new administrative spaces last year.” Arti had pitched it as their big pro bono project for the year. Once Quinn understood the scope of the project and the mission of the organization, she’d taken the lead.
“Right, right. I remember the board president talking about it.”
Not quite wanting the conversation to end, Quinn indicated the bucket. “So, as I was saying before, you’re an all in sort of woman.”
Amanda offered a playful smile. “I embrace a hybrid model.”
They could be discussing sock-folding methods for all she cared, as long as it came with that smile. “Do tell.”
“I buy twenty tickets. Ten go in the one I really want and then the other ten get spread around.”
“Huh.” She didn’t put a lot of thought into raffles, but it was kind of genius.
“You think I’m silly. I can tell.”
“Not at all.” There were several words she was thinking that she’d just as soon Amanda not know, but silly was absolutely not one of them.
Amanda lifted her chin. “All right. What’s your method?”
Quinn raised her hands. “I’m now embarrassed to admit I don’t have one.”
Amanda let out a tutting sound and shook her head. “Well, that won’t do.”
“Would it be bad form to steal your strategy?”
She considered for a moment. “Only if you put your ten in Cook’s Night Off.”
That particular item, a collection of gift certificates to local restaurants, was one of several dozen options. “Seems fair.”
“Good. I’d hate to have to boo you if you won.” Amanda smirked.
“Do you always heckle the winner if it isn’t you?”
Amanda shrugged. “Only on the inside. I’m generally well behaved.”
How was it easier to talk to Amanda than the majority of the women she went on dates with?
“You’re making that judgmental face again.” Amanda seemed to be kidding but still.
Quinn cleared her throat. “Sorry. My mind wandered. No judgment, I swear.”
“I suppose I can take your word for it.”
Before Quinn could reply, a voice came over the sound system encouraging guests to visit the buffet and purchase their raffle tickets in the next ten minutes. “I guess that’s my cue.”
“I’ll see you next week, right?”
All the approvals were in place and they were officially closing the bakery to start construction. They had one final meeting to sign contracts and releases. “Absolutely. Are you excited?”
Amanda clasped her hands together, delight clear on her face. “I can’t wait.”
As sorry as she was to see the conversation end, she did need to buy her tickets. And get breakfast. And find her table. She offered Amanda a parting smile. “I hope you win.”
Amanda chuckled. “You, too.”
She joined the line at one of the ticket stations and studied the program for the raffles she should enter. She put her first ten in a wine of the month from Fairmount Ridge and sprinkled the remainder without thinking about it too much. She was sure, however, to avoid Amanda’s bucket of choice. Because while she believed Amanda wouldn’t literally boo her, when it came to staying on Amanda’s good side, she found herself not wanting to take any chances.
Chapter Eleven
Amanda took a deep breath and looked around. Everything, including the appliances and the big worktable, had been packed up and put in storage. Even knowing it was temporary, seeing her kitchen so empty filled her with unease. It reminded her of a dream—nightmare, really—she used to have of this exact scene. Only, in her dream, Bake My Day had failed. She’d failed. And she was standing alone in the kitchen to say a final good-bye to everything she’d worked for.
She shook her head, as though the movement itself might shake off the anxiety that used to haunt her with more regularity. It was silly to feel that way now. Bake My Day wasn’t merely keeping its head above water. It was more successful than she’d dared to hope for back in the early days. Back when Mel had been supportive on the surface but couldn’t seem to keep herself from commenting on their dwindling savings. When every Saturday night cake delivery was met with a self-aggrandizing offer to babysit. Like taking care of her own children by herself was some grand gesture.
Her phone pinged with a text from Mel. Big day! Let me know if you want company.
The sense of dread crept back in, and it hit her. She wasn’t feeling this way because of the bakery. She was feeling this way because of Mel. She dashed off an, I’m good, but thanks, annoyed but not wanting to start an argument.
She headed to the front of the bakery, which managed to look even more starkly empty than the kitchen. It didn’t bring her down the way the kitchen did, though. Realizing the source of her angst had actually helped.
Joss was already there, giving directions to her crew. When she saw Amanda, she stopped mid-sentence and did introductions. A small thing, really, but the kind of personal touch Amanda appreciated.
“Do you need anything else from me?” she asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to linger a moment longer.
“No, we’re ready to get started.”
She nodded, not used to feeling unneeded. “Great.”
“I have something for you, though.” Joss handed her a white hard hat with the Bauer and Sons logo on it in deep green.
“Is this a souvenir?”
“No, it’s so you can visit the site anytime you want.” The answer came from Quinn, who appeared in the doorway, hard hat already on.
She ignored the ripple of pleasure. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”
Quinn looked at her feet before making eye contact. “I had a feeling you’d be here, and I thought a little moral support might come in handy.”
“Thank you.” So similar to Mel’s offer, yet utterly different. With one comment, Quinn had
managed to make her presence all about Amanda.
“It’s my pleasure.” Quinn angled her head toward Joss. “Although, I should warn you, she’s not above putting clients to work. It’s how she met her wife.”
Joss shot Quinn a look of mild exasperation. “That’s not what happened.”
Amanda looked from Joss to Quinn and back. “Why do I get the feeling this is a really good story?”
“Because it is,” Quinn said.
The exasperation faded and Joss smiled. “Olivia, my wife, hired me to rehab the old farmhouse she bought. She had strong feelings about doing some of the work herself.”
“Ah. That’s sweet. Were you already together?”
“Oh, no.” Quinn’s answer came with a snicker. “They couldn’t stand each other at first.”
Amanda had only met Joss twice now, but she liked her. “Is that so?”
“It was mostly me.” Joss shook her head. “I was an ass. Fortunately, she didn’t hold it against me in the long run. And I promise I won’t put you to work.”
“That’s good. I’m pretty sure I’d just be in your way.” She sometimes wished she was handy, but not enough to risk ruining something.
Quinn narrowed her eyes. “Do you want to be put to work?”
“Um.” She hadn’t given it any thought.
“What about some demo?” Joss asked.
Quinn offered an encouraging smile. “Impossible to mess up. And a great way to work out aggression.”
She thought about Mel and the idea of destroying something suddenly had a certain appeal. “Really?”
Joss and Quinn exchanged knowing looks. Quinn looked her up and down. “How do you feel about that outfit?”
She’d specifically dressed for a construction zone—jeans and a University of Rochester shirt with sneakers. “They’re work clothes.”
Joss grinned. “All right, then. Let’s do this.”
She put on her hard hat and Joss handed her a pair of gloves, then a sledgehammer. Quinn stepped to the side while Joss gave directions. The hammer weighed a lot more than she thought and the idea of trying to wield it with an audience made her self-conscious. “Maybe I shouldn’t. I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
Quinn put a hand on her shoulder. A casual gesture, friendly at most, but it sent a shiver up her spine. “You can’t mess it up.”
Backing out now would make her look like a coward, which would be worse than looking like an idiot. “Okay.”
Amanda positioned herself the way Joss instructed. She swung the hammer over her shoulder and into the wall. It broke through and lodged with a satisfying thud. Joss helped her free it and encouraged her to keep going. So she did. Again and again. She didn’t picture Mel’s face, exactly, but their recent interactions certainly fueled her.
When she stopped, a dozen holes covered the wall. Her arms ached and she was out of breath. “That might be my limit.”
“That was amazing.” Joss took the hammer from her. “You ever want to join the crew, you say the word.”
Amanda laughed. “You’re exaggerating, but thank you.”
“You did better than I could have.” Quinn’s voice gave her a start.
She’d sort of forgotten Quinn was there, watching her. She felt her cheeks flush. “I’m not going to lie, it was fun.”
“Right? Fair warning, though, your arms will probably be killing you tomorrow.”
Despite the self-consciousness a moment ago, she couldn’t help but smirk. “I lift a lot of twenty-quart bowls in an average day.”
Quinn bowed slightly. “I stand corrected.”
Amanda pulled off the gloves and handed them to Joss. “Thank you for letting me have a go. Now I’ll get out of your hair so you can get to work.”
“Don’t feel like you need to keep tabs on things, but you really are welcome anytime,” Joss said.
“Thank you for that, too.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Quinn said.
In the parking lot, Amanda hesitated. She wasn’t in a rush to leave but didn’t want to keep Quinn from whatever she needed to be doing inside. “Was the hard hat your idea or Joss’s?”
“It’s something Joss will do when a client is interested. I suggested you might be one of those clients.”
For some reason, Quinn thinking about her that way made her happy. She took off the hat and studied it. “I appreciate that. And you being here today.”
“Of course. I confess, I had an ulterior motive. I wanted to see you.”
Another shiver of pleasure. “You did?”
“Now that construction is underway, I thought we could discuss furniture.”
“Oh.” Of course Quinn would want to talk to her about the project. It was dumb of her to think otherwise. Even after that maybe almost kiss on her porch.
“I mean, I wanted to see you. I just also had a reason.”
Did Quinn mean that or did she see the disappointment on Amanda’s face and want to soften the blow? She had no way of knowing, which irked her. Why was this so complicated? “What about furniture?”
“You mentioned wanting to do antique tables and chairs.”
“Do you think that won’t work?”
“Oh, no. I think it’s a fantastic idea. I wanted to know if you’d already been scouting them or were starting from scratch.”
The few tables she’d had in the bakery were wrought iron. Cute, but not the most comfortable. She planned to set them up outside after the renovation. They’d only be usable a few months of the year, but better than having them go to waste. “I haven’t started yet. Is that a problem?”
Quinn smiled. “I don’t think so. I asked because there’s this amazing antique show and flea market near Cooperstown. I thought maybe we could go together, make a day of it?”
Was this a date? Or the sort of thing architects did with their clients? “That sounds like fun. When is it?”
“This weekend. I thought, with the bakery closed, there might be a chance you were free.”
It really did seem like a date. Didn’t it? “I have one wedding cake Friday. I’m co-opting a kitchen in Trumansburg. I could go Saturday or Sunday.”
“I think Saturday should be the better day, weather-wise. And the offerings are better the first day. How about I pick you up at nine? There’s a great brewery and barbecue joint, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
She’d pretty much be into anything that involved Quinn, but didn’t want to seem too eager. “Sounds good.”
* * *
Quinn pulled into the grass lot at the edge of the fair, put her car in park, and cut the engine. “Ready?”
Amanda nodded eagerly. “I am.”
It was hard to say which had her stomach doing nervous flips—Amanda’s genuine excitement about hunting for old chairs or being on this pseudo-date with Amanda in the first place. Amanda had this effervescent personality, but it had substance underneath. She’d come to appreciate how rare that was. “We should be able to fit eight in the back and another four on the roof if you don’t mind them being tied down for the ride home.”
“If I find a dozen chairs today, you can tie me to the roof for the ride home.” Her emphasis on the “me” made Quinn laugh.
“Fortunately, you take up less room in the passenger seat, so you’re safe.”
Amanda smirked. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”
A harmless question, but it hit home as they wandered into town. Booths lined the main street, mostly crafts and food vendors. “All the serious stuff is in the field up ahead.”
“Field?”
They rounded a small bend in the road and the main area spread out to their left, the size of three or four football fields. “I told you it was big.”
“Yeah, but this.” Amanda gestured in front of her, arms wide. “This is intense. How are we supposed to make our way through it all?”
“We aren’t. We’re going to be selective.”
Amanda’s brows furrowed in a way she found
unreasonably charming. “But how do you even know where to start?”
“Easy. You come with someone who knows what they’re doing.” She grabbed Amanda’s hand. Only after doing so did she realize what an intimate gesture it was. But dropping it would only draw more attention or, worse, give Amanda the impression she didn’t want to hold her hand. She made a point of giving it a gentle tug as she steered them into the crowd. There, that made it seem logistical more than romantic.
They meandered the aisles, scoping out chairs, but pausing for vintage signs, antique milk jugs, and even a chicken coop. Amanda’s commentary was smart with a hint of self-deprecating. If Quinn hadn’t been smitten before, she was now.
Amanda found two pairs of chairs, letting Quinn haggle on the second set. She got the price down by twenty dollars, which didn’t seem like much but thrilled Amanda. “That’s it. I’m only going to flea markets and antique shows with you.”
Sounded good to her. “I accept this right and responsibility.”
After a couple of hours, the press of people and lack of shade started to take a toll, at least on her. She imagined Amanda felt the same. “Lunch break?”
“That sounds fantastic.”
“The barbecue place is out of this world, but if that’s not your thing, there are lots of other options.”
“Oh, no.” Amanda shook her head. “You put barbecue in my head and I’ve been thinking about it all week.”
“It’s that way.”
The line was long but moved quickly. Before long, they sat side by side at a picnic table with a family of four.
“You’re going to let me try that, right?” Amanda gestured to the pulled pork sandwich in front of Quinn.
“Assuming you’re going to return the favor with the brisket.”
“Want to go halvsies?”
Quinn chuckled, amused by the phrasing as much as the idea. “Sure.”
“Don’t feel like you have to say yes,” Amanda said.
“Oh, I want to. I just don’t ever assume people want to share. And my ex-wife is a vegetarian.”
Amanda laughed. “I have kids. I’ve been sharing my plate for twenty years.”