Her cell phone buzzed. She dusted the crumbs off her fingers and pulled it out of her pocket, smiling when she read the text. Your father says he wants mincemeat. Is that really made of meat?
She shook her head as she texted back. Sorry, Mom, it’s meat. Beef and fruit and sugar. And brandy.
Her phone buzzed again. Beef and fruit and sugar? Together? That’s disgusting.
Just think of it as fruit cake with extra protein.
Her mother sent back a frowny face, and Quinn laughed.
She finished her snack, tucked the rest of the loaf in a safe place, and washed her hands, then stood in the middle of the kitchen and analyzed what needed to be done. There was an order on the board for three dozen cupcakes, so she pulled out the butter and eggs for that. She had just grabbed the cupcake tins from the shelf when Tony D’Angelo walked in the front of the shop, looking around like he’d never seen the place before even though he’d practically grown up here.
“Hey, Mr. D’Angelo,” she greeted him, walking out to where he stood.
He raised a hand and shook his head. “No, that’s my father. Please call me Tony.”
Quinn tried to hide a snicker as she remembered how Mr. D had wanted her to marry his son. That was so much more than a little awkward. But Tony would never have to know about that. “How is your father today?”
Tony sighed. “Will you sit with me for a moment, Quinn?”
She followed him over to the table and sat across from him. The lines around his eyes made him look a lot older than he actually was, and she guessed that he hadn’t slept much.
“Last night, my father told my mother that it was time to place him the nursing home. She tried to talk him out of it, but he was pretty insistent, and this morning, his mind is still made up. She’s heartbroken about the whole thing.”
“I’m sure she is. She loves your father very much.”
Tony passed a hand over his eyes. “My father is a great man, and my mother is an amazing woman. I’ve been very blessed. Now some decisions have to be made, and they’re not easy. Nothing about this is going to be easy.”
“Can I get you some coffee or something, Tony?”
He blinked a few times. “That would be nice. And do you have any bagels?”
“They just came out a few minutes ago.”
“That must be what gave me the idea—I can smell them. Thanks, Quinn.”
She stepped into the kitchen and grabbed a couple different kinds of bagels and a dish of cream cheese, then asked Kenny if he’d bring out the coffee and mugs. Once everything was situated, she sat down again and sipped while Tony ate.
“Thank you. The bagels are just like what my father used to make.”
“We use his recipes for all the classics.”
Tony nodded. “Quinn, do you like working here?”
A sudden pit developed in her stomach. Was this part of the hard decisions the family needed to make—were they going to sell the bakery, maybe to pay for Mr. D’s long-term care? She couldn’t think of anything worse. Sure, the economy had made things difficult, but they were still in the black, and she’d keep doing everything she could to make sure they stayed that way.
Tony was waiting for her answer. She decided the only thing she could do was tell him the absolute truth. “I love it,” she said. “I can’t imagine working anywhere else.”
Tony visibly relaxed. “I was hoping you’d say that. The thing is, Quinn, my parents trust you and rely on you, and from the times I’ve met you and seen the shop, I agree with their assessment. You’ve been good for them and good for the business. I spent some time talking things over with my parents last night, and we’ve come up with some ideas for restructuring the business. We’d like you to be a key part of that restructuring.”
Quinn gripped the handle of her mug. “I’m not sure what you’re saying.”
“The ownership of the bakery was set up so that in the eventuality that my father retired, I’d take things over. He was looking out for the family’s best interests from the very beginning. The thing is, if I were to take over this bakery, I’d have to relocate my family, give up my real estate career, and get my hands floury again, and to be honest, I’m not eager to do that. I worked here all during high school—I don’t want to relive my teenage years, even though it breaks my father’s heart.” He took a sip of his coffee before continuing. Quinn watched him, wondering where he was going with this. “I’d like to turn everything over to someone I could trust to take care of things.”
“How do I play into this?” Quinn asked. She supposed he’d tell her if she just waited long enough, but she didn’t want to wait. Her heart was beating out of her chest, and she needed answers.
“You’ve been handling every aspect of this shop for a long time now, but without the recognition you deserve. I’d like to make you a partner and give you the authority to run this place in my absence. I’ll come in once every three months for a briefing, and then I’ll go away again and leave you to your own devices. My parents both think this is a fantastic idea, and I feel really good about it.”
Quinn blinked several times. Stupid tears that kept showing up when she least wanted them. “A partner?”
“A partner. With a substantial increase in your salary and profit sharing. Ordinarily, a partner would put in some capital, but you’re doing all the work, so we’ll consider that your contribution. What do you say?”
Quinn leaned back and exhaled. Partnership was something she’d never expected. She’d dreamed of one day owning her own shop, but knew that would take more money she’d never be able to scrape together. This was the next-best thing, and she wouldn’t have to come up with a dime.
“You said I’d have authority,” she said slowly. “How much authority?”
Tony threw his head back and laughed. “Going straight for the jugular, I see. You’ll make a fine businesswoman. I tell you what. If you decide to replace all the kitchen equipment or start selling pizza or make any other large decision, I’d like to be in on it. If you want to change prices or add new menu items or hire additional employees, that’s entirely up to you.”
“Consult with you about pizza. Got it.”
“So, what do you say?” Tony raised an eyebrow.
“I should probably think this over or something, but I don’t need to. I accept.”
“That’s great. What a load you’ve taken off my mind.” Tony reached across the table and shook her hand. “I’ll contact a lawyer to draw up the paperwork, and we’ll get this finalized. Thanks, Quinn. I feel like I can breathe now.” He nudged the plate of bagels toward her. “Join me. It’s our first business brunch together.”
Quinn smiled as she picked up a sesame seed bagel and sliced it down the middle.
“Oh, and this way, we don’t have to get married in order for you to really be part of the business.”
Quinn’s hands froze and she glanced up at him. He had a big grin on his face.
“Yes, my father told me his grand idea. For some reason, my lovely wife keeps slipping his mind.”
Quinn chuckled. “I was hoping you’d never hear about that. It was embarrassing enough before.”
Tony smiled even more. “No harm done. I’ll have the lawyer draft out that agreement, and if there’s anything I’ve overlooked, just let me know and we’ll get it added in.”
As they finished eating, Quinn asked Tony about his family, and he was more than happy to brag about his sons and their academic successes. By the time all the bagels were gone, Quinn was totally relaxed about entering this new phase of her life. Tony seemed pretty laid back, and she had the feeling they’d work well together.
She had expected to be completely wiped out after all her adventures the night before, but this exciting turn of events had filled her with adrenaline. Sleep would probably elude her that night, so she decided to see about holding a makeup session for her cake decorating class. Funny how she had to keep doing that. After sending a few texts to see if her studen
ts were game, she went back into the kitchen, ready to whip up something amazing.
“Kenny,” she called out, “what’s your favorite thing we make that we haven’t made for a while?”
He came out from the storeroom, lugging a fifty-pound bag of flour. “Devil’s food torte?”
“You’re right—we haven’t made that for a while. And it does sound good.” She got the mixer started on the cupcakes for her order and then pulled out the ingredients for the torte, humming while she worked.
* * *
Quinn’s students had sounded more than happy to come back and give their class another go. Well, Melba, Kathy, and Helen were happy—ReAnne didn’t seem to be happy about anything, ever, and Quinn hadn’t heard back from Jonah. He was probably right in the middle of something complicated and couldn’t take a second to return her text. Maybe his hands were covered in cement or he was balancing with one foot on a ladder and the other foot on the wall as he hung a very delicate and expensive light fixture. Or maybe the battery in his phone was dead. She was sure there was a perfectly reasonable explanation. She shrugged and finished preparing the supplies for that night’s lesson.
Some of the ladies really needed to practice their frosting roses, which wasn’t a surprise—it took a while to get the hang of them, and they’d only done them once. Quinn would give them a refresher course, and then she’d like them to learn frosting handwriting. She rarely did lettering on cakes—D’Angelo’s Bakery’s cakes were usually a little more elegant than that—but she knew these ladies would really get some use out of the skill. They’d already been talking about how they wanted to make cakes for their kids and grandkids’ birthday parties.
Quinn pulled out her phone and checked it again just to see if Jonah had texted back and she somehow hadn’t heard it. That wasn’t likely, but it never hurt to make sure. Nothing. It’s not like he had to text her back—there wasn’t a rule in the bylaws of cake decorating classes worldwide that said he had to respond to every text his teacher sent him—but still, it would be nice to know if he’d be able to come.
The ladies arrived and were excited to see that they’d be working on roses again. Quinn was glad that they were eager to do things right—that really was the only way to learn, in her opinion. After everyone’s hands were washed, she got them set up with piping bags and sheets of wax paper to place their roses on.
“So, where’s Jonah tonight?” Helen asked.
Melba sighed. “You’ve got a one-track mind, young lady.”
“What? Just because one of our classmates is missing for the second time and I ask where he is?”
“Exactly.” Melba pointed at her with the tip of her frosting bag. “You could wait for someone else to ask, you know.”
“But no one else was asking.”
Melba turned to Quinn. “Where is Jonah tonight?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t reply to my text.” Quinn busied herself by filling another piping bag, hoping that her sudden rush of disappointment didn’t show on her face.
“Well, maybe he’ll still show up,” Kathy said. “Does this rose look all right?”
The rest of the class period went by quickly as the women improved their rose-making skills and then moved on to lettering. Quinn assured them they could mess up as many times as they wanted—wax paper was cheap and easy to come by. She wouldn’t have them write on cake until this skill was mastered.
A few minutes before the end of class, Quinn glanced over and noticed that ReAnne had created a really nice design on her wax paper. She’d done roses around the edge with latticework between the leaves, and she’d written “Happy Birthday” in the center. It looked almost professional.
“You did a great job with that, ReAnne,” she said. “I’m impressed.”
ReAnne looked down at the table, seeming to be embarrassed, but Quinn noticed the little smile of shy pride that had popped up on her face.
The other women stood and gathered around to see what ReAnne had done, showering her with praise. Quinn stood back and watched, analyzing the situation. ReAnne had been as quiet as a mouse throughout every class session, not seeming to care what the others thought about her. But now, with this positive attention, she was blossoming like one of the roses on her paper. She was animated, showing Melba how she’d positioned the frosting tip just right and managed to keep the pressure on the bag steady. She even held her shoulders a little straighter.
When the class period came to an end, Quinn asked ReAnne if she’d stay for a moment. She waited until everyone was gone and then turned to her student, who had retreated back into her shell of gray and gloom.
“Hey, listen,” Quinn said. “I wonder if you could help me out with something.”
ReAnne gave her a suspicious look. “Like what?”
“I’ve got a big order to fill next month—you know how the art gallery is opening? Well, they’ve asked D’Angelo’s to do the food, and it’s going to be crazy around here. I could use an extra pair of hands, and I wondered if you’d be interested.”
ReAnne blinked a few times. “You want me to help?”
“I do. Now, it would only be for a couple of days, and I can’t pay a whole lot. But it might be fun, and I could really use you. What do you say?” Quinn hadn’t even thought about hiring extra help for that order, and now she was kicking herself. Of course she’d need it—all those desserts, plus her regular business? She’d better get her head more in the game if she was going to be a partner in this place.
“I think I’d really like that,” ReAnne said, a glimmer of that smile returning to her face.
“Fantastic. I’ll let you know the exact hours when we have class again, okay? Do you have any scheduling conflicts I should know about?”
“No, my life is pretty bland and boring.”
Somehow, Quinn was not surprised. “Well, we’ll get some powdered sugar under your fingernails and liven things up a bit. Thanks for this, ReAnne. You’re really doing me a favor here.”
Quinn was pleased to see that the smile remained on ReAnne’s face as she walked out the bakery door.
All the prep work had been done for the next day, so Quinn decided to call it a night. She grabbed her purse and keys and walked outside, looking up into the twilit sky. The days would soon be getting shorter, but for right now, she enjoyed the rosy-purply hues that filled the sky. Then she glanced across the street and to the west. Was that Jonah’s truck parked in front of the hardware store? It sure looked like it—and there was Jonah walking out, his arms holding a box, and Ellie following along behind. He set the box in the bed of his truck and said something, making Ellie laugh. Quinn could hear the sound from where she stood, and it was annoying.
She felt like she shouldn’t be watching them, but honestly, all she was doing was standing on the sidewalk in front of the place where she worked. There was nothing at all wrong with that. Then she saw Ellie go up on her tiptoes and plant a kiss on Jonah’s cheek. What? Who the . . . What the . . . Quinn turned away, fumbling to lock the bakery door. She didn’t even know how to describe what she was feeling. Jealousy? Oh, come on. It’s not like she had any claim on Jonah—that was just silly. Anger? But what on earth did she have to be angry about?
She strode toward her car, hoping Jonah wouldn’t notice her. She was half tempted to creep along in the shadows of the buildings, but that would be even sillier than being jealous. She had no reason to hide.
Thankfully, she made it to her car before she was noticed, and she drove home by way of Benny’s Burgers. She had planned to stop in at the diner, but the diner was next door to the hardware store, and that would totally defeat the whole not-being-seen thing. So she settled for a cheeseburger and onion rings, which actually turned out to be pretty good, watched a movie on her laptop, and tried to focus on all the amazing things in her life—hello? Partnership?—instead of on people like Jonah Owings.
* * *
The check for the window repair came the next day, and Quinn stared at it f
or a long minute. She’d need to tell Jonah it was here, but she was reluctant to call him. What could she say—“Hey, saw Ellie kiss you last night. Want to come pick up your check?” That would be smooth. Very smooth indeed.
She leaned back in the desk chair in the office, still staring at the check. It was crazy to be so hung up on something so simple. Okay, so he hadn’t returned her text and he hadn’t shown up for class. He was a tradesman who had performed a labor at the bakery and he needed to be paid. She could do this.
But his phone went to voicemail.
“Hey, Jonah, this is Quinn. The check from the insurance is here, and I’d like to get you paid for fixing the window. Let me know when you can stop by.”
There—that sounded calm, breezy, and professional all at once. She slid the envelope into the desk drawer and went back into the kitchen, ready to taste Kenny’s latest attempt at the perfect caraway seed bread.
Her regular morning routine was interrupted when Logan walked into the bakery, holding a sheaf of papers. She didn’t know Logan well, just as Laurie’s fiancé and the new lawyer in town working with Melvin Brady. That must be why he was here—he was probably representing the D’Angelo family in the partnership. They always used Melvin’s firm.
“Hi,” he said as she walked out of the kitchen, dusting flour off her hands. “I’m here to discuss the partnership agreement with you.”
“Great. Let me just take a second to clean up.”
She washed her hands and then met him out at the table. This was very reminiscent of her meeting with Tony, even to Kenny bringing out coffee and mugs.
“So, I understand you’ll be making my wedding cake,” Logan said, his eyes twinkling.
“Yes, I will. I can’t wait.” Quinn tried to keep the nerves out of her voice, and was only a little bit successful. She was about to sign the papers that would ensure her career for the rest of her life, hopefully. She remembered Laurie telling her that she’d signed an agreement with Millie to take over the bridal shop. That wasn’t quite the same thing, but close enough, and she wondered if Laurie had been this nervous.
Just Desserts (Main Street Merchants Book 4) Page 10