Page 8 of Icing on the Cake

Eisley’s eyes widen, raising her brows high on her forehead. She bites her bottom lip and looks around without so much as moving a hair on her head. Her eyes fall on Tom and Grace, two lovebirds oblivious to the wrench we’re about to throw into their plans.

“Can the service send someone else out?” Surely, someone’s on call.

“No.” The wedding planner checks her list. “It’s too late. They’ll miss their flight if we don’t stay on schedule.”

“What about Kent?” Any hope of coffee or something extra with Eisley tonight begins to dwindle as soon as the woman shakes her head.

“Nope. He’s having a discussion,” she enunciates the word disapprovingly, “with one of the bridesmaids. She’s quite upset with him.”

“I’ll do it.” My shoulders sink, but duty before pleasure. I can’t let friends down on their wedding day, even if that means I’ll miss another opportunity with Eisley.

“It’s okay. We’re here to save the day, right?” Eisley squeezes my arm and then gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “It’s been a long day, and I need to pack up my things anyway.”

“Thanks for being so understanding.” I manage a smile but no longer feel as festive or hopeful as I did moments ago.

We exchange phones and type in our respective numbers as the wedding planner impatiently taps her pen on the clipboard. My phone buzzes and lights up with a text from a new number labeled Nice Buns. I swipe for the text and chuckle.

Wanted to make sure you remembered me. – Eisley

How could I ever forget?

CHAPTER 6

***

Eisley

Town Hall buzzes with energy as small business owners gather to discuss the newest glitch in keeping businesses like mine alive and growing. I’m heartened to see so many turn out. We need community involvement and those willing to speak up for what’s right. Goodness knows I’d crumple into a blubbering mess if I had to address the room myself. I’m not a fighter, but I will support those better suited to address the crowd. My stomach’s already a torrent of butterflies swooping and fluttering their wings. I haven’t been this nervous since Beau and I danced the night away at Grace and Tom’s wedding.

Funny how the right client at the right time can change the trajectory of a person’s life, for better or worse. If it weren’t for friends of friends and former clients spreading the word about my business, I wouldn’t have met Grace or run into Beau again. Our paths might never have crossed. But they did, and I’m over the moon about it.

I double-check the agenda for the night’s meeting. Usually, I’m not one to get involved in politics and mundane laws that keep a town running, but tonight’s agenda affects me personally. I’ve always said that busybody baking police and overachieving negative reviewers are the bane of every small business barely scraping by. Tonight, cottage businesses like mine are on the chopping block.

Home businesses are held to the same standard as restaurant kitchens. Health inspectors drop by for surprise inspections. My kitchen is subject to the same white-glove scrutiny as the burger joint on Fifth and Main. But my license has more limitations. I can participate in farmer’s markets and pop-up stands, but I can’t set up a lemonade stand and sell muffins or eclairs. But I can cater, deliver, and bake to my heart’s content.

Chatter becomes louder as the room fills with concerned citizens from both sides of the issue. Hope and Sage from Hot Mess Catering and Dessert First crowd into the seats beside me. They started like me, doing business in their cramped kitchens until they gathered enough funds for a commercial space.

“Looks like a full turnout.” Sage tucks her purse under her seat and glances around the room. “Let’s give ‘em hell, ladies.”

“We should hear everyone out before we make snap judgments,” Hope says. “There’s room for everyone at the table, and everyone’s voice needs to be heard.”

I know she’s right, but I’m protective of the mom-and-pop start-ups and starry-eyed dreamers whose only goal is to bring others happiness while doing something they love. Without the cottage industry clause, we’re sunk before we set sail.

“Ever the voice of reason.” Sage snickers. “How’d the wedding on Saturday go?”

“It was wonderful. I can’t thank you two enough for recommending me for the job.” A brief moment of sheer pleasure rips through the anxiousness currently turning my tummy upside down. “There was a near mishap with the cake, but everything worked out.” I giggle nervously and whisper, “I met someone.”

“Oh, do tell.” Hope’s eyes brighten, and Sage scoots forward in her chair.

“His name is Beau, and he’s a friend of the bride and groom.” My cheeks heat and heart pitter-patters at the thought of Beau, his kisses, and how he held me in his arms as we danced.” I glance around before saying anything more. “And get this. He loves to cook and bake. Owns his own restaurant. Can you believe it?”

“Take that man out of the dating pool ASAP.” Sage grins from ear to ear. “You are seeing him again, aren’t you?”

Beau asked me to stay until the reception ended so we could grab a coffee and chat, but that all fell apart at the last minute. It was a little chaotic as Grace and Tom took off from the reception. The limo driver arrived drunk, and the best man and one of the bridesmaids were having a spat. Beau jumped in to save the day and took the limo driver’s spot. We exchanged numbers, but there wasn’t time to make plans beyond that.

But I’m not worried. The whole night was like a fairytale dream come true.

“I think so, but–” a gavel interrupts our conversation.

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