Page 17 of Resisting the Grump

She beamed at me. “I know!”

I bumped my shoulder against hers. “Proud of you.”

She stared at the star-shaped plaque, no doubt thinking all the sleepless nights had been worth it. “I just wish I was going to be here to see the customers’ faces when they notice it.”

“It’s not too late to change the plan,” I said. “If you need me to take one for the team, I’m happy to go to Paris with Noah. I’m sure he’d be disappointed, but they say absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Nice try,” she said, shooting me a sidelong glance. “Rumor has it the Eiffel Tower is even more impressive than a Star Baker award.

I laughed. “That’s a pretty hefty claim.”

She slipped her phone from her pocket to check the time.

“I’m sure he’ll be here any minute,” I said, leading the way back inside.

“Do you want to go over the pie recipe one more time?”

“Only if it will make you feel better,” I said, holding the door for her. Though, frankly, I was a little nervous about being entrusted to make her winning pie, especially since people would be going out of their way to swing by and try it. But if I couldn’t get it right without supervision, plan B was to put a small sold-out sign on the pie tray. After all, no one would be surprised if the winning pie proved tricky to get.

She stared at the one in the cake stand beside the register. “I’m just worried about the finicky crust.”

“Don’t be,” I said. “The instructions you put together are offensively thorough. If I can’t get it right, I’m sure I can find a four-year-old in the street who reads good to help me.”

She scowled. “This is important, Avery.”

“Filling me with confidence before you hand me the reins is what’s important right now,” I said, hoping she could sense my sincerity. I mean, I was doing a good job acting casual, but running this place on my own wasn’t a small responsibility. This bakery was the literal bread maker and breadwinner for Grace’s family, and it had never garnered more attention.

“Did you put the browning key somewhere safe?”

I patted the pocket of my short apron. “It will be on me at all times.”

Her delicate jaw relaxed as she expressed her relief with a nod.

“And I have to hand it to you, it was a clever idea.”

Her dimples deepened with her smile. “It was Noah’s idea, actually. He has loads of little cards like that for when he’s talking to people who are interested in tooth whitening procedures.”

“Well, it was clever of you to reimagine the idea to make things easier for me.” If I were in any doubt whatsoever about how much to torch the meringue or brown the blueberry muffins, all I had to do was hold the little browning key beside the cookie or crust in question and presto, my baked goods would be the perfect shade of coffee-stained canines.

“Maybe I’d feel better if you were freaking out more.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t,” I said. “Besides, you have nothing to worry about. Not only do I know how much this place means to you, but my pride is on the line. So I’m not going to screw this up.”

“I know you’re not.” Grace’s eyes scanned the bakery like she was worried she might forget what it looked like. “It’s just… It’s a long time for me to be away.”

“It’s five days, Grace. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Her eyes doubled in size.

“Don’t answer that,” I blurted quickly. “In fact, don’t even think about that.”

Noah pulled up outside and honked twice before waving.

I grabbed Grace’s carry-on and followed her and her rolling suitcase out the door while Noah flicked his emergency blinkers on and hopped out to load the car.

“You’re late!” Grace said.

“You hung the plaque,” he said, tossing her suitcase in the trunk. “It looks amazing!”

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