Page 14 of Sweet Rivals

“No!” Cat said, closing the gap between us and wrapping her arms around me. “The dream is not over! There are endless opportunities.”

“Like what? How many bakeries can one small beach town accommodate? There’s already the diner and the pancake house and the coffee shop,” I said as the tears finally spilled over.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. We will figure it out,” Cat said, but the words felt so damn empty right then. It wasn’t her fault. It just felt like my dream, the only thing keeping me going, lay shattered at my feet.

The light caught movement inside the building.

“Shit!” I shouted, grabbing at Cat’s arm where it still hugged me. “We have to hide!” I pulled her arm hard and ducked behind the large metal trash cans that lined the boardwalk.

“Um, Jenna, what are we doing?” she asked.

“Shhhh,” I hissed, putting my finger to my lips. “I can’t face them yet.”

“Who?”

“Whoever stole my bakery,” I said.

Cat had the good sense not to argue that it wasn’t my bakery. She understood that it was mine in spirit.

I peeked through the small crack between the garbage cans. Cat shifted so she could see through the crack too, and we watched the bakery, Scooby-Doo style. I felt like I was in one of the horror movies I had been watching lately as the door swung open painfully slow to reveal the killer—of my dreams. The shadowy figure stepped out into the light, and I gasped before I clamped my mouth shut.

He didn’t seem to hear me as he put on a pair of sunglasses to complete his far too casual attire of shorts and a t-shirt before heading off down the boardwalk.

“What the fuck!” I shouted when he was out of sight and earshot. I stood up, sucking in a deep breath to cleanse my nostrils of the noxious trash odor. Cat stood, brushing the dirt off her jeans.

“Was that?” she began.

“Jared Wallace! The nerve of that asshole. I should have known,” I talked through gritted teeth.

“Oh shit,” she said.

“He owns like twenty restaurants or something. Why the hell does he need another one? Here, of all places. What a goddamn asshole.”

“Are you sure he is opening one of his chains?”

“I am going to ruin him,” I said, ignoring Cat’s question.

“Wow,” Cat said. “Going full psycho. I like it.”

“I will not stand for him turning Cape Shore into his bullshit pet project or starting another cookie cutter bakery with no style or personality. There is no way he is shitting on my dream that thoroughly,” I said. I started pacing while we talked.

Cat stood a safe distance away, arms folded over her chest, assessing me with wide eyes. “I’m not sure if I should be worried or excited about this new Jenna.”

“You know what, Cat, that is the problem. I have given and given and given and never once asked for anything in return. I’ve busted my ass for everyone else but myself, making sensible practical choices, waiting patiently for my turn. Then this silver spoon, nepo-baby asshole shows up without knowing a damn thing about Cape Shore and acts like he owns the place. He has ruined everything. Everything.” I was shouting again.

“Jenna, I know you are upset, but maybe let’s take a minute. We can grab a coffee and talk about it,” she said. I must have been pretty far gone, if Cat was being the reasonable one.

“I’ll sneak in and put laxatives in all his ingredients,” I said.

“I love it except for the part where you would go to jail,” she said with a laugh. She grabbed my elbow gently and started guiding me along.

“I’ll call the newspaper and tell them he stole all his recipes from a poor old lady. I’ll call the police and tell them he embezzled money.”

“I am all for a revenge plot, but I think we need to work on the specifics,” Cat said, still guiding me down the boardwalk. “Let’s grab some coffee.”

“I have to go to work,” I said, coming out of my blind rage long enough to remember my responsibilities.

“You’re going in late. You cannot show up in this homicidal state. You need sugar and caffeine and your best friend,” she said.

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