Page 10 of Already Home

She laughed. “Don’t you start with me.”

“Why not? I plan to finish with you.”

He bent his head and kissed her.

* * *

Jenna stood in the center of her store and listened tothe sound of silence.

Upbeat background music—something perky and Italian—playedthrough speakers, but there wasn’t any conversation. No talking at all. Probablybecause to have the spoken word required people. Aka customers. And thereweren’t any.

It was eleven-fifteen on her first morning. She’d been open forseventy-five minutes and not a single person had walked through her sparklingclean glass doors.

Less than two weeks ago she’d stood in her parking lot and hadwatched as her sign had been lowered into place. She’d filled every shelf,figured out how to work the cash register, had talked to an accountant aboutkeeping track of the sales. A problem she didn’t currently have.

Happy birthday to me, she thoughtsadly as she adjusted her white chef’s coat. And hey, now she was thirty-two.This wasn’t exactly how she wanted to spend her birthday. Talk about adisaster.

She’d been so sure that people would come. That they would beenticed by the pretty store window displays and the promise of great kitchensupplies. Over the past week Violet had casually mentioned taking out an ad inthe local paper or getting a flyer into some kind of mailer. But Jenna hadblithely refused. Because she’d been so damn sure.

She had the sudden need to bake. To sink her fingers into warmdough, to smell yeast and create crusty rolls slathered with sweet butter. Ormaybe a tart. Quiche with a flaky crust and filling of eggs, cheese and garlicand nuts.

Or a brisket. She was back in Texas now. Somethingfalling-apart tender with tang and spice. Grilled potatoes that tasted likeheaven. She had an idea for using...

She shook her head, dislodging the wishful thinking. She didn’tdo that anymore. She cooked, she didn’t create. Hadn’t she already proved thatto herself?

Behind her she heard Violet carefully rearranging shelves in aneffort to keep busy. Jenna had to give the other woman points—so far she hadn’teven hinted she wanted to shout, “I told you so.” This despite the fact thatViolet had been pushing for some serious advertising.

Fear tasted metallic on her tongue. Every single penny she hadwas tied up in this store. She had a three-year lease and her landlord expectedmonthly payments, regardless of her failure as a businesswoman.

She spun toward Violet. “I don’t know what to do,” sheblurted.

Violet straightened from behind the shelf she’d been dusting.“Start cooking,” she said quickly. “Something snacky and delicious that I canput on a tray and carry around.”

“What good will that do? There’s no one to eat it.”

Her assistant smiled at her. “If they won’t come here, I’mgoing to take the food to them. While you’re doing that, I’ll print out couponsto hand out to everyone I see. Ten percent off. Part of our grand opening. Thatwill get people in.”

Jenna nodded and did her best not to calculate how much thatten percent would eat into her profits. Better to lose a part of something thankeep all of nothing, she told herself as she moved to the back of the store andstarted pulling out ingredients for a very familiar and easy appetizer.

A half hour later, she had a spicy goat cheese filling sittingon small crackers. She already had mushroom tarts in the oven, but they wouldtake about fifteen minutes to bake.

“The trick is the spices,” she told Violet. “Fresh is best andthey have to be chopped really fine.”

“Save the explanation for the customers,” Violet told her,grabbing one of the trays. “I put the coupons on every car windshield in afive-block radius. Hopefully that will bring people in. Now we’re going toseduce them with food.” She paused. “Are you going to be okay in here byyourself?”

“Of course,” Jenna lied. The thought of being alone withcustomers terrified her. Something she should have thought through before opening a store.

“Just offer them food and be prepared to talk recipes,” Violetsaid with a smile. “I’ll be back as soon as I’ve handed all these out.”

Jenna nodded and offered a confident smile while Violet walkedout.

While Jenna had put on black pants and her familiar chef’scoat, Violet had dressed in a straight skirt in dark purple and a multicoloredlong-sleeved blouse. Three or four necklaces filled the open collar. Thefamiliar half dozen bracelets clinked by her wrist. Her black hair was spiky,her bangs stick straight, and the smoky-eye look Beth had so admired was firmlyin place.

Of the two of them, Violet was the one who should have lookedout of place, yet Jenna felt as if everyone looking at her would know she was afraud.

Before she could beat herself up even more, the front dooropened with a tinkle of the bell Violet had hung there. But instead of herassistant returning, two women walked in. Each carried a coupon in her hand.

“Ooh, look at that,” the shorter one said to her friend. “Ilove the colors on that trivet. It would look great in your kitchen.”

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