Page 4 of You Cake My Breath Away

Archer

Present

There should be a law against requiring a person to listen to stodgy old city council members on the weekends, yet here I sit, beckoned by Mr. Brahm. After listening to the head of the council list all the reasons why I need to open the bakery, I’m ready to pull my hair out. He acts like I don’t know the historic, yet vibrant community of The Pearl is prime real estate. It’s the exact reason I chose to buy a building there.

Clamorous chatter about parking tickets thunders around the hall, and I take it as my opportunity to slip out the door and find an open bar to nurse the ache starting at the back of my head. Between managing my own employees and attending stupid meetings like this one, I almost missed the deadline to submit my application to the TV network looking for a carpenter to host a reality show.

You could be the next Ty Pennington,the agent who stumbled upon me giving a woodworking seminar my parents roped me into at the local college said. At this point, I’d sign up to become a rodeo clown if it meant getting out from under my father’s thumb.

“Wait a minute, Archer.” Mayor Stevens follows me out, stopping me with a hand on my shoulder. As much as I’d like to ignore him and keep walking, pissing off the mayor is probably not the best idea when he can make life more difficult for my businesses.

I grit my teeth and turn his way, nearly choking on the noxious scent of his Brut cologne. “What can I do for you, Mayor?”

He tilts his head, and a breeze lifts the back of his brown toupee. “We both know old man Brahm isn’t going to stop harping on you to get that location open.”

“Brahm can kiss my ass for all I care,” I reply, stretching my neck.

He sighs. “I don’t want to have to force you either, but having an empty building in the heart of The Pearl is the equivalent of a storefront in Times Square being empty. It’s bad for business.”

I throw my head back and run my tongue along my teeth, sucking in a calming breath. When I bought the building, I had big plans to expand my carpentry business. My hardware stores are already successful, and I wanted to open a woodworking shop where people can learn how to use tools to complete their own projects. But when your best friend needs a location for his wife’s bakery, sometimes you have to make sacrifices.

“I know.” I slide a hand into my pocket and ball my fist.

“I know you’ve had a rough year.” He winces.

I scoff. Losing your best friend, the man who saved your life, isn’t just aroughyear. It’s the second worst fucking year of my life. Add in the fact that I messed shit up with Tilly years ago, and it’s pouring salt in the wound.

“I can give you until the beginning of the year—”

“It’s already September,” I nearly holler before I remember who I’m speaking to. Mayor Stevens might hold a soft spot for me solely because he loved my brother Sebastian and plays golf with my father, but to the people no doubt eavesdropping on our conversation from the other side of the door, I’m sure they’d take my disrespect as another reason to oust me.

“—or else I’ll have to heavily suggest that you sell the location. Unless you want Brahm and his crew to start picketing and riling up the community even further.”

My jaw aches as I stifle the retort about where Brahm can stick his picket.

“That’s only four months away,” I reply, pushing my toes into the soles of my work boots, trying to expel the anger bubbling to the surface.

He claps me on the shoulder with a grimace on his face. “It’s been more than a year since you bought the building.”

He’s got me there. In my defense, I didn’t expect that Jessie would die just as we made the deal. Grief takes a really fucking long time to deal with. It’s been years since my brother passed, and I’m still not over it.

“Fine,” I grit out through clenched teeth.

“Thanks, son.”

We shake hands and he returns inside to listen to the rest of the town’s dilemmas while I head three streets over and stand in front of the apparently offensive vacant building. My heart thumps a wild rhythm thinking of the last time I was here, a few weeks before Jessie and Tilly’s first wedding anniversary.

I shake the memory away before it has a chance to form. I should be relaxing in my garage workshop with a cold beer in my hand and rock music blaring through the speakers, not being forced to open wounds that have barely healed.

Damp, musty wood greets me as I pry open the plywood door with calloused fingers. I step forward and am assaulted by cobwebs. Silvery webs stick to my neck as I bat the woven strands away and spit out the pieces that got inside my mouth. Ensuring no spiders are hanging around to attack, I take stock of the place.

Outside of a thick layer of dust clinging to every visible surface, the place isn’t much different than it was when I first bought it. Exposed wooden beams, a beautiful bay window, and enough space to segment the place into a café with a full kitchen in the back.

Exactly what Tilly needs to open her bakery.

A pang strikes my chest when I think of my late best friend’s wife. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen Tilly, a fact my pseudo-mother, Nora, reminds me of every time I visit her. It’s not that I don’t want to see her, but every time we’re around each other I can’t help but push her away. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism, a wall I subconsciously built when my two best friends ended up dating each other, but at this point, I’m sure I’m the last person she wants to see.

But you promised Jessie you’d help get her bakery in order.

---