Page 13 of A Gingerbread Romance

He listened to Elaine congratulate him on a great presentation. The pit in his stomach grew.

He had to get to Greta. He had to explain. Had she assumed he’d known thatherstore was involved all along before this morning? She must have.

But he hadn’t known. He’d never have allowed her to be surprised by something like this. Only a first-rate jerk would do that.

No, last night, he’d never guessed that her bakery was the bakery to which he’d bear such unsettling news this morning.

He silently berated himself for not being more thorough with his research.

But he couldn’t go after her. Brett and Elaine would have seen it and wondered what sort of personal matter was at stake, which might have jeopardized the deal in the long run. And his boss was relying on the money and future work expected to come from Jonathan sealing this deal. It was a lot of money.

So, he’d let her walk away. What choice did he have?

But he’d call her the first moment he could. He’d explain. He’d make her see.

And besides, no concrete plans had been formed yet regarding the details of Greta’s building, so she didn’t have to panic. Not yet, at least.

Jonathan only hoped she’d listen.

“Jonathan?” It was Brett. “Could I have a word with you?” The others had left the conference room.

“Sure, Brett.” Jonathan scratched a hand to the back of his head, distracted. “What’s up?”

“I noticed the tenants in the other building seemed quite upset about the changes.” Brett crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Well, that was an understatement. Jonathan held back an irritable sigh.

“I trust this won’t be a problem for us? I’d hate to start off on the wrong foot.”

Start off on the wrong foot? That meant he wasn’t going to go easy on anyone or make special arrangements or exceptions. Jonathan had seen this look before.

Jonathan nodded, then shook when Brett pushed his hand in front of him. “I’m sure it won’t be a problem, Brett. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

* * *

Greta’s phonebuzzed in the pocket of her apron as she wiped down the bakery counter’s glass cases half an hour before closing. Sometimes, just helping with the busywork around the store and in the kitchen helped to clear her thoughts. And she sure needed help with that today.

She pulled the phone out, saw that it was Jonathan again, and declined the call.

It was the third time since this morning. She shoved the phone back into her pocket.

She’d hoped it would be Jean calling, but she knew it wouldn’t. They’d already spoken. Jean’s tour group was now enjoying the sights and sounds of the North Carolina coast. They’d visited Kitty Hawk and would spend the next day and night in Nag’s Head.

Upsetting her grandmother while on vacation had been the last thing Greta had wanted to do, but Jean needed to know what was going on.

And so, she’d explained, but then Jean had barely batted an eye.Nothing’s written in stone yet, Greta.Then she’d told Greta not to let them push her around.

Jean was a feisty one who didn’t take much from anyone. Greta wished she were here to help with this, but she wasn’t, and she’d assured Greta that the bakery would survive this. They’d survived much worse, she’d said.

Greta sighed and went behind the counter. A notification signaled that someone had left her a voicemail.

She stared at it. Jonathan. Nothing he could say was going to fix this. The sting of betrayal—from someone she’d just met, no less—was surprisingly bitter. She tapped at the message without listening and hit the red button. Delete.

Hours later, Greta sat on the sofa under a blanket next to the fireplace as it crackled and sighed, going over the bakery’s books on her laptop. It was another cold, typical December evening, and she’d changed into sweats and turned on the gas fireplace to heat the living room. The gas fireplace was a feature her grandmother had paid to install a few years back when she and Greta were finally through with lugging firewood in from the porch.

Now, all it took to enjoy a blaze from the hearth was a turn of a key in the wall. Greta used it most evenings during the winter. It was a lot cheaper than running the central heating on full blast in the evening.

She looked up from the screen and stared wistfully into the fire. If only things were different. She’d really enjoyed last night with Jonathan. It was such a shame. Just her luck.

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