Page 31 of A Gingerbread Romance

Abby recounted a week’s worth of drama at the office as Greta listened and offered her opinions. Finally, they were both ready to say goodnight.

“Okay, well, keep me posted,” said Abby. “I think you should call him tomorrow; give him the benefit of the doubt and act like it didn’t happen. Maybe he really did just need to clear his head.”

“You’re probably right. I’ll do that,” said Greta.

TEN

Sunday came and went in a flurry of activity as customers bought up almost everything they’d baked for the day. It might’ve been the promise of winning the gingerbread house in the window, or it might’ve been all the promoting Greta had been doing on social media, or it might’ve just been that the weekend before Christmas meant a busier store than usual. But whatever the case, sales had been fantastic. Greta hadn’t had the time to text or call Jonathan until after they’d closed at four.

When she did, he didn’t answer, so she left a message, but instead of returning her call, he texted back.

Hanging out at my brother Luke’s house today. His wife, Chloe, is going to stop in to your store on Tuesday to talk with you about running your coffee shop.

It sounded as though he couldn’t—or didn’t want to—talk. She texted back.

Sounds good. Thanks. I’m looking forward to meeting her.

Straightforward and simple, right? And he hadn’t forgotten about setting her up to talk shop with his sister-in-law. Okay, but was it odd that he had no time for her?

She mulled it over as she took out a towel and began wiping down the counters, spraying a cleanser as she went. Was it also odd that he hadn’t added any sort of personal message in his text?

She sighed.

No, she shouldn’t be concerned. He was fine again, most likely, if he was spending time with family. She should put last night’s incident out of her mind. It had nothing to do with her. He’d made that clear.

And they weren’t dating, after all. He didn’t have to call or talk to her every day.

Greta frowned, her spirits falling.I still wish things were different between us.His words. And she’d turned him down. Why was she beginning to regret it?

Greta went about the rest of her day as usual, pretending it didn’t bother her that she hadn’t actually spoken to Jonathan since Saturday evening.

On Monday, two coffee makers and a commercial-grade espresso maker were delivered along with a shipment of fresh-roasted beans and dry goods.

And that afternoon, Henry Berg stopped in to check on the store’s progress. It was nice to see his friendly face peeking in through the door as he opened it. She was excited to show him everything they’d been working on. Greta walked out from behind the counter to greet him as the bells on the door jingled overhead.

“Wow, things are looking great in here,” he said, and she could tell how pleased he was, offering her a quick hug before he returned his gaze to the tables and chairs and the new buffet, set with paper goods. He glanced at the steady stream of customers being served by the other clerks behind the counter. “You’re making really great progress, aren’t you?”

“Yes, we are! Thanks,” Greta said. “But we couldn’t have done it without you.”

He smiled, catching her eye, and she explained what was happening with the coffee shop, which hadn’t officially opened yet, but would be soon, once everything was in place.

She walked Berg to the back and showed him how they’d implemented some of the other changes he’d asked her to make, including the prices she’d raised.

After a short meeting to go over the store’s sales numbers, he promised to stop back after Christmas, which was only three days away, to go over some ideas he had for the winter. “I’m so encouraged by your progress,” he said. “Your month has gone even better than I’d projected. Great job, Greta.” He offered her a firm handshake.

She smiled. “My team’s been hard at work.”

Berg’s services had been well worth the expense, whatever they’d cost. She might even call him a friend at this point if she saw him around, with as many ways in which he’d helped her, even though he’d been paid to do so. Regardless, Jean would be pleased. Greta was eager to discuss it with her.

“Merry Christmas, Berg,” she said as he headed for the door. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Merry Christmas, Greta!”

A few minutes later, Judy peeked her head out of the kitchen, wiping her fingers on her apron. “Hey boss,” she said sweetly, “this was dropped off for you while you were meeting with Berg.” Judy handed her a letter. The corner of the envelope was marked with the LLC owned by Brett and Elaine.

Greta frowned, tearing it open carefully. Uh-oh. It was probably about the rent.

“Was it Jonathan who delivered it?”

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