Page 3 of Their Sweet Haven
“Miss Lee, I’m going to have to shut this bakery down. An egregious health code violation and then lying to an inspector? That can’t stand.”
“What? Lying? Because I told you that eggs and chicken breast have different culinary purposes?”
“You lied to me, and that’s what matters.”
Fred pushes past me and walks to the front door. He cuts off a potential customer by slapping a sticker on my window. ‘Closed due to Critical Health Code Violations’.
It’s a devastating thing to see as a small business owner.
“Wow, now I know why your brownies taste so much like eggs,” Henry says as he watches it all happen. “Because you don’t bake anything right. It’s a good thing I’m here to save this town from having no decent bakery.”
The smug grin on Henry’s face as he followed Fred out the door.
Something stunk.
And not just that nasty ass chicken breast.
“Um, does this mean I’m fired?” Melanie says, sheepishly.
“No,” I say. “This is nonsense. I’m taking this right to the county seat. This is all happening way too fast, and way too conveniently for Henry there.”
Lavender raised an eyebrow, deep in thought. “Why don’t we sell something with chicken? I think we could do a really tasty chicken bake. They’d go gangbusters.”
I shake my head. “I appreciate the idea and the enthusiasm, Lavender. Really. But now? Not the time.”
She shrugs. “Sorry.”
I take off and hang up my apron, grab my car keys, and call out instructions to my employees. “Close up the shop. Put everything away. Follow the rules. Just because someone is trying to use them against us doesn’t mean they’re bad rules.”
“Will do, Miss Lee,” Melanie says, saluting me.
“Don’t do that. And it’s Hannah, as I’ve told you for the fourteenth time.”
The County seat is a bit of a hike from where I am, and I am in for a long drive. I usually wouldn’t make such a trip ona whim, but for SOME REASON, I didn’t have a bakery to run today, so it all kind of works out.
TWO
elias
“Bad news,champ, the governor canceled on us.”
I am absolutely devastated. I’m rolling on the floor in the fetal position to have heard such apocalyptic news, tears streaming from my eyes, all my hopes and dreams crushed into a fine paste.
That’s likely what my father thinks my response will be.
In reality?
I sip my coffee. I keep looking out the window. It’s a beautiful clear day. It’s going to make for a marvelous sunset.
“What a shame, pops. Did you still want to do dinner? The reservation remains.”
“Nah. I had a back up golf game to go to. Do me a favor and cancel it for me. Come join me on the course if you want.”
“You know I’ve never been one for the links, Dad.”
“You should. It’s how people network.”
“People do something called pickleball these days. Golf is old news.”
