Maxi nodded. “Okay. Sounds like you have a good plan for that. You’ll still have all your regular baking, though, so it sounds like you’ll need some help. I can pitch in.”
Claire’s heart warmed. “Thanks, but I don’t want to put you out.”
Maxi snorted. “Are you kidding? I have nothing to do. It will be fun for me.”
Jane reached out to squeeze Claire’s arm. “I can help, too, but Saturday is less than a week away. Are you sure this isn’t too much?”
“No. Well, it’s going to take some work, but Tammi said I should be advertising and having sales anyway, so I guess this is a good start.” Claire slurped down a hefty portion of her drink.
“Well then, if you’re sure, we’re here to help.” Jane raised her glass, and they all clinked.
Claire settled back in her seat, happy for their support, but the look that Maxi and Jane exchanged brought on a load of self-doubt. Had she bitten off more than she could chew?Wasshe overreacting?
Maxi picked up the appetizer menu. “Does anyone want to split some apps? I’m starving.”
Chapter Seven
Claire’s phone alarm chimed at four o’clock every morning. In the old days, before she owned a bakery and had to rise early to get things setup before she opened at eight o’clock, she had loved to lounge in bed. Of course, that was also before she had Urchin, the fifteen-pound cat that was now sitting on her chest, staring at her with half-slitted, reproachful eyes in an attempt to will her to his food bowl.
Claire felt for the phone, turned off the alarm, and rolled over. Urchin, not to be dissuaded from his task, climbed onto her head and batted at her nose with one paw, claws sheathed.
“Get off,” she groaned. “I can’t feed you while you’re weighing me down.”
She pushed the black-and-white cat off, and he thudded onto the floor then looked up at her expectantly.
“Yes, I’m coming.” Claire slid her bare feet onto the thick area rug beside the bed and rolled her neck a few times to get the kinks out before standing up. Urchin trotted ahead into the kitchen.
Claire’s cottage was small, but since it was just her, it was perfect. She had everything she needed. Two bedrooms, a kitchen and living room, and a great outside area. Plus, it was only a few blocks from the beach. She couldn’t see the ocean, but on a good day, she could smell it. And if she wanted to see it, it was only a short stroll away, or she could take the pink Vespa she’d purchased to cruise around town in the summer.
Urchin insisted on being fed first, so she turned the coffee maker on then filled his bowl. He tucked in without a backward glance, and Claire fixed her coffee. Leaning against the counter, she sipped and watched Urchin eat.
Her mind raced with details of the cupcake sale. Would thirty dozen be enough? Maybe she should make forty. And what about display stands? She should order more of those five-tiered stands she used to display cupcakes when she catered parties.
She finished her coffee, watered the plants, brushed her teeth, and changed in record time. By the time she was ready to head to the bakery, Urchin had hopped up to the wide window ledge in the kitchen, which always saw the best sunlight in the morning. He was asleep, having forgotten her existence.
Sandcastles was less than a mile away, so she hopped on her Vespa and was there in no time. It was early still, and fingers of sunrise licked at the ocean horizon, casting long shadows down the quiet street. Claire inserted the key to unlock the front door of her shop then peered over her shoulder out of habit as she pulled the glass door shut behind her.
Something was different about the bread store across the street.
Fresh, new letters announced the name of the bakery in the window. The paper had been removed, and she could see inside to the aisles of shelves. At the far end was a counter and a display next to it. A gigantic poster with a golden buttery loaf of bread hung in the window announcing the two-for-one sale for the grand opening on Saturday.
That poster was eye-catching, though. It, like the block letters of the name, was done in bright red. It would draw the eye of everyone who passed up and down the street. On Saturday, there would be a line around the block of shoppers.
Well, fine then. Bradford Breads wasn’t the only one who could order a poster.
“You are not going to out-market me.” She didn’t care if Bradford Breads had more money to take out ads and make gorgeous signs picturing loaves of bread slathered with butter that made even her mouth water. Claire could do one better.
She ducked inside and pulled the door shut.
The sound of a drill made her jump. She’d given Sally a key so she could let herself in early in the morning if she had repairs and didn’t want to get underfoot once the bakery was open.
The handywoman stood on a step stool, wearing her usual uniform of worn overalls. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and she had a look of concentration on her face as she placed a screw into the hinge of a cabinet where the door had come loose. When she swung it easily back and forth, testing the movement, it was obvious she had already fixed the hinge.
Claire smiled. “Good morning, Sally. You’re here early.”
“Ayuh. I figured I’d fix this up and get out of your way before you start the day. I heard about the sale. Lots to do, I’m sure.”
“There is, but I’ve got a handle on it.”
