Peter swung his gaze to meet hers again. “You don’t seem worried about a bakery going in across the street.”
“I’m not,” she said, biting off her words. “He only offers bread. I offer so much more.”
Peter raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure that nice little bakery in Bar Harbor offered much more than bread too. That didn’t stop Bradford Breads from putting them out of business last summer. Right in the middle of tourist season.”
Claire frowned. Was that true? Would that happen to her? No, she had her cupcake sale, and she and Rob were working together. This was just the sort of thing Peter would make up to upset her. Well, it wasn’t going to work this time.
Sandee, turned away and tapping her chin with a long, ruby-colored fake nail as she peered through the glass at the baked goods on display, chimed in absently, “I heard that owner in Bar Harbor didn’t see it coming. I guess the Bradford Breads owner was as sweet as pie to him.” She straightened, gestured at the chocolate croissants, and held up two fingers to Hailey, who had just come out from the kitchen.
Claire didn’t say a word. They were only trying to get under her skin.
With a bright smile, Sandee settled into the crook of Peter’s arm. “If you ask me, I think the owner probably acts nice while he puzzles out what makes a bakery so successful. Then he emulates it and cuts into their business by doing more advertising. He can afford it with a big chain like that.”
Claire swallowed hard, trying to keep her expression confident. She was afraid she failed miserably.
Fortunately, Sandee and Peter weren’t looking at her. They were too preoccupied, staring across the street.
Sandee mused, “I have to admit, it’s brilliant the way he’s got the shades down. It really makes you wonder what it looks like inside.” She turned and leaned forward, delicately glossing her fingers over Claire’s shoulder. “Not that it will be able to compete with Sandcastles. You have a knack for decorating. I’m sure nothing Bradford Breads can come up with will compare.”
“Thank you,” Claire muttered, but it was through gritted teeth and a forced smile.
Had she handed her best decorating tips directly into the hands of the enemy?
“Your croissants?” Hailey prompted from behind the counter. Judging by the look on her face, she didn’t approve of the way the conversation was going. Claire imagined she was trying to push Sandee and Peter out of the store as quickly as possible. Sandee tugged Peter toward the register to pay for them, buying Claire some time to compose herself.
She found herself staring at the shaded windows of the shop across the street and kicking herself. Had she fallen for the exact game that Sandee and Peter had warned her about? Rob had been nice to her, had helped her, and now his windows were shaded, and he might be rearranging his shop last-minute to draw her customers away. Why hadn’t she known about Bar Harbor? Why hadn’t she done more research before she trusted the owner of a rival bakery?
The fact that her ex-husband and his wife were the ones to throw this in her face was adding insult to injury. Sick to her stomach, Claire tore herself away from the sight of the other shop.
See what happens when you try to be nice? When you trust others?She should have learned her lesson from her marriage. She stormed over and ripped apart the display she’d put together, returning the two tables to the way they had been previously.
How stupid could she be, agreeing to work with a man who was going to undermine her and put her out of business?
She tucked the wicker baskets under her arm and was about to stow them back in the kitchen when a tourist emerged from the washroom. He searched the shop, and upon seeing her fiddling with the chairs, he made a beeline for her. She straightened, ready to greet the customer despite how drained she was.
“Uh, ma’am? The water pressure in the bathroom is a little low. I thought you’d want to know.”
She pressed her lips together as her heart raced. She set the wicker baskets on top of the display case.Calm, slow movements.She wasn’t panicking.
How could the water pressure be low? They repaired the pipes last night. Her eyes flicked to the store across the street. Had Rob really fixed them, or had he done something to sabotage her so she wouldn’t be open tomorrow for the cupcake sale?
Claire was tense as she slipped into the public washroom and turned on the tap. Water poured out in a slow stream, but it appeared to be working. The toilet flushed, taking a long time to fill up again. She checked under the sink for a leak but found none. Everythingseemedto be okay, but did the low water pressure indicate some catastrophe was lurking?
Maybe she should call Sally, just in case.
Chapter Nineteen
Jane had a thousand and one things to do to keep the inn running smoothly, but most of her time was spent checking that her mother hadn’t removed her slippers and bandages. Her feet were still raw and cut up from her escapade on the beach, and her nurse friend had said they would be for another week at least. She would have thought that would keep Addie out of trouble because it made her less likely to walk away.
Not so.
It was only just after noon, but Addie was sleeping now, curled up on her bed with a blanket thrown over her shoulders and her feet peeking out from the bottom edge. The slippers were still on, and the socks and bandages underneath. She looked so peaceful while asleep, even though the lines etched into her face had appeared to deepen over the span of just a few months. She was aging so fast, right in front of Jane, and she didn’t know what to do. She loved her mother. All she wanted was to keep her safe and happy.
But doing this, running after Addie to make sure she was still in the inn or hadn’t left a dangerous appliance running or kicked off her shoes, made Jane feel like the mother rather than the child.
Softly, she closed the door and sighed. What was she going to do?
She wasn’t about to ask her sister for help. Andie had left after high school and seemingly didn’t care what happened back in Lobster Bay. Sure, she’d tried to be a comfort when Jane’s son had died, and again when her husband, Brad, had died. But Jane could always tell that Andie couldn’t wait to get back to her fancy life in New York City. She’d kept Andie apprised of their mother’s condition but had glossed over how bad it was. What would be the point of going into details?
