Her levelheaded question made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I didn’t want logic and reason. I wanted wrath and vengeance. “I feel like I should do some recon first. Get all my ducks in a row. It might be a bar rumor, nothing else.”
“Well, there are a lot of those flying around.” I could hear the smile in her voice. She knew all about our longstanding drama with half-baked rumors. For such a small staff, miscommunication was a serious problem.
“It came from Ada, though. She’s ultra-reliable.”
Claire hummed. “Ada is the best.”
“Ugh, what am I supposed to do with this, Claire? I can handle Will being an asshole daily. But this seems excessive even for him.”
“Okay, but why? What are you afraid of? Will moving on in his life without you? Or Will not asking your permission first?”
Her questions were hard to answer, and I frankly didn’t want to think them through. “Gosh, Claire, why you gotta do that?” I whined, sounding much like the kindergartners she left behind. “It’s not like that. I’m pissed because he’s going behind my back and taking something that is ours and ruining it.”
Her tone was gentle. “Allegedly.”
“Allegedly,” I snarled.
“You don’t know anything for sure yet. I’m just saying, you might want to examine this from all angles before you start fires you can’t put out.”
This was why I called her. I knew she could talk me off the edge. While my mind whirled and spun and came up with all kinds of far-fetched scenarios that were too impossible to ever come true, she reminded me of rational reality. Just because I had strong feelings didn’t mean I was always right. “I know you love this whole pastry gig, but have you ever thought of becoming a therapist?”
She laughed again. “Yeah, not sure I’m loving this pastry gig anyway. Maybe third time’s a charm.”
“You’ll get it,” I encouraged gently. “You’re the smartest person I know. If you can master croissants and puff pastry, I’m positive you can handle cake design.”
She growled. “I’m not so sure.”
It was my turn to laugh. “Says the woman who showed up with fruit tartlets that literally changed my life last week.” Having a pastry chef best friend who needed people to taste test her recipes had its benefits.
“You’re exaggerating,” she said with her usual self-deprecation. “I still don’t have the pastry exactly right, and I shouldn’t have used the apricots.”
“Stop,” I ordered, an uncharacteristic snap in my voice. But honestly, a girl could only take so much of her best girl not seeing herself properly. “The apricot was epic. And the pastry literally melted in my mouth. When can we do it again?”
She gave in to my boss-girl vibes. “I have cakes coming out the wazoo. How about I bring one over tomorrow night, and we get sugared up and drunk while we figure out what it would take for you to open your own bar?”
I smiled at her belief in me. “Let’s open one together. Half bar. Half bakery. We could share our affinity for cake and whiskey with the world.”
She gasped. “That’s genius! Bakeries are always aligned with coffee shops. Which is fine, but a bar and bakery? Revolutionary.”
Now I was really smiling. The day's stress had faded into the bliss of knowing this girl had my back. “That’s right. A whiskey and cake revolution. But I can’t tomorrow night. Jonah’s taking me to dinner.”
“Ah.”
“Do you want to come? He’s buying.”
She made a sound in the back of her throat. “And be a third wheel? No thanks.”
“You know we’re just friends.”
She made the sound again. “I know he thinks his friendship with you is superior to my friendship with you. He’s not into me hanging around, Eliza. He’s very territorial.”
Not wanting to get into it with Claire again over Jonah’s moodiness, I said, “What about Sunday?”
“Sunday’s good,” she agreed quickly. “It will give me time to perfect my sponge and get the currant cream just right.”
She was speaking another language now. “It’s a date then.”
“It’s a date,” she agreed. “Have fun with Jonah.”
