Why wasn’t she burning me alive?
Virginia tipped her head at me from several feet away, where she’d stopped, presumably giving me room. “This isn’t an ambush. I promise.”
I darted my gaze around the foyer and dining room, where guests had taken notice of our interaction. If this wasn’t an ambush, then what the hell did she call it?
“When I realized you were the woman behind the Invisible Baker,” she continued, “I had to speak to you again. I couldn’t help myself.”
I caught Lucas’s eyes and sighed. This wasn’t the way I wanted to tell him, but I was done lying and hiding. I tented my brows in apology. I hoped he could see the regret in my expression. He deserved better than this. I sent up silent prayers that whatever came next wouldn’t negatively impact his current business or plans for expansion. I couldn’t bear to cause damage to his dreams or livelihood in any way. I couldn’t live with that, and I had no idea how to fix things.
“How did you know?” I asked Virginia. Where had I gone wrong?
Her smile softened. “Occam’s razor,” she said, though her tone made the answer sound more like a question. “The simplest answer is usually the right one. Chez Margot hired a new pastry chef, who has everyone raving about desserts that were on the menu years before she showed up. Then they contracted a new company to provide grab-and-go pastries a few days later. It was suspicious.”
My heart sank. She was right, and I was a failure at subterfuge.
“I asked around a little,” she said, “and I learned you were new to town, following a recent move. I plugged your name into county auditor sites until I found two homes listed with your name. One is a few blocks away; the other is in an elite location a couple of towns over. Jealous of that zip code, by the way.”
She spoke into the phone again, recording herself. “I talked to folks in the school pickup lines in your old district, and a whole lot of those parents seemed to know exactly who I was talking about when I mentioned the Invisible Baker. But they wouldn’t say a word.” Her eyes gleamed. “When I asked the same questions to parents in my home district, they looked at me as if I had two heads. The whole thing seemed very community coded. So I took to the internet.” She lowered the phone and offered me a self-deprecating grin. “I plugged the LLC name into the state’s business website and found all your contact information, but that’s a less interesting story.”
I laughed. “It is,” I agreed.
A woman in pink approached with a business card from the bakery display case. “Will you sign this for me?”
I made a silly face. “What?”
Virginia raised her phone to film.
The woman passed me the card and a Sharpie. “We’re all here because we appreciate you so much. Even if you can’t completely save us from the judgy moms at our schools, the fact that you’re out there, helping us and other moms get by, is everything.”
I accepted the pen and card, then took longer, slower looks at their faces. I recognized two of the five.
“Your company restores our faith in people,” another woman said. “And it reminds us that we all need to do better for one another.”
My eyes blurred with sudden, unshed tears. I set the card on my box and signed the card as the first drops fell. I returned the card. “Thank you for saying that, but I was just trying to help.” And make a little money doing what I loved.
I spotted Lucas watching from a distance. “I’m sorry I lied to you,” I said.
He moved slowly forward, a heartbroken expression pinned to mine.
Virginia panned her phone from me to him and back, but I only cared about making amends with my new boss and friend.
“I wanted to tell you,” I vowed. “I just—couldn’t.”
“I know,” he said. “I understand.”
Virginia rolled her eyes at her phone. “Sophie’s boss tried to distract me with a story about a retired man baking for stressed-out moms. No one bought that, but good try,” she teased.
Lucas blushed.
“You already knew?” I guessed.
Of course he did. Why else would he make up a story?
He ran a hand through his thick dark hair and averted his gaze.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded. I’d been sick over my lie when he’d known all along.
“You didn’t want me to know,” he said. “And it wasn’t any of my business. I knew you had your reasons. I stopped placing orders to give this time to simmer down, but”—he motioned to the group of women in pink, then to Virginia—“it didn’t help. I’m sorry this is happening. You should’ve been able to choose when, or if, you made this public. I tried telling them that. I’ve spent the last few days trying to reason with the unreasonable.”
