“I don’t want to have this conversation over the phone,” she complains.
“Tough shit, sis, you’ll have to, because I’m not there.”
“Where are you?”
“Buying cakes.”
“Jesus Christ, Cora, you’re making no sense. I came all the way to the city—”
“You should have called,” I interrupt, before she can make me feel guilty for not being where she wants me.
She groans. “Do you have time now?” Her tone changes—more a plea than a demand.
“I can be there in half an hour.” I sigh.
Twenty minutes later, I find my sister tapping her foot in front of a place she hasn’t visited in years.
“Finally.” She straightens and turns to the entrance, waiting for me to open.
I roll my eyes. “Nice to see you too. Maybe next time don’t come unannounced.”
Fishing out the keys, I angle them to the lock and pause. My hands tremble, the air only reaches the top of my lungs, and my heart beats just a bit faster. Am I having a panic attack? It’s like my entire body rebels against me entering the place.
What’s wrong with me? This is where I belong.
I balance the box in one hand, but my quivering hand misses the hole.
“For the love of God,” Tessa mutters and pushes me to the side, snatching the keys. She waltzes inside like she owns the place.
“Why are you here, Tessa?”
She walks to the counter and drops her purse there. I put down the box and my bag on a table near the entrance.
Ignoring my questions, she walks around, running her finger on the surfaces, exploring. Or inspecting.
“Tessa?”
She finally looks at me. “I’m going toinvest in the bistro.”
For the second time today, my reaction is utterly shocking, and I laugh.
She puts her hands on her hips. “I’m serious. My family is gone. I feel lonely. I need a purpose, so I decided we will run this place together.”
And I laugh harder. When I finally catch my breath, I open the box and walk to the counter. “Have a cake.”
“You’re acting strange.” She approaches me with suspicion and looks in the box.
“I had a strange day.” I grab a plate and serve us a large slice. I take a bite.
Tessa plays with her fork, and then gives in and has a taste. “It’s delicious. We used to share a cheesecake every Sunday.”
“We did.” I smile. “So you want to work here?”
She blinks a few times. “Why not?”
“I thought you didn’t have money.”
“Paul turns out to be a generous bastard, after all.”
