Too trusting.
Taryn had heard it a million times. Her chest tightened. Guess people were right. She blew out a long breath.
Lesson learned. Even with the snow that fell this past winter, she would have been better off putting the pieces on her patio and covering them with tarps.
A trip to the dump would take care of the mess, but she’d planned on spending the morning preparing for her big build. Now, she would have to start over with only days to redo everything. At least she wouldn’t be starting from scratch. Her plans were hanging on the bulletin board in the bakery’s office.
“Might as well go to work.” The resignation in her words matched her sagging shoulders. She trudged inside.
After slathering sunscreen on her arms and face, she set off for First Avenue with its quaint boutiques, cafés, and stores lining both sides of the street.
The rising temperature didn’t stop the birds from singing in the tall maples nearby. The songs became nothing but white noise. With her mind on the booth, Taryn couldn’t enjoy the sweet melodies.
What am I going to do?
Yes, the new patio and dessert menu appeared to be a hit with customers, but the upcoming fair was the second part of her plan to turn business around and what kept her from making hard decisions—ones she didn’t want to make—about staffing needs now.
Don’t panic.
You have plenty of time.
Knowing that didn’t stop the churning in her stomach.
More than once, her father had mumbled about selling to the Summit Ridge Bakery owners since they knew what they were doing.
Unlike her had been implied.
The churning turned into a full-blown spin cycle.
It hurt knowing her dad felt that way when Taryn was doing the best she could and putting her all into the bakery. A part of her blamed Nick Baxter, a friend since high school involved with the new place. He used to come into Lawson’s all the time, but he and Robin, his wife, hadn’t been in since the other one opened.
Rumor suggested he hadn’t been a standup guy when he sold his company out from under his co-founder and fellow classmate, Brandt Winslow, but Taryn had given both friends the benefit of the doubt. Now, Nick wanted to drive her out of business. Maybe she should have sided with Brandt.
But it wasn’t only the Summit Ridge Bakery causing her grief. Her dad had voiced doubts about her abilities for years. But if he or Nick thought she would give up without fighting for what was hers, they were badly mistaken.
Taryn opened the bakery’s front door, and an electronic ping sounded. The scent of fresh bread greeted her like an old friend. And it was. This place was her second home.
She’d grown up within these walls—learning to bake saying her ABCs; measuring ingredients provided her first lesson in fractions; and using the differences between liquid and dry items to understand volume. Baking was in her DNA. She’d never considered, never wanted, another job other than to run the bakery.
The bell dinged again when the door shut.
The second sound reminded staff to come to the counter if no one was out front. It worked better than the jingling of the old bell. Though replacing it led to a meltdown by her father.
A typical reaction.
Ever since Taryn took over running the bakery, her parents questioned each decision, big or small, she made, threatening not to sign the bakery over to her. She’d run every aspect of the business for three years, longer if she counted the years before her father retired, but he kept saying her handling the bakery alone was a trial run.
Trial run!
What else did she need to do to prove herself?
Jayden, her assistant manager, refilled the display case with baked goods. “Good morning.”
He was the definition of tall at six feet two, dark with umber skin, and movie-star handsome with features that made customers take second and third looks. He was also a great baker. She counted him and Rachelle, his wife of ten years, among her closest friends.
He glanced up. “What happened?”
Taryn didn’t know how he could read her so well. “What do you mean?”
