I also like the look of her in that cute bakery apron with the smudge of icing on her cheek. I hope she doesn’t discover it’s there and wipe it off too soon.
Our moment is interrupted by Adrianne taking my arm and tugging me toward one of the huge stainless-steel tables and Jefferson tossing me an apron.
Adrianne pulls two cookies and a cupcake off the stacked trays along the wall and brings them over.
“I just need you to copy these,” she says.
One of the cookies is a simple round sugar cookie decorated like a Christmas tree ornament. The other is a snowflake, frosted white with silver piping along the edges of each branch, then sprinkled with silver-glittery sugar. The cupcake is a white cupcake with green frosting swirled into a cone shape on top, then decorated like a little Christmas tree with various-colored balls and a candy star on top.
I nod. “I think I can handle this.”
“I’m sure you can,” Adrianne says. She points out the various piping bags and tools I will need to accomplish the looks, then says, “And I know I said I love perfectionists, but these don’t have to actually beperfect. We appreciate the help. And if you find that you don’t like doing this or it’s more than you expected, just say something. We can switch things up. Peyton or I couldcome back here, and you can help Ginny up front. It’s just good for us to be up front when we’re busy like this so we can thank our customers and answer questions.”
“Of course,” I agree.
She doesn’t know who she’s dealing with. I am a perfectionist, and I also enjoy a new challenge. I also really like Adrianne Riley, and I think her family often gets caught up in the science and engineering surrounding her husband's and sons' businesses and doesn’t appreciate what she does enough. I am absolutely going to give this project my all.
I have never decorated baked goods before, but these are going to be fantastic.
And within five minutes, I am completely caught up in what I’m doing, even to the point of forgetting for a few minutes that my new obsession is right up front, dressed in a pink apron and probably smelling like buttercream.
I love buttercream.
CHAPTER 7
GINNY
I finally admitthat I’ve been anticipating Everett’s arrival.
For about a month.
Ishouldn’t. I told him all about why. And I’ve repeated all of those reasons to myself over and over again.
For about a month.
But I was still eager to see him and my stupid heart and stomach both flipped when he walked through the door of my mother’s bakery.
“He’s only done a dozen?” I ask Mia. “It’s been two hours.”
Mia laughs and holds up the cupcake and one of the cookies. “Yeah, but have you ever seen a more beautiful Christmas tree ornament cookie?”
Honestly? No. He has only done eight cookies—four ornaments and four snowflakes—and four cupcakes. In two hours. But they are absolutely perfect. Prettier than anything my mom or Peyton has ever decorated. I mean, sure, they do custom cakes and all kinds of other things. But given forty-eight hours straight, I’m sure Everett could decorate an elaborate four-tier wedding cake that would take our breath away.
“This is ridiculous,” I say to Mia.
She just giggles.
“Up front he would’ve at least been getting to know people.”
“I’m not kidding when I say I think he had a great time,” Mia says with a quiet laugh. “He was so locked in.” She holds up two of the ornament cookies. “And he asked if he could do a different design of his own and look at this thing.”
It’s very pretty. And every single line, squiggle, and swirl is perfect.
“It is completely inefficient and not cost-effective to have it take him that long.”
“I’ll get faster with practice.”
I whirl around to see Everett coming out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel.
