Nope, I’m just going to enjoy being myself and running a bakery that brings in more customers every day. That’s my goal in life.
Tucker went over the various security options for the store, but I only met with him because Scotty asked me to. I honestly believe it was a one-off situation. And when he told me the cost of the different options, I told him as much, too.
I don’t have a lavish lifestyle, and the business has started to do well. But even if I had the money that was taken, it’s not an expense I can afford right now.
“What are you working on?” Sarah asks, bending over to sniff the cupcakes that are finally cool enough to frost.
“Oh, it’s just an experiment. It’s a pretzel-like cake made with stout, and I have marshmallow frosting. Then I’ll top it with sea salt flakes.”
Her eyes widen. “That sounds both disgusting and amazing.”
This makes me laugh. I’m always trying to find new innovations to help set us apart from the grocery store bakeries. Most of the time, they turn out okay, but I’ve had my share of major fails. Like the lavender and espresso brownies. That was bad.
But I have had a few successes, too. Ones that were only meant to be temporary but have solidified their permanent spot on the menu.
I frost two of the cupcakes with the marshmallow frosting and sprinkle the sea salt on top. “Here, be my taste tester. And bring one to Scotty. I know he’s in the lobby to keep an eye on things.”
When Sarah first found me experimenting in the kitchen, she was skeptical. But now that she’s in culinary school, she understands the balance I strive for. And the best way to learn is to try. Failure only shows you what not to do and how to fix it next time.
She smiles and walks through the door to the lobby. “Scotty! Try this!”
“Cupcake? Hell yeah!” he says, hurrying toward his girlfriend.
I suspect he heard from Tucker that I opted out of a security system, and he’s here to keep an eye on Sarah more than the store. Tucker promised we’d find a solution after his fourth donut, but I think it was just a sugar high. And a bit unnecessary.
Honestly, who would target me?
“What is this?” Scotty asks, his eyes wide as I walk out to join them.
Sarah takes a big bite, and her eyes widen, too. “Oh my God,” she mumbles with her mouth full.
This could go either way. “Good or bad?”
“It’s…” Scotty takes another bite, shoving the rest of the cupcake into his mouth, “ah-may-zin.”
“I love sweet and salty, and I think I need to try pretzels with marshmallow frosting now. How did you even come up with this?” Sara asks. “And this has to go on the menu, Phoebe. Seriously. This is… This is that recipe you’ve been searching for.”
It’s the highest compliment anyone can give me. Smiling, I shrug. “I got the idea when I went to a German restaurant. There was this appetizer with pub pretzels, and one of the dipping sauces was a marshmallow fluff. It was flavored with alcohol, but it was still pretty remarkable. And it gave me the inspiration for a cupcake.”
“But elevated,” she says. “I mean, you can taste the stout, which I normally hate, but it’s the perfect addition. Gives it depth. And the salt on top brings it to an orgasmic level.”
Scotty bites his lower lip. “You know, I’m not sure I quite got all that, but maybe if I had another one to try, I could figure out if I agree or disagree.”
Chuckling, I nod and frost two more for both of them, sprinkling the top with the flakes. Both devour the treats, moaning in appreciation.
This is why I do this. I like to express happiness and joy through any means necessary, but especially in my food.
“Okay, guys. We’re closing up, so we need to pack up the leftover pastries to bring to the homeless shelter.”
“The homeless guys I see around here are fatter than they’ve ever been. The food definitely doesn’t go to waste,” Scotty says. “How you even have anything left over at the end of the day boggles my mind.”
It’s true. I don’t have to bring the pastries to the shelter every night. I could do what a lot of other places do and serve them the next day. But I’ve never liked that idea. I like being able to boast about my items being baked fresh. As far as the pastries are concerned.
If I didn’t make the cakes and brownies the night before, I’d end up here at midnight to be ready to open. But cakes are more forgiving than flaky pastries.
“Heard your meeting with Pacino didn’t land us a deal for a system,” Scotty says, walking back to get the stack of boxes Sarah grabs for him.
I shake my head. I hate his nickname. Or road name. I don’t really know what the difference is, but to make a joke aboutsomething that probably has a horrific and traumatic story behind it is just cruel.
