It probably would have sounded insane if I tried to explain it to anyone else, but in a way, my bakery was my home. It was aphysical piece of my soul, built in brick and mortar, standing tall against the elements of the world and giving shelter to those who needed to find warmth inside its walls.
And after almost losing it all in that sprinkler malfunction, I was a little more stressed out about the fragility of the things we care about. So, I wanted to just drive by and make sure it was okay.
As I turned the corner, something up the street caught my eye. Something out of place. Tucking into a parking spot a few buildings away from my bakery, I studied the scene before me.
A shiny black SUV was parked at the curb outside the bakery, idling silently with a small puff of exhaust billowing from the pipe. The red taillights glowed in the dim evening between the streetlights.
Standing between the curb and the bakery, a man stood.
Though he wasn’t just any man, more specifically, not a man from Cedar Bluff. He wore a suit made of a crisp charcoal fabric that fit every inch of his body perfectly. His shoes were so pristine that the quaint little pendant lights in the front window of Honey & Hearth reflected off them.
In one hand, he held a tablet, and he tapped away at the screen before pausing to stare up at my bakery windows.
To study them.
My heart gave a strange flutter. Something cold slithered across my spine, warning me that whatever he was doing there wasn’t good.
Forcing my spine to find its steel, I got out of my car and quietly walked up the sidewalk toward him, approaching cautiously. “Can I help you?”
He turned, and his response to finding me there on the sidewalk was far too confident. Like he expected me to appear. “Well,” he said, voice smooth like a snake, “are you Marigold James?”
My stomach dropped, “I’m Goldie.”
“Right,Goldie.” He said my name as if it were a child’s nickname as he locked the screen on his tablet. “Adorable. Truly. Fits the aesthetic.”
I blinked, scanning the street for anyone out for a walk or leaving another business. But I was alone. “I’m sorry—who are you?”
He extended a hand, but I had zero intention of shaking it as I stared at him. “Martin Lister. Bakewell Industries. We specialize in brand revitalization and upscale community experiences.”
Brand… what?
“I’m not sure I understand,” I said, trying to steady my voice.
“Oh, of course.” His smile widened. “Let me simplify it for you. My company is opening a bakery across the street.”
He pulled a flyer mockup from the folder under his tablet and handed it to me.
I felt like I was going to throw up as I stared down at the glossy ad in my hand.
Sweet Cravings Café—Gourmet Bakery & Espresso Lounge
Opening Soon!
My chest tightened, “It’s… a franchise,” I whispered.
“Correct.” He smirked, pointing to the Honey & Hearth sign lit up above the front door beside us. “Charming space you’ve built. Very small town chic. And you’ve got heart, clearly. But as you know…” he made a vague gesture at my building. “The market is changing.”
“Changing?” I stammered, “How?”
“Upgrading.” He stated, like it answered the entire question, but then dug his point in deeper. “Customers don’t want to stand at a counter to order their meal, paying with cash only, and waiting for their order. They want an app. They want mobile ordering. They want contactless delivery.”
I stiffened, “I’m doing just fine.”
“Are you?” he asked softly, stepping closer, and I took a step backward, scowling at him. “I hear your outdated sprinkler system malfunctioned recently. Now you’re dealing with backlogged permits, rising supply costs. Add on the competitor moving in right across the street…” his eyes glittered. “It’s all a bit much for one girl, isn’t it?”
I swallowed hard, stiffening my spine and standing taller. “I can handle it. “
He clicked his tongue like he was trying to be sympathetic. “Of course youthinkyou can. But let me be honest, Goldie, Cedar Bluff is ripe for modernization. The people want that. They want corporate support and unified standards. They want upgrades that real money can buy.” He stepped closer again, but this time I was frozen as his tone turned darker, “You won’t survive long-term competing against us. We’d prefer to make you an offer rather than…crush you.”
