“That’s understandable,” Lila said. “But…” She paused and wiped her mouth on a napkin. “Tom, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take the booth. I know it’s going to mean extra work for you at the bakery, but maybe we could get Jade to come in a week earlier for the summer?”
Jade was the student who had worked in the bakery every summer since she was sixteen. She was now in college but still worked there each summer when she came home for vacation.
“Yes, I think that’s a great idea,” Tom agreed. “You heard the customers today. Grumbling that it would be easier if we had a booth at the festival.” He grinned, then frowned. “But, I’m not sure whether we have enough baked goods to stock the booth and the bakery, as we haven’t prepared for it.”
“Now it’s time for me to confess something.” Lila looked a little sheepish. “I’ve been baking for the last two nights.”
“Oh?” Tom looked at her in surprise.
“Yes. I’ve been wanting to try four new recipes for months.” She bit her lip. “I had been thinking of going to the festival to find someone who would be willing to sell them for me.” She gave him a small smile. “My fridge is full of pies, tarts, cupcakes, and cookies.” She held up a small hand. “But we still have a lot of baking to do. But don’t worry, I had the kitchen in my apartment fitted out properly when I moved here to accommodate my baking hobby. So I’ll whip up more tonight and early tomorrow morning.”
Tom laughed. He couldn’t help it.
“You are amazing,” he said, sobering. “Eleanor also used the festival as her testing ground for new baking recipes. She’d spend the weeks before working up three or four new recipes she wanted to try. Then she’d take them to the booth for the weekend. The festival crowd was the most honest crowd she had ever met. If something didn’t fly there, it didn’t fly anywhere. If something did fly there, it went onto the bakery menu the following Monday.” He leaned forward. “I know you’ve been wanting to add to the menu. Let’s do the same thing Eleanor used to do and test your recipes there. Then put the best sellers on the menu.”
Lila’s eyes went huge with disbelief. “Are you sure?”
“It’s time, Lila,” Tom admitted. “Time for change.”
“Thank you, Tom, that means a lot,” Lila replied, a big smile on her face. “Now I’m so glad I made them.” She met his eyes. “Truthfully, I’ve been trying to approach you the whole week with my idea for the festival.”
“Can I ask what some of the recipes are?” Tom finished his club soda and went back to his food.
“A lemon and lavender shortbread,” Lila listed. “A small almond and orange blossom cake, in single-serve sizes. A savory pastry, sun-dried tomato, and goat cheese in a flaky butter pastry. And a brown sugar peach crumble bar, with the peaches fresh from the Petersens’ orchard.”
Tom listened to her describe each one with the small, precise pleasure of a baker who knew exactly what was in every layer of her work, and he felt a piece of his heart settle that had been tilted askew for half a decade.
“They sound delicious,” Tom meant what he said. “And if they fly with the festival crowd, they’re going on the menu Monday morning.”
“Well, I hope they fly off the booth shelf,” Lila told him and went back to her food.
They finished their meal while discussing arrangements for the booth. What they would need, as it was going to be a complete rush. The waiter took their plates, and they ordered coffee, which came within a few minutes. They continued to discuss the booth, and Lila took notes. Finally, their evening drew to a close, and Tom found he didn’t want it to end.
Tom paid the bill. The waiter brought back the receipt and the small folded check holder, and Tom slipped a generous tip onto the table the way he always did. He stood and offered Lila his hand. She took it, and they walked together out of The Driftwood and back to the truck.
“Tom.” Lila turned to him as they pulled into the small drive behind the bakery. “We’re going to have to start even earliereach morning during the festival. While my kitchen is adequate, it would really help to be able to use the bakery kitchen as well.”
“Whatever you need,” Tom promised. “I’ll help you with the baking for the booth as well.” He smiled as he stopped the truck. “You’ll just have to guide me through it.”
“Great,” Lila beamed as she opened the door and slid out.
“So we’ll meet in the kitchen at Five tomorrow morning?” Tom looked at her enquiringly.
“Yes, I can do that,” Lila confirmed.
Tom frowned. “I think I’ll call Gill as well.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “The temp that comes in when we need her to. That will give us more time to concentrate on the booth.”
“That sounds like a great plan,” Lila agreed, then looked at her wristwatch. “As we need to be up so early, I should get home.”
“Right,” Tom nodded.
They walked the short path to the small set of wooden stairs that led up to her front door.
It was a soft, warm night. The live oak’s wide branches across the path stood quiet and dark against the stars. Tom could hear the soft hum of cicadas in the long summer grass at the edge of the path.
They were three steps away from the small staircase when a streak of black and white shot out from behind the porch column right in front of Lila. She pitched sideways with a small gasp.
Tom reached out with lightning speed and caught her with both hands, one at her waist and one at her elbow, then pulled herinto him before she fell to the ground. Lila landed flat against his chest. Her face came up just below his.
