TESSA
Tessa wasthree minutes into explaining why Lucy’s lavender honey cookies would fail when Lucy cut her off.
“You’re glowing.”
“I’m not glowing.”
“You are. Sit. Tell me everything.”
It was their Monday morning check-in, the same corner table at Flour & Honey at eight thirty, where they reviewed partnership details, coordinated schedules, and argued about menu choices. The table with the wobbly leg Lucy refused to fix because she claimed it had character.
Tessa opened her laptop and pulled up the spreadsheet tracking their joint catering contracts. “We need to finalize the Patterson wedding menu.”
Lucy set down two coffees and a plate of those lavender cookies. “Stop deflecting.”
“I’m not.”
“You look happy. It’s disturbing.” Lucy sat across from her. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
“Liar.”
Tessa broke off a piece of the cookie and tasted it. Lavender and honey, restrained, balanced, asking for attention instead of demanding it. A flavor people didn’t expect but kept thinking about afterward. She’d told Lucy the cookie wouldn’t sell. She’d said the same about the chocolate-tahini bar three months ago and the rosemary-olive-oil shortbread nine months before that. She’d been wrong every time. She was starting to think the problem wasn’t the cookies.
“It’ll sell.”
“I know.”
“You always do.”
“I really do.”
Tessa exhaled. “Gabriel found out I was catering Eleanor Beauchamp’s gallery opening Saturday night. He made it his business to be there.”
Lucy leaned forward. “He tracked you down.”
“He’d heard, called Eleanor for an invitation within the hour. His words.”
“And then?”
“We went to dinner at a Thai place in Chelsea. We talked.”
“About what?”
“Things.”
“Helpful.”
“Lucy.”
“What kind of things. Surface things? Deep things? Emotional baggage things?”
“All the above, and I think I’m about to do something stupid.”
“You’re about to do something brave. There’s a difference.”
The door chimed.
