Page 17 of Frosted Fakes

Jamie was looking at her with an expression that managed to be both sympathetic and disappointed. "That was a bit much, don't you think?"

"She needed to hear it."

"Did she?" Jamie leaned against the counter. "Or did you just need to say it? And you do realize that her taking the batteries out of the smoke alarm is a terrible idea?"

Elliott didn't have an answer for that. She stood in the middle of the destroyed kitchen, surrounded by flour, and told herself firmly that she didn't care.

She had a cookbook to write. She had her own dreams to chase.

She didn't have time to worry about Julia and her sad eyes and her hopeless attempts at bread.

She didn't.

Really.

After all, what could possibly be in it for her?

Chapter Seven

Jamie's restaurant was called The Oakhaven Table, and it was everything Julia's bakery wasn't: calm, organized, and notably free of smoke damage.

Julia slid into a booth near the back, still wearing flour in her hair and what she suspected was chocolate under her fingernails. At least she hoped it was chocolate. She'd meant to change before coming over, but after her second day of culinary disasters, she'd barely had the energy to lock the bakery door. And when Jamie had popped in before closing offering wine, she’d almost bitten his hand off with eagerness.

"You look like you've been in the wars," Jamie said, appearing with two glasses of wine. He set one in front of her without asking. "Red okay? You seem like you need red."

"I need something stronger than red." Julia took a grateful sip anyway. "But this is a start."

Jamie slid into the seat across from her, his expression warm with sympathy. "Bad day?"

"Bad day doesn’t begin to describe it." Julia rubbed her eyes, remembered the chocolate under her nails, and hoped that it wasn’t now smeared over her face. "I burned four batches of scones. Four. Tara had to physically remove me from the oven."

"Tara's good. Reliable."

"Tara is the only reason I haven't been run out of town yet." Julia took another sip of wine. "She's doing all the actual baking while I smile at customers and pretend I know what I'm doing. Which, for the record, I absolutely do not. Nor, for that matter, do I have many customers."

Jamie leaned back, studying her. "Can I give you some advice? From one business owner to another?"

"Please. I'll take anything at this point. Tea leaves. Fortune cookies. Interpretive dance."

He laughed. "Nothing that creative, I'm afraid. Just practical stuff." He pulled out his phone and started scrolling. "First, suppliers. You're probably still using whoever Milly had contracts with, yeah?"

Julia nodded. She hadn't even thought about suppliers. There were suppliers?

"Right, so Michael′s is good for dairy, but their delivery times are rubbish. Switch to Rose Farm, they're new but they’re local, they're reliable, and they'll actually show up when they say they will." He turned his phone toward her, showing a contact. "Tell Sarah that Jamie sent you. She'll sort you out."

Julia fumbled for her own phone, typing frantically. "Rose Farm. Sarah. Got it."

"For flour, stay with your current lot, Barton′s is the best in the county, and Milly had a good relationship with them. Don't mess with that." Jamie continued scrolling. "Eggs, same thing. But for specialty ingredients, fancy chocolate, unusual extracts, that sort of thing, there's a place in Bath that does mail order. I'll text you the details."

"You're a lifesaver." Julia meant it. This was more useful information than she'd gathered in two days of panicked Googling about running a bakery. "Seriously, Jamie. Thank you."

"That's what neighbors are for." He grinned. "Also, I have selfish motives. If your bakery fails, someone worse might move in. Like a chain coffee shop. Or a vegan restaurant."

"What's wrong with vegan restaurants?"

"Nothing, in theory. But I've seen what happens when they open next to established places. Suddenly everyone's asking why I don't have more plant-based options, and I have to pretend I know what jackfruit is."

Julia laughed, and it felt like the first real laugh she'd had in days. "Fair enough."