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Gram slid the slice of pie from a spatula onto a plate, handing it to Jess. She took a tentative bite, expecting the filling to be overly sweet and the crust to be crumbly and dry.
Oh, how wrong she was.
The cherry filling was perfectly bright and tart, the liquid syrupy and thick enough for the pie to hold its shape. The crust was buttery and flaky and easy to fork into. She took another big bite of the pie, closing her eyes, feeling embarrassed by the moan that escaped her throat without her consent.
Gram chuckled. “That good, huh?”
She speared another chunk, shoveling it in her mouth, not caring that she was talking with her mouth full. “Can I have this recipe for the bakery?”
“Of course, why else do you think I made it?” Gram’s eyes twinkled.
She picked up the end with the crust, biting into it. “And your oatmeal chocolate chip cookies?”
“Now that one is top secret. Grampy has been after it for years.”
Jess frowned. “What would it take for you to hand it over to me instead?”
“Seeing he’s got two decades of free blueberry coffee cake in his favor, you’ll have your work cut out for you.”
She groaned, looking down at her empty plate, wondering if it would be extremely rude to lick it clean. Grampy’s blueberry coffee cake was a staple in town—the townies went absolutely nuts for it. She’d wanted to get her hands on that recipe for years, but it was sealed tight in his vault of buttery, sugary secrets. And apparently Gram’s oatmeal chocolate chip cookies were of the same caliber. There’s no way she would choose Jess to give that recipe to.
Jess leaned back in her chair, running a hand through the long, wispy blonde strands cupping her face—the result of trying to grow out the bangs she’d given herself last summer. Another mistake to add to her list of horrible life choices. “Do you think Grampy is going to flip about us opening up a bakery?”
Gram tutted. “His deli brings in as much business in the afternoon as his baked goods do in the morning. Sometimes more.”
“Yeah but…still,” Jess huffed. “Haverport is always up in arms anytime a new business pops up.”
It was why chains of any kind couldn’t survive on Main Street; they were protested heavily by townies who didn’t want big corporations to take over their beloved mom-and-pops downtown. The nearest chain was a Starbucks, which was a twenty-minute drive out of town, right off the entrance to the interstate.
Opening up her own spot wasn’t as bad as a chain, but trying to compete with one of the oldest and most successful businesses in town? She could already picture the headlines. Self-Taught Baker Thinks She’s Better Than Grampy. Don’t Go, She Sucks.
Gram reached over and patted Jess’s hand on the table. “I can see that mind of yours spiraling. Don’t fret. It will all work out for the best.”
She exhaled. “Will it? Will it really all work out for the best?”
“Yes,” Gram replied, again without hesitation, like she was a fortune teller revealing the future. “You have a great partner in this. I know you will be just fine.”
Jess frowned. “You mean Kevin?”
“He’s a good boy. A little…aloof, sometimes. But kind-hearted and passionate. And very excited about working with you.”
Her chest tightened. “He told you that?”
Gram smiled, that little twinkle still in her eye. “He didn’t have to, dearie. It’s written all over his face when he looks at you.”
Chapter Seven
Jess was skeptical that the space would be up and running in a week. And yet, somehow, it came together without any issues. As if some kind of magical fairy was behind it all, spinning spells to make sure renovations went smoothly and appliances were delivered on time and installed with ease. In six days, Port Wheels was transformed as Kevin’s vision for the bakery came to life.
She dipped a roller in a tray with beige paint, carefully lifting it before turning back to the wall. Even though Jess was meticulous about keeping her dripping to a minimum, she’d shielded the entire storefront and the bikes in plastic just in case. Which proved to be the correct choice when Kevin kicked the front door open, causing Jess to flinch and splatter paint on her shirt and the plastic covering the shiny new espresso machine next to her.
Jess set the roller down carefully and scowled at Kevin as he came marching in, one hand holding a couple of canvas totes filled to the brim, the other balancing a pizza box.
She frowned. “Weren’t you supposed to be at Lowes?”
“I was at Lowes,” he replied brightly, plopping the bags down before setting the pizza on the plastic-wrapped counter between them. “But they didn’t have everything you requested so I also had to stop at True Value and Target, and Penny’s was on the way home.”
“Can you even afford pizza?” Jess chuffed.
