Page 44 of Honeycombs & Homecomings

“But there’s this chef in California, Cash Evans,” she continued, “and his cooking is way better than yours.” She stared him down, poker face intact. “No offense.”

“I know Cash Evans,” Cynthia said. “We went to his bar and grill, what was it called again, Ryan?”

“A Cut Above, wasn’t it,” Ryan asked.

“Yes, that it,” Cynthia said. “It was so delicious, but this meal was easily as good.”

Jo laughed into her napkin.

“Thank you, Cynthia, I see you appreciate good cooking when you taste it.” Cash winked at Cynthia.

Cynthia slapped his shoulder. “I sure do.”

Ryan tossed his linen napkin on the table. “So, Allie, Cynthia and I talked it over, and we definitely want in. We have our copy of the contract back at the Cornucopia Inn. We’re going to read through it again tonight and make sure everything looks right, and then we thought we could come back tomorrow, around brunch, to have everyone sign. Sound good?”

Jo straightened her spine and smiled from ear to ear. “Yes, that’d be perfect. Thank you!”

“You do have a notary in town, right?” Cynthia asked.

“Yes,” Jo said. “Ethan Morrison.”

Cynthia pushed her chair back. “I hope you don’t mind, but we heard there’s a dance tonight and we want to go jump in.” She stood.

“Of course,” she said, her mind whirling. She’d done it! They had investors. Allie was going to flip!

Ryan helped his wife into her jacket. “You’re welcome to join us?”

She felt like dancing, but she had things to do. “I better not,” she said. “I have some things to go over tonight. Tomorrow’s the last day of the festival, and the store and booth will be packed. Also, I need to reread the contract, too.”

They left, and Jo rushed in to Cash’s arms. “We did it!”

“You did it,” he said. “All I did was pretend to be Tony.” She felt his arms tightening about her, and pulled back, reminding herself again that he was leaving. That this was pretend. Fake. And nothing else.

She did a little jump in place. “I need to grab the contract.” She headed for the stairs.

“Jo,” he called after her, but she ignored him, recognizing his serious tone for the trouble it was. “Jo.”

He followed her downstairs and sat on the desk next to the safe as she opened it and pulled out several folders. “We need to talk,” he said.

She flipped through several folders looking for the right one; her nerves suddenly ratcheting up. A file slipped from her hand, the papers within fluttering out and all over the floor. She rushed to pick them up, and Cash helped. Her heart stuttered in her chest when she realized what it was she’d dropped. Her ideas for things they could try with the honeys. Mostly candy recipes.

Cash grabbed a handful of her handwritten notes and started reading through them. “What are these?”

She reached for them, but he leaned away. “They’re nothing. Give them, Cash.”

He stood. “These are recipes for candies and pastries.”

She stood and grabbed for them, but he lifted them out of reach. “They’re nothing; they’re just ideas.”

“You’ve made these.” His finger slid down a page, stopping on notes she’d made in the margins. “You’ve made these several times, haven’t you?”

She had, actually. She’d been trying to perfect them, and she thought she’d gotten close.

Cash looked at her. “Why aren’t you selling these?”

She turned from him. She didn’t want to have this conversation with him again. “They’re not good enough.”

He looked at them again, then held them out, pointing at them. “I’m calling bull. These have every appearance of being delicious.”

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