Page 18 of A Gingerbread Romance

Berg nodded. “Actually, the opposite is true. Turns out a lot of businesses are cutting down on delivery costs if they offer a convenient way for customers to get their goods quickly.” He turned to gaze at her. “Now, I’m not suggesting you offer delivery, but if you gave your customers the option for curbside pickup for orders over, say, ten dollars, you might see that it makes a lot of sense for your bottom line.”

She was actually glad to hear it. “Honestly, I’ve been wanting to bring the bakery into the twenty-first century. I love that idea, but our website doesn’t have the ability to take online orders.”

“We can fix that, too.” He smiled.

“Really?” This was like a dream come true. Why hadn’t Jean done this ages ago if she had the money for it now?

He nodded, then moved toward the window display. “What about this gingerbread house?” said Berg, inhaling the sweet candy, vanilla, and molasses scents which filled the air as they moved closer. “It’s amazing.”

“Thanks,” Greta said with a burst of pride. “I built it myself.”

“You did? Wow.” Greta never tired of seeing people’s reactions to her gingerbread houses.

“I went to school for that sort of thing.”

“I see. Well, your talent’s not been wasted,” he said, bending at the waist to examine the display in detail. “I’m guessing you use it to entice customers to come inside?”

She nodded. “Yes, exactly.”

“And what do you do with it at the end of the season? Do you sell it?”

“Oh no, we leave it up until Christmas Eve, usually, and then it gets thrown away unless one of the staff members wants to take it home. It’s not very edible after sitting out for two or three weeks.”

Berg crossed his arms, one hand on his chin. “Well, what if you turned it into a giveaway? When a customer comes in, they’d be able to enter a drawing to win the gingerbread house. All they’d have to do is make a purchase. You can put a sign in the window. And then, once you draw a winner, you could have it delivered, maybe even on December twenty-fourth? Because what a nice prize—to win it in time for a holiday gathering.”

Greta’s thoughts raced.

“That would build some more excitement around here, wouldn’t it? You can showcase pictures of the house and post giveaway banners on your social media, too.”

“That’s a great idea.” How had she never thought of it herself? “I love it. Where do we start?”

He grinned. “Great. Let’s get to work.”

* * *

The next afternoon,Jonathan stopped outside the bakery on his way from a meeting. He glanced up at the bakery’s sign, unsure if Greta would speak to him, but it was time to find out because, try as he might, he still couldn’t get her off of his mind.

A sign over her gingerbread house in the window caught his attention. He’d noticed the house before, especially since she’d told him about it—and realized soon after that it was a miniature of her own real house. But the promotion was probably Berg’s work. Nice.

He went inside the store, and his senses were immediately overcome by the delicious smells of cinnamon and cookies fresh from the oven. He inhaled deeply.

Christmas music played softly in the background, and the glass cases holding a luscious array of baked goods donned pine branches and holly. A clerk attended to some customers at the other end of the room near the Christmas tree, decorated for the season.

His eye caught Greta’s just as she exited the kitchen and stepped behind the counter. “Hey,” she said, startled, then frowned.

“Hey,” he replied. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, uh, fine, thanks.” The last thing he wanted to do was make her uncomfortable at work, but he had to talk to her.

“Are you still upset with me?”

Her shoulders rose in a noncommittal shrug, and she let out a long sigh.

She looked awfully cute in a white apron over her jeans and long-sleeved pink crew neck. He was glad to see she’d at least speak to him, but he wasn’t at all sure how she’d respond. Still, he had to ask before it was too late.

“I was hoping we could talk when you have a minute.” He wasn’t going to bring up anything about the consulting work. Berg had given him a full report, so he knew things were going smoothly.

“Yeah, okay. Sure,” she said flatly. Greta walked to the end of the counter and came out from behind it to join him near the wall where they’d have a little of privacy. “What’s this about? I thought I explained things last week.”

---