Page 3 of Banter & Blushes

The twenty-something busboy at the Crab House... The fifty-year-old man who purchased the Grab and Go... Even the recently divorced school principal...

Truthfully, Harmony is more enthusiastic about matchmaking than I am.

Pasting a not-interested expression on my face, I shrug and say, “I’ll probably never see him again. He’ll be too busy procuring the best offer for Hugo’s property to come back for tea, pastries, or matchmaking.” I also don’t see him purchasing essential oils, soy candles, or my popular line of crystal jewelry.Maybe he’d like to read the latest bestseller?

“We need to get you out there, so Mr. Bainbridge notices you. I hear Hugo is holding a meet-and-greet coffee for all interested buyers some morning next week. Why don’t you and Zoe cater it?”

How does Harmony know all this?

I shake my head. “We’ve only catered the chamber of commerce monthly meetings, and no one there expects high-end pastries. These buyers are way out of our league.”

“Oh shoo! They’re just plain folk who like sugar and caffeine,” she says, waving her hand. “I’ll let Hugo know you and Zoe are available.”

Before I open my mouth to decline the gig, Harmony sprints off, moving faster than I’ve ever seen her move. The door swooshes shut, leaving only her unique citrus scent in her wake. She’s like a bulldog with a bone, so there’s no need to follow her and protest her meddling in my business and my love life yet again. Sighing, I start to stew over what fiasco could happen during the catering gig at Hugo’s meeting. Zoe and I have had our fair share of “unfortunate incidents.”

Despite my hesitation over the catering gig, my heart flips that I might see Mr. Bainbridge again. Because I’m very interested in seeing Cade Bainbridge again.

I putout theBack in a Few Minutessign and stroll over to Zoe’s bakery. After Mr. Bainbridge and Alfred, I haven’t seen a single rush of people interested in soy candles, books, or crystal jewelry. Sighing, I remind myself to be patient since the tourist season is just getting into full swing. I weathered the winter by breaking even, but I need tourists to flock to my shop in order to turn a profit. On top of that, my matchmaking business is as hungry as a seagull waiting for a beachgoer to drop a French fry.

Zoe used to spend summers in Seabreeze Harbor with her spinster aunt, andshe fell in love with the place. Her romantic descriptions of the salty fresh air, soft white sand, and sunshine were enticing, considering I was used to bucking California traffic and smog. When she inherited two storefronts on Main Street, and even though I’d be moving to the other side of the country, she convinced me that a new start was just what I needed. My parents had just gone through an acrimonious divorce, my hours working as an escape room attendant had just been cut, and I was in limbo as to what to do next. The inheritance seemed like a sign from above, so here I am.

My funk fades when I enter the bakery as aromas of cinnamon, vanilla, and baked goods attack my nose in the most delightful fashion. My best friend is waiting on a customer looking for their next sugar fix, but Zoe looks up, a smile splits her face, and she gives me a friendly finger wave. I wave back as I peruse the bakery case, my mouth watering at all the delicious selections. I should probably end my campaign against sugary treats and offer some of these other tempting options in my shop.Would that help bring in more customers?

While living in California, I embraced the vegan, GMO-free, sugar-free lifestyle. When I moved here and became the proprietor of the only local specialty tea shop, I decided to sell only healthy baked goods. That’s when Zoe created her line of fudgy black bean brownies, no-sugar-added vegan oatmeal cookies, and strawberries-and-cream energy balls, to name a few. They’re all delicious, but the terms “sugar-free” or “no-sugar” get the same reaction as Cade Bainbridge had every time. His snide comment echoes through my brain. “No-sugar desserts? Isn’t that an oxymoron?”

“Are you considering something other than a sugar-free treat?” Zoe teases from the other side of the bakery case.

“No, but I am considering offering some in my store,” I admit. “I need something to boost sales.”

Her smile slips. “Let’s grab a cup and chat. Kelsey can handle the front for a few minutes.” Zoe fills a plate with some sugar-free blueberry muffins, then pours two cups of her special beach blend coffee and motions for me to follow her to the break room in back. We sit at a tiny café table shoe-horned in the corner. “Okay, spill. Why the gloom and doom expression?”

Over the last two years, my friend has had to talk me off the ledge several times, so she knows the drill. A sigh escapes. “My store is just breaking even. I’m a horrible matchmaker. And Harmony is going to set us up for another catering gig.” All my worries tumble out at once.

She winces. “Another Harmony catering gig? Why and when?”

Fiddling with the rim of my coffee mug, I say, “You remember those rumors about Hugo Sears selling his beachfront property?”

Zoe nods.

“The real estate agent handling the sale stopped by my store this afternoon.”

“And?”

“He’s veryattractive?—”

My friend squeals, cutting me off mid-sentence. “And the catering gig offers you the opportunity to see him again? Let’s do it!”

I wince at her enthusiasm. “Have you already forgotten what happened when we catered that coffee meeting for the mayor’s re-election campaign?”

“That was just bad luck. You didn’t see the bumblebee until it was too late.”

I arch an eyebrow at my friend’s ability to make excuses for my inept serving skills. “Spilling that serving platter full of pastries on Mayor Cumberland’s bald head sure didn’t help his chance for re-election,” I scoff. Yes, the bumblebee startled me, but I should have acted like a normal person and set the tray down. Instead, I tried to fend off the bee while holding the platter.

“You’ve got to admit, that dance you did with the tray was hilarious.” Her eyes crinkle at the corners and she giggles. “Honestly Luna, it was the mayor’s own fault. If he hadn’t also tried to shoo the bee away, he wouldn’t have knocked the tray out of your hand.”

“I shouldn’t have been holding a serving platter loaded with gooey sweets over his head.”

The giggles continue and a few tears leak from her eyes. After a few seconds, I can’t help but join in as I remember vividly the mad scramble by the mayor’s re-election team to kill the bumblebee. Someone dashed out with a fly swatter, and another produced a can of bug spray. The bee calmly flew out the window, unscathed.

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