Page 28 of For My Finale
The cafe needed saving, that much was very clear. With the new franchise opening, her days were numbered. Yes, people loved The Bankton Bean. But convenience and price would win out in the end, they always did. She’d seen it happen in other villages, local places crushed by corporate efficiency. She just wouldn’t be able to compete.
She’d listed some ideas, and they stared at her from her screen. Crowdfunding? How would she ever raise enough that way? And enough for what, to keep the place running for a few months, and then…? She could never organize anything like that, anyway.
The weight of self-doubt pressed against her chest. She was no business guru. She was Blossom Baker. She made a decent cup of coffee and liked to see people smile. Who was she to think that she could fight off a giant corporation?
She sighed, rubbing at her face. She wished she had Lilah’s confidence. The way she just waltzed into a room like she owned it. Lilah didn’t hesitate, she didn’t second guess, she just saidwhat she thought and did what she wanted, and damn the consequences.
Blossom tried to imagine herself like that. Storming into a meeting with the town council, demanding support, rallying the village behind her cause with the sheer force of her personality.
It was a tough ask, though. She just couldn’t see herself that way.
Besides, the village could only deal with one chaos gremlin at a time, and currently they had Lilah Paxton.
Three months. That’s about how long it would take her to go bankrupt. She groaned and closed her laptop. She really didn’t want to think about it. She’d figure something out. Something would turn up. It had to.
The cafe door burst open, the bell jangling violently, Gloria sweeping in like a thundercloud in a floral print dress.
“Blossom! It’s a disaster!” she wailed, picking up a menu and fanning herself with it. “An absolute catastrophe!”
Blossom squinted, trying to think of what might have happened and coming up blank. “Um, what is?”
Gloria collapsed onto a chair, looking like she was on the verge of fainting. “She’s going to co-direct the play.”
“Who?” Blossom asked, even though she had the sinking feeling that she already knew.
“Who do you think?” Gloria said. “Her. Lilah Paxton.”
“Alright,” Blossom said. “And…?”
“And? And? You were there. You saw what she did at the first rehearsal. She shredded everyone to pieces. Even me! Me, Blossom! And I studied under Geraldine Fenwick.”
Blossom fought back a smile. Geraldine Fenwick had been an acting teacher in the next village over even when she was a child. From everything she knew, the woman’s main claim to fame was once meeting Judi Dench at a train station. “Gloria, I know Lilah can be… a lot. But maybe this is a good thing?”
“How?” Gloria asked, clutching at her chest. “Please explain to me just how this could be a good thing.”
“Well,” Blossom said, thinking out loud. “She is a professional actress. A big name attached to the show could get more attention, sell more tickets. I’m sure this sort of thing happens all the time in show business, right?”
Gloria hesitated, her dramatic fury wavering. “Well, I suppose. I mean, the National Theater did have Gill Anderson step in for a workshop last year…”
“Exactly,” said Blossom. “And you never know, Lilah might even make the show a little better, given her experience. And everyone profits from that, surely?”
Slowly, a smile started to curve over Gloria’s lips. “And that would reflect on me as the star of the show, of course.”
“Exactly,” said Blossom, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
Gloria clapped her hands. “You know what, Blossom? You’re absolutely right. I will embrace this challenge like the professional I am.” She looked remarkably pleased with herself, as if this had been her own idea. “And if I’m to work with Paxton, then I must be at my absolute best. A nap for me, darling. Kisses!”
And with that, Gloria swept back out of the cafe, her storm clouds dissipated into pure sunshine.
Blossom sighed, shaking her head. She wondered just how many of Lilah’s messes she was going to have to clear up. But even as she thought the question, she already knew the answer. All of them.
Chapter Twelve
Blossom sat in the warm, bustling pub, nursing a half pint of cider that she hadn’t actually taken a sip from in the last twenty minutes. Instead, her attention was firmly on Lilah, who was behind the bar. She was pouring drinks with the practiced ease of someone who had done it a thousand times before, even though Blossom knew for a fact that Lilah had never in her life been behind a bar.
And yet, somehow, she was good at this. Infuriatingly good.
“Oh, come on, Roger, you can’t tell me that you’re still drinking that weak excuse for a beer,” Lilah was saying, wrinkling her nose as she placed a pint of golden ale in front of the gruff, elderly man sitting at the bar. “Try the stout, live a little. You don’t want anyone to accuse you of being boring, do you?”
