Page 18 of Any Girl But You
And now…I’m closed for two weeks.Minimum.
Putting a sign in my door this morning saying I was closed for unforeseen circumstances was terrible enough when I thought this would last a day. I really thought I could just call someone and have this fixed, and we’d be back up and running in a few hours.
“Oh gosh. Two weeks? Is there anything we can do?”Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
He stuffs the pen back in his breast pocket and shakes his head. “No, unfortunately not. These little buggers got ya good.Honestly, two weeks is best-case scenario because the inspector still has to sign off after it’s all fixed.”
My belly twists so hard I feel like I’m going to be sick. I have customers and weddings and birthday parties and anniversaries and so many commitments to so many people, and they will absolutely hate me if I can’t fulfill their orders. People’s special days will be ruined, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I bite at the inside of my cheek and take a breath. “Well, um, I guess, thank you for letting me know.” My feeble attempt to keep my voice cheerful fails. “Here, let me pack you up some cookies for the road.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” he says, but his eyes are already scanning the case.
I move from the kitchen to the shop and flinch when I see Frankie and Quinn outside, cupping their eyes against the window to look inside. Quinn scans the space, and when she sees me, she stumbles back a foot. Through some unexpected, warm flutters in my stomach, I give her a weak wave and she waves back.
Seeing Quinn is probably the only decent thing about today. Ever since the Christmas vendor event, I’ve thought about her a lot. Probably excessively, if I’m being honest. But that day, I saw Quinn transform from feisty and blunt, to blushing and fidgety when people approached the table. Throughout that day—and yes, I ended up staying the whole day—her hard shell exterior cracked, and I got a glimpse of the gooey inside. And I really liked what I saw.
And then she started visiting my shop, several days a week, and each time she pops in, my pulse surges. When she’s here, we chat effortlessly and brainstorm things like me selling cookies (green and red!She’d laugh) when she opens for business. And every time she leaves, a part of me wishes she’d stayed longer.
I just have to keep reminding myself that Quinn’s desires in life are different than mine. As long as I do that, I won’t get hurt.
I pack up a large box of cookies and cupcakes, and hand it to the electrician. Through the storefront windows, I see Quinn wrap both hands around Frankie’s upper arm and physically try to drag her sister down the sidewalk. But Frankie is standing solid, her hands shoved in her pockets, with a grin. I can only imagine the avalanche of swear words flying from Quinn’s mouth right now.
Ken rests the box in his arms and gives me one more sympathetic glance. “I’ll let you know the moment the replacement parts arrive. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be quicker than what we think.”
I appreciate the white lie, but I know things like this move at the speed of a sloth. I grab the paperwork from him and unlock the front doors to let him out.
The warm sun hits me, and Isquint into the morning light. Winter is creeping around the corner, ready to swap the fall leaves with chilly air and frosty breath, and I want to soak in the last bit of warmth. Sadly, because of a gang of hairy rodent monsters, now is not the time. “Hey, guys,” I say to Quinn and Frankie with a quiet smile, swallowing back the fierce urge to cry.
“Hey,” Quinn says with a scrunched brow. “Everything okay? Your sign says you’re closed?”
My traitorous lip trembles. My bakery—closed. All those people disappointed, all those days ruined, all my staff left wondering when they can return to work. This is terrible.
“Whoa. Did that guy do something?” Frankie narrows her eyes down the street at the electrician, her muscular arms crossing across her chest. “Do him and I need to have words?”
This makes me crack a smile, which thankfully halts the sniffles. “No, no, he’s nice. Please don’t hurt him.”
“Good.” Quinn lets out a breath, tucking a red coil behind her ear. “Frankie’s the muscle, but I can do a solid verbal beatdown if needed.”
I can’t help it. Tears fill in my eyes behind my glasses.
“Oh no, I swear I’m just kidding. I won’t give this guy a verbal anything.” Quinn steps forward and rests a hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Stupid freaking chipmunks! Chipmunks of all the things,” I say, and swipe at a tear. My glasses fog up behind the lenses, and I remove them to fan my face. Quinn and Frankie flash a sister-code-only look at each other, but I can easily translate. They think I’ve lost my mind. “A rabid band of chipmunks got under the crawl space of this building and cut through some wires, and now most of the electricity in here won’t work. My industrial freezer and fridge are shot.”
“Oh my God, no,” Quinn says and removes her hand from my shoulder. I kind of want her to put it back. “Holy shit, that sucks so bad. Is there anything we can do?”
“Not unless you know someone who owns an industrial fridge or freezer.” I cannot believe all of my stuff—pounds of butter, dough, pastry sheets, eggs, fruit, and more—will be destroyed. My heartbeat thuds against chest, and sticky sweat prickles against my neck.What in the ever-loving heck am I going to do?
A slow smile passes over Quinn. Why is she smiling? This isn’t funny. My baby, my home, my everything, is in crisis. She shoots Frankie a glance with an arched eyebrow, and Frankie gives her a quick nod.
“Just so happens Idoknow someone who owns an industrial fridge and freezer,” Quinn says and checks her watch. “How much time do we have to save your stuff?”
ELEVEN
ZOEY
For the next hour, Quinn, Frankie, and I fly around my bakery. While Frankie runs to the grocery store to grab bags of ice and buy out the entire stock of Styrofoam coolers, Quinn and I dash to the kitchen and start packaging items. We hardly speak as I zip through plastic-wrapping and Quinn boxes items like our life depends on it.
“Okay, all the eggs are in one space. Do you want me to add the frozen pastries on top of them, or the frosting?” Quinn calls out as she stacks items in a cooler and Frankie runs to the gas station for more ice.
