Page 65 of Knot So Sweet
"'How Not to Be a Tourist: A Guide to Respecting Local Businesses.'"
"Perfect." I start walking again, and Mary falls into step beside me. "And if that doesn't work, we'll just refer everyone to your FAQ sheet."
As we head toward downtown, I can see Mary's already mentally drafting ideas, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"Violet's created a monster," I say, though there's no real blame in it. Having Violet around had seemed like such a good idea initially.
Her articles were bringing positive attention to local businesses. But Garrick's grumpier than usual about the increased crowds, and his profit margins are getting slimmer because customers keep showing up with multiple discounts.
Violet didn't realize they could stack the promotional codes from different articles. Xaden's having to cook to order rather than just preparing what's on his regular menu, as if he's auditioning for a spot on Hell's Kitchen. And now with my vet clinic turning into some social media pet zoo, I'm starting to wonder if maybe we were too quick in letting things ride with Violet's growing influence.
I hate to admit it, but maybe, just maybe, Garrick was right all along. I wanted to help Violet, our pack feels complete, and so does the town, but now I think maybe I made a mistake.
16
VIOLET
Six weeks. Has it really been six weeks since I broke down outside this bakery?
Since I drove into Cedar Ridge with nothing but hope and forty-seven dollars?
Feels like yesterday and forever ago all at once. But whenever I see them, the three alphas, I think about the way my body feels alive whenever I’m with them, emotionally and physically. They do things to me that no alpha has ever done.
I stare at the line of people stretching out the door of Rise & Shine Bakery and grin. It's seven-thirty in the morning, the sun is casting golden light through the front windows, and there are at least fifteen people waiting outside. Garrick must have announced some kind of special pastry and I can't wait to try it myself during my break today.
"Violet!" calls out Mrs. Henderson from the front of the line, her gray hair set in rollers and waves a manila folder in the air. "I need to talk to you about my book club's newsletter. Everyone says you're the best writer in the region!"
Pushing inside the bakery, I step behind the counter to start ringing up customers. I grab my apron and put it on. Behind Mrs. Henderson, it looks like half the town crowds in. BobMartinez from the hardware store stands front and center, work apron dusted with sawdust, and what looks like a hand-drawn flyer clutched in his grip. His weathered face brightens the instant our eyes meet.
"I need help with advertising copy." He smooths the paper on the counter. "My grandson says I need to get with the times, put stuff on the internet. You did such a good job with Sally's diner menu descriptions that people are driving from two towns over just to try those 'sun-kissed buttermilk pancakes.'"
I laugh, remembering the afternoon I'd spent rewriting that tragic menu because "pancakes - $6.50" wasn't exactly inspiring anyone to drive across county lines.
"That's because Violet has a gift," pipes up Mrs. Yang from the middle of the line. She adjusts her navy cardigan and stands straighter. "She wrote the description for my bed-and-breakfast website. Bookings are up forty percent!"
Tommy Briggs stands near the back, holding up his phone and nodding enthusiastically at whoever he's talking to. From his grin, I'd bet he's showing off the social posts I helped him write for his wife's photography business.
"This is a bakery," Garrick says as he emerges from the kitchen, flour dusting his sandy hair and coating his forearms. His expression is tight, jaw set in a way that makes it clear he's less than thrilled with the current situation.
The scent of fresh bread and cinnamon follows him, but there's something sharper underneath which makes my omega side flutter with unwanted awareness.
His dark eyes sweep over the crowd, then land on me. There's no anger there, just irritation. Frustration. Like he's dealing with something he doesn't have the bandwidth for right now.
"These folks are here for pastries," he says, his voice carefully controlled. "Not freelance consultations."
The temperature in the room shifts. Mrs. Henderson's hopeful expression falters, and Bob Martinez starts folding his flyer with defeated movements that make my chest tighten.
Garrick's just overwhelmed. Running a bakery with a line out the door while his counter becomes an impromptu business office probably isn't ideal.
I don't want to antagonize him or create a scene that'll make things uncomfortable for everyone.
"You know what?" I untie my apron and fold it carefully, placing it on the counter. "You're right. This probably isn't the best time or place."
I turn to Mrs. Henderson with a warm smile. "Why don't we meet at Sally's diner instead? We'll have more space to spread out there anyway."
"Oh, honey, are you sure?" Mrs. Henderson clutches her folder to her chest.
"Absolutely." I nod firmly, then gesture to Bob Martinez and Mrs. Yang. "All of you, let's head over to the diner. We'll make this work."
