Page 10 of Sweet Christmas Comeback
“Because you have that look,” Felicity said, settling into one of the café chairs and beginning to unpack the takeout bags. “That ‘I can figure this out myself if I just try hard enough’ look. I’ve seen it before. Usually right before disaster strikes.”
The smell of lo mein and sweet and sour chicken filled the air, making Jade suddenly realize she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She sank into the chair across from Felicity, grateful to sit down finally.
“You didn’t have to bring dinner,” Jade said, though she was already reaching for a container of fried rice.
“Yes, I did. When your best friend calls to say she’s returned to town and immediately starts what appears to be a one-woman renovation project, you bring reinforcements.” Felicity handed her a pair of chopsticks. “Besides, I figured you might be too stubborn to eat actual meals while you’re busy trying to single-handedly restore this place to its former glory.”
“I’m not trying to single-handedly—” Jade began, then stopped. “Okay, maybe I am. But someone has to do it.”
“Someone, yes. Just you, not necessarily.” Felicity opened her own container and studied Jade with the shrewd gaze of someone who’d known her since they were teenagers. “So. Boston didn’t work out the way you planned.”
It wasn’t a question. Felicity had always been able to read her like a particularly obvious book.
“That’s one way to put it,” Jade said, stabbing at her fried rice with more force than necessary. “Boston was... a learning experience.”
“Ah. The kind of learning experience that teaches you humility and sends you home with your tail between your legs?”
“Something like that.” Jade sighed, setting down her chopsticks. There was no point in pretending with Felicity. “I thought I had it all figured out. Fancy degree, business plan, connections in the city. I was going to take the world by storm.”
“And instead?”
“Instead, I got chewed up and spit out by the corporate world. Turns out you have to be careful whose food you critique when you’re a professional food critic.”
Felicity nodded sympathetically.
Jade pushed rice around her container, the memories still raw despite the months that had passed. “I burned through my savings, maxed out my credit cards, and was three weeks away from having to move back in with my parents when Mabel called about needing help with the bakery.”
“So this is a rescue mission,” Felicity said gently. “You’re saving each other.”
“Something like that.” Jade looked around the bakery, taking in the gleaming surfaces and the warm light from the display case. “Though I’m starting to think I might be in over my head here too. Do you have any idea how much it costs to replace acommercial oven? Or fix plumbing that’s older than both of us combined?”
“Sounds expensive.”
“Prohibitively expensive. Which is why I’m learning to do everything myself.” Jade gestured vaguely at the repair list still sitting on the counter, its two pages of problems a constant reminder of the work ahead. “YouTube University, here I come.”
Felicity was quiet for a moment, picking at her sweet and sour chicken with uncharacteristic thoughtfulness. “You know,” she said finally, “you’re not the only one who’s been struggling.”
Jade looked up, surprised by the sudden shift in her friend’s tone. “What do you mean?”
“I mean this.” Felicity gestured around the bakery, at her bright coat and carefully applied lipstick and the general aura of festive competence she projected. “This whole ‘successful small business owner with her life together’ thing? It’s about fifty percent real and fifty percent very good marketing.”
“Speaking of business,” Jade said, grateful for the chance to shift focus away from her own failures, “how’s the decorating going? You must be swamped this time of year.”
Felicity’s bright smile flickered for just a moment. “Oh, you know. Busy season and all that.”
“Come on, Fee. Real talk. How’s it really going?”
Felicity sighed, her carefully maintained cheerfulness deflating slightly. “Honestly? It’s been better. Half my clients this season are paying me in barter—Mrs. Peterson is giving me piano lessons in exchange for her Christmas mantel, and the Hendersons are trading home-baked bread for their living room makeover. Don’t get me wrong, I love piano lessons and fresh bread, but they don’t exactly pay the electric bill.”
“I had no idea,” Jade said softly.
“Because I’m excellent at projecting success,” Felicity replied with a rueful smile. “Just like you were excellent at projectingthat Boston was everything you’d dreamed it would be. We’re both very good at pretty lies.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of shared honesty settling between them. Outside, the December afternoon was fading into early evening, and the warm light inside the bakery made it feel like a sanctuary against the growing darkness.
“You know what though?” Felicity said, suddenly straightening up, her eyes brightening as she looked around the bakery. “This place has good bones, but it needs some serious Christmas magic.”
“What do you mean?”
