Page 91 of Royal Icing
It waswindy and bitterly cold outside as Emma pushed her mother’s wheelchair down the sidewalk, Arizona and Cooper trotting on either side like security guards.
They were out for some fresh air—as fresh as the air ever got in Brooklyn, anyway—and Emma willed the walk to distract her.
“What about Baked by Emma?” her mom mused. “It’s classic, straightforward.”
“Eh,” Emma said. They’d been throwing around potential business names for the last four blocks, but nothing had felt right.
“You don’t sound super thrilled to be starting your own business,” Lisa said.
“I am. I’m just…distracted.”
“Are you sure there isn’t some other reason? Maybe a six-foot-tall European reason?”
“What? No. That chapter’s over. It just all feels a little overwhelming. That’s all. I’m fine.”
Arizona tugged hard, and Emma pulled to a stop, her heart in her throat. Was it another stroke? A cardiac event?
But no. She had just nearly walked them all out into traffic.
“You don’t sound fine,” her mom prompted.
“It’s just a big adjustment. Crumb and Get It was my whole life for years.”
“I noticed some buzz on their Instagram this morning saying they were closed,” Lisa said smugly.
Several people had posted the dark storefront of the bakery on their social media. It gave Emma a quiet pleasure that Maya was having a hard time reopening.
“Good,” Emma said firmly.
Her phone had positively blown up with texts and calls from Maya, alternating between threats and pleading with her to come back. Emma had finally blocked her, and it was like a grown-woman-sized weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
She was never going back. That much she knew. It was everything else that was still unknown.
“What about Big Apple Bakes?” Lisa offered.
“Ugh, no. Respectfully.”
A man on the opposite curb was staring at them. An expensive-looking camera was slung around his neck. He looked at something on his phone, then looked back at them.
Instinctively, Emma turned and went the other way.
“Aren’t we going to the park?” Lisa asked. She shook a bag of oats meant for the ducks.
“Did you see that guy?” Emma said in a low voice.
“The one with the weird goatee?”
“Yes. He was looking at us. I knew I should have brought the pepper spray.”
“We have two gigantic dogs. We’re fine,” Lisa said, but there was a note of concern in her voice.
Emma glanced over her shoulder. The man hadn’t crossed the street and was now walking parallel to them. Her heart rate ticked up, and Arizona looked at her.
The guy was looking at his phone, seemingly distracted.
They hit another intersection and turned right, back in the direction of home. She glanced over her shoulder when they were a few yards down. No one was behind her. She blew out a long, slow breath.
She was being crazy. They weren’t being followed. It was probably some street photographer or a tourist.
