Page 114 of A Taste of Vanilla

My bakery is not a disaster because one machine failed. I’m not a failure because I need help. Bitter Bloom is not suddenly less mine because someone knows how to open the breaker panel.

“I know that,” I say quietly.

“Do you?”

I want to throw a muffin at him.

“No,” I admit.

Warren nods. “I’ll inspect it,” he says, “and then we can decide what to do.”

I swallow.

“You don’t decide?”

“No.”

“You don’t take over?”

“No.”

“You don’t rearrange my whole kitchen while I’m in the bathroom?”

His gaze moves briefly over the prep tables.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Warren.”

“I won’t.”

“That pause was suspicious.”

“Your flour bins are inefficiently placed.”

“My flour bins are fine.”

Marley looks between all of us and exhales slowly. “Okay, great. Crisis one: Agatha. Crisis two: Whitakers. Crisis three: whatever the hell this is.” She gestures vaguely between Warren and me.

“Thisis nothing,” I say.

“Correct,” Warren says.

My eyes flicker to him, and I stop the frown before it fully forms.

Marley watches me. “Oh for the love of God.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“I’ve never seen you look so annoyed.”

Dev appears in the doorway. “Customer wants to know if the Men Are Decorative at Best Latte can be made with almond milk and extra spite.”

I close my eyes. “Yes.”

“Great. Also, Mrs. Alvarez says if Agatha needs a priest, her cousin knows one.”

“Tell Mrs. Alvarez I appreciate her spiritual network.”

Dev nods and disappears.