Page 269 of A Taste of Vanilla

She nods.

“I regret ever having the idea to open a place next to you,” Oliver complains.

“You love me.”

“I tolerate you.”

I open my notebook and scribble the tasting menu.

SAINTS & SINNERS LATE-NIGHT MENU

SWEET HEAT VICTORY TWISTS

DARK CHOCOLATE PRETZEL COOKIES

COCONUT BLOOM NIGHTCAP

OLIVER’S EMOTIONAL SUPPORT FRIES—NOT FOR SALE.

“Erase that last one,” Oliver says, pointing to it.

“No.”

“Halston.”

I throw up my hands. “It’s a joke, Oliver.”

Marley looks at me from the corner of her eye, worrying her lip. “You know, Dev had a really good idea earlier.”

“Yeah?”

“We were talking about”—she pauses—“all of this, and he said he had jokes about doing a cookie called The Receipt.”

I freeze.

“His plan was—” She looks back at her computer. “A layered bar. Dark chocolate, salted caramel, brown butter shortbread. A line of raspberry jam for blood.”

“I hate raspberry,” I say, wrinkling my nose.

“Okay, strawberry.”

“Better.”

A pastry built from layers.

Evidence.

I smile slowly.

“We’re doing it.”

The next morning, I call the lawyer.

“Denise Calder,” she says as she answers.

“Hi, Denise, this is Halston Smith from Bitter Bloom.”

A beat goes by. Then, “Halston, I’m so glad you called,” she says warmly.