Page 273 of A Taste of Vanilla

I take a breath. “How can I help?”

Halston stares at me from the table, one hand still resting near the piping bag. For a moment, she almost looks as if she’ll cry.

“I need help producing all of these,” she says finally.

“Okay.”

“Batch scaling for the relaunch menu. A schedule that doesn’t turn it into a crime scene. We definitely need help with the Receipt bars because Lisa and I disagree on the strawberry layer.”

“I can do that.”

Dev stops next to her and whispers, “This new version of him is unfortunately hot.”

“No,” Oliver grumbles.

“I said unfortunately!”

Halston’s cheeks pinken.

Her hand lands on her stomach and she winces. For the first time, I really, really look at her. She’s exhausted.

Her shoulders slump, and her eyes look far away.

“And Warren?”

“Yes?”

“I need you to believe me. If I say I’m fine, it means that I’m fine to work through it, okay? You need to trust that I know myself well enough.”

Her gaze holds mine for a moment, and I nod.

“Then get over here and get started.” There’s a small, tired smile at the corner of her lips.

I follow her through the bakery, listening to her point out new things and explain new recipes. The prep table is covered in order estimates, a draft of a menu, a description of what she’s looking for in a cookie, and a diagram of a pastry, blue, pink, and yellow sticky notes, plus one aggressive orange one. There’s a calculator, a half-eaten banana, a roll of ribbon, and a plastic dinosaur standing beside the highlighters.

I look at him.

“Emotional support velociraptor,” Halston says.

“Oh.”

“His name is Steve.”

Marley brings her laptop over. “Current numbers. The relaunch post is still gaining traction. People love drama,especially local drama. We have to capitalize on that and turn it into something. There are thirty-eight preorder inquiries for map boxes, twenty-two for Vanilla Proof dozens, sixteen for Coconut Bloom concentrate, and four Vipers players have reposted. There’s an inquiry from a local art gallery for almost fifty pastries for an event hosted by a Baltimore Cobras player’s wife, and Leo Warner posted about us on his story because he apparently has some particular beef with Barrett Whitaker.” Her gaze flicks to Oliver. “The Vipers are extra excited and several of them have written in asking me to make sure Oliver is smiling in promotional photos.”

Oliver’s eyes narrow. “They’re getting banned.”

“One of them bought twelve Victory Twists last time,” Halston says before she looks back at me. “Capacity?”

I take in the numbers, the menu, the prep space, the current staff, and the pickup windows Marley has color-coded aggressively in her spreadsheet.

“First impression or conservative estimate?”

She blinks. “Both.”

“First impression is that demand is strong enough that you can use the excitement without trying to satisfy all of it immediately. My opinion? Limit pre-orders, use the pickup windows, sell bundles, don’t let people customize, and scale map cookies in set boxes. I’d also reduce your standard pastry variety on launch day by about twenty percent. Focus on what people are excited about now and only keep the things you really want people to try and come back for.”

“Reduce variety?” she says, her hand at her chest.