Page 274 of A Taste of Vanilla

I wince. “You asked for my opinion.”

She looks down. “No, you’re right.” She chews on her cheek.

“Make limited quantities of what you like, but we have to scale up the recipes a ton. I can help with that if you want me to. It fits your brand. High energy, no apologies when something sells out.”

Marley types faster. “Scarcity but make it whimsical.”

“That sentence is exhausting,” Oliver complains.

Halston grabs the blue marker and starts writing. “Okay. Schedule restocks. Four p.m. bakery case reset. Seven p.m. late-night menu launch with Saints & Sinners. Nine p.m. final map-cookie pickup window. I kind of want to type up a story to go with each box. Do I have time to do that?”

She looks at Marley, whose expression turns concerned. “I think you could if you make it quick. Explain the lore and print out a few hundred copies so we can keep them here to use as needed.”

Halston nods, her eyes wide now.

“That sounds perfect,” I say.

“You sound surprised.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay, devastated by my competence?”

I look at Marley’s computer, then at her. “I’m uncomfortable that my hands aren’t taking notes right now. How about that?”

This seems to make her happy.

We work for the next hour with a rhythm that isn’t exactly comfortable, but it finds its groove faster than I expect. Halston tells me which pieces she wants help with and which ones are hers. I keep my suggestions to myself until I’m asked. At one point, she asks me to go into the front of the bakery because I’m looking “too large” while she decides whether an icing color is whimsical or upsetting.

The icing color is upsetting.

She throws it into the trash.

Dev frowns, watching it. “Rest in peace, swamp blue.”

On her board in the back, Halston has written out a production board. Her handwriting loops and slants and occasionally becomes much too large for the space provided. It’s organized by Mandatory, Flexible, Can Move, Can Cut, and Must Remain Chaotic for Brand Integrity.

I stare at the last category.

“You hate it,” she says, noticing immediately.

“I’m processing it.”

She watches me, and after a moment of silence, goes, “Fine. Make a list of things that we can clean up, okay?”

Music to my ears.

I whip out my notebook and place it on the table. Halston watches me as Oliver leans in, looking over my shoulder curiously.

Things Halston Is Allowed to Change at the Last Minute Because Apparently Joy Requires Chaos.

No one speaks.

Then, Halston lets out a noise that sounds like a cross between a laugh and a sob. Her hand goes to her mouth.

“Is that romance?” Dev whispers.

“Dev,” Lisa says sternly.