Page 27 of Working For Her Sweet Treats

“Don’t make this difficult.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“Six o’clock.”

“I’ll be there at five-fifty.”

She ends the call, but the sound of her happiness stays with me long after I return to work.

At five-forty-eight, I park outside The Foundry. Ava arrives two minutes later in jeans, brown ankle boots, and a loose cream sweater that slips slightly off one shoulder when she reaches into the back of her vehicle for a notebook. Her hair is down again. I like it that way.

I also like it twisted into a messy bun, which suggests the hairstyle is not the problem.

Her eyes move to my truck. “You really did arrive early.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I’m deciding whether punctuality is one of your good qualities or another form of control.”

“Let me know what you decide.”

The Foundry occupies a former machine shop near the old industrial district. Inside, exposed brick and heavy steel beams frame dark wood tables. The room still carries traces of its former life, but the smell of oil has been replaced by grilled onions, beer, and hickory smoke.

Kayla meets us near the bar and leads us toward the event area.

“We’re putting the Sweet Treats table along this wall,” she says. “Unless you two see a reason it won’t work.”

“We’re not a ‘you two,’” Ava says quickly.

Kayla glances between us. “I meant the bakery and construction experts.”

“Right.”

I keep my expression neutral. Kayla does not.

The available space is wide enough for the display, but the service door is narrow. I ask Ava where she wants the main table positioned before measuring anything. She chooses a spot beneath an original iron support beam where the warm wood and black metal will look natural. It is the right choice.

Kayla walks us through the rest of the arrangement, including the limited refrigerator space and the route Ava will use for the second delivery. We decide the display can be transported in three sections and assembled on-site in less than twenty minutes.

By the time we finish, Ava has filled several notebook pages with measurements, timing notes, and diagrams only she will understand.

“You look less worried,” I say as we step outside.

“I wasn’t worried.”

The evening is cool enough to carry the scent of the river through town. Ava glances toward Sweet Treats, but I am not ready for the evening to end.

“Coffee?” I ask.

“I own a bakery.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“I’ve been making coffee since four-thirty this morning.”

“Then you deserve one somebody else made.”

Ten minutes later, we sit on the weathered bench at Black River Overlook with takeout cups from The Foundry and an apple crisp cheesecake muffin Ava brought just for me. Below us, the old mill district stretches along the river. Brick factories sit beside newly restored storefronts, and construction lights glow inside buildings that have been empty for years.