One Funeral (No Weddings #2)(16)

Richard licked his lips, and it wasn’t about Chloe. I think he tasted the chocolate bacon from pure imagination.

When Chloe didn’t jump right on the opportunity to close the deal, I took over. “Can we come in for a moment, Richard? You could grab a plate, and we’ll give you one of each. Then you can take your time taste testing them throughout the day and let us know what you think.”

He opened the door wider and ushered us inside, quickly grabbing a plate.

Inside of five minutes, we stepped out the door three cupcakes and two business cards lighter, one for him and one for the night manager/owner. “Just let us know what you want and how frequently you’d like deliveries. I can fax over or bring by pricing and a schedule.”

“Will do. I’m certain we’ll order something. Great meeting you, Hannah.” His gaze lingered on Chloe as his voice lowered. “Chloe.”

We didn’t take more than a few steps down the sidewalk before she handed me the cupcake box. “Wow!” She stretched her arms out and stared up at the sky as we walked down the sidewalk. “That was amazing. We have to do this more often.”

“Snagging a customer does have a power-trip high to it, doesn’t it?” Her exhilaration was contagious and tempered my worries about this outing. So what if employees needed to be managed? They also had to be encouraged to grow. And Chloe had a knack for sales. “You’re a natural at this. Maybe we can work something like this into the schedule at least once a month.”

My suggestion got me an unexpected hug that made me stumble a few steps to the left, and the box of cupcakes almost teetered out of my hands. We both lunged to support the box and keep it upright.

“I got it!” she shouted as she pulled it from my hands.

“Thank God.” I exhaled a held breath. “Smashed cupcakes would make a sucky first impression.”

Our next stop was a Starbucks, which fell flat because the company has their own bakery. But the owners of the artsy coffeehouse Zen Bean and Sage Leaf took one of each cupcake and asked us to send pricing materials.

By the time we stepped out of the tiny mom-and-pop Italian restaurant Bella Portofino Ristorante with an agreement to create both tiramisu and cannoli cupcakes for a trial run on their menu, my stomach rumbled. We had three cupcakes left, one of each type.

The last stop on our way back to Sweet Dreams was Lila’s.

Lila’s was a new café that had opened a few months back and a place I’d been meaning to try. A garden led from the sidewalk and parking lot to the front door, and we wound along a cobblestone path with mulched borders that had new tulip sprouts breaking through.

A curvy woman with ruddy cheeks and snow-white hair pulled up into a twist came out onto the whitewashed front porch to greet us. “Hello. Come on in. I was just heading out to see if they had the streets blocked off. Been a ghost town in here all morning.”

Chloe and I walked into the restaurant that had the feel of a farmhouse. Framed black-and-white photographs on the walls depicted rural scenes. One focused on a little boy holding a sunflower almost bigger than he was, another of a sleeping dog on a quilt at the foot of a bed.

I turned when the woman followed us in. “Are you the owner here?”

“Sure am.” She picked up two laminated menus from the counter at the back and handed them to us. “Name’s Lila.”

I held out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Lila. I’m Hannah Martin, I own Sweet Dreams, the cupcake shop a few streets over. This is Chloe, cupcake baker extraordinaire and today’s marketing assistant.”

Lila’s eyes lowered to the box in Chloe’s hands. “What are you girls marketing? Cupcakes?”

I nodded, then took a quick glance at their menu. Her café offered an enormous breakfast fare with a smaller section of salads and sandwiches for lunch. “Yes, although I’m not sure how well cupcakes might go with breakfast.”

“Oh, pishposh.” She dismissively flapped her hands down on the last word, then reached for the cupcake box. “I make cinnamon buns that could clog an artery, and they’re a customer favorite. Offer the right cupcakes, and they’ll sell like gold-laced hotcakes.”

Chloe and I exchanged an amused glance as Chloe handed her the box. No other customer this morning sold themselves without a word from us.

“Go on and have a seat and look at the menu. Coffee?”

“Coffee would be great,” I said.

Chloe nodded while we took seats at the bistro set by the sunny front window.

Lila opened the lid a crack, peeking inside. “What flavors do you have in here?”

Chloe repeated the sample selection while Lila’s white eyebrow arched.

“Really? Chocolate bacon will be a surefire hit. Carrot cake too. Not sure about the red velvet. Might be too rich.” She winked at us before turning and disappearing with our box.

Chloe grinned. “Lila’s a character.”

Lila returned with two large cups of steaming coffee. “Cream and sugar are on the table. And I’ll try half a dozen of each of the cupcakes next week. We’ll let the customers be the judge of what they want.

“What can I get you two for lunch?”

We gave Lila our orders, and she went back into the kitchen. Murmured sounds of conversation drifted out from the back, followed by male laughter.

Left alone with Chloe with no cupcakes to sell and no other distractions, the opportunity to talk about non-work things stretched wide open. And as the seconds ticked by closer to the minute mark, the awkwardness escalated. I took a deep breath, then exhaled. “So how is school going?”