Sisters by Choice (Blackberry Island #4)(19)

Bear disappeared into his office. He returned with a chair, a pad of paper and a pen. “Here. You’ll get a desk later.”

Heather gestured frantically for the paper and pen. “Uh-huh. The wrong mugs. I’m sorry. Let me look into that. Do you have your order number?”

She wrote down the information and promised that someone would call back. When she hung up, she tried to give the information to her mother.

“No way,” Amber told her. “I’m not dealing with a bunch of cranky customers. I’ll answer the phones for CK Industries but you need someone else to process complaints. That is not my thing. Plus, I need a desk.”

“The desks are coming,” Sophie said, trying not to grit her teeth. “Until then, can you please make do?”

Amber held up her hands. “You’re in a mood. I didn’t know you’d be difficult to work for. I’m not sure this is going to work out for me.”

Bear wheeled the chair into the empty office. “Please try,” he said.

Sophie reached for the piece of paper. “I’ll find out about the order.”

Bear snatched the information from her. “No, you’ll interview people. I’ll find out about the order.”

“But...”

He pointed to the loading dock door where people were waiting. “Sophie, hire some people.”

“I’m hiring, I’m hiring.”

But before she could return to the waiting applicants, a big flatbed truck drove into the parking lot. Sophie grinned at Bear.

“There it is, in all its glory.”

“What is it?” Amber asked.

“A forklift. I’m in love.”

Bear looked from the delivery truck to her and back. “Let me guess. You can drive a forklift.”

“Of course. Bear, there’s no position in my company that I can’t do.”

He returned his attention to her. “I’m sure that’s true.”

“You say that like it’s not a good thing.”

He shook his head, then pointed at the open loading dock door. “Get me some help.”

“You’re so bossy.”

But she spoke the words with a smile. She had a new forklift. It was going to be a good day.

  Kristine drove to the private airstrip just beyond the bridge to the mainland. Her second part-time job was catering to the private jets that used the tiny airport. With the exception of Bruno, there were only a handful of flights a year, but Bruno made his way to the area at least once a month, sometimes more often. The pilot contacted her a couple of days before each flight, letting her know what Bruno would like to have on board. Kristine provided the food and billed the company leasing the jet.

She had no professional culinary training, but a friend of hers had told her about the job a couple of years ago and Kristine had applied. Her interview had required her to provide lunch. She’d offered a version of high tea but instead of smoked salmon or egg salad sandwiches, she’d made little sandwich squares of turkey and Brie, and her mother’s famous chicken curry. She added her blackberry brownies, a couple of bottles of local wine and had been hired in fewer than three bites.

Kristine wasn’t interested in catering, but the markup for the private jet meals was 300 percent. Plus, she had an unlimited budget on food. It was fun to head to Seattle every couple of months and stock up on exotic ingredients to supplement what she got locally.

Bruno Provencio was a wine distributor. He flew into the area to make deals with winemakers. At least she thought that was what he did. He’d been vague and she was afraid to ask for specifics, fearing she would sound like the country—or island—bumpkin she was. He was not much taller than she was, but very good-looking and so well dressed. He always had on a gorgeous suit she suspected cost more than her mortgage and car payment combined. And he was nice. Whenever he flew in, he always asked about her family and complimented her on the previous meal. Yes, she was a happily married woman, but every now and then it was fun to hang out with a handsome man who flew in a private jet and talked about wine and going to Italy or France the way she talked about going to Costco.

She arrived a few minutes before the jet was due to land and parked her SUV. The day was cloudy, but there didn’t seem to be much energy in the clouds, so she doubted it would rain. As she sat in the quiet of her car, she thought about what Ruth had mentioned—the bakery space now for lease in town.

She was tempted. Leasing the old bakery would mean having real ovens and mixers and counter space. She would work during the day and not have to worry about where to put the equipment when she was done. She could give up her frantic night of baking right before the weekend. She could start shipping her cookies and brownies. The wineries were asking for more cookies with each order, but she was limited by time and space. She didn’t think she could physically work two nights in a row, and baking in her kitchen during the day was a problem. Just getting everything set up took an hour and then she had to clean up and get ready for dinner. A designated location made the most sense.

She wanted to get out her business plan and run the numbers. She knew how much she needed to get things going, she knew what equipment she wanted. She even went online regularly to check out used equipment for sale in the greater Seattle area. But first she had to talk to Jaxsen about start-up money and for that she would need to know what the lease would cost. Assuming he let her do it.