Syndi Powell - The Sweetheart Deal

Cannolis? She wrinkled her nose. Those always sent the wrong message, especially if it was a gift for the opposite sex.

Strudel? Nah, she didn’t want to come across as flaky as the pastry.

She willed Grammy to direct her hands as she flipped through pages, as if the woman could tell her from the other side what to do about the business. The back door opened, and Kelly breezed in, her cheeks flushed and lips swollen. Megs gave a smirk but returned her gaze to the cookbook. “Said good-night to Sam?”

Kelly brought her fingers to her face and nodded. “That man sure can kiss.”

“Hmm, I’ll have to take your word on that.” Despite the fact that she’d known Sam longer and perhaps in some ways better, it was her sister’s attention he had snagged. She flipped through more pages and sighed. “So now that you’ve gotten the all-clear on the house, what are you two going to do with it?”

Her sister hung up her bright pink wool pea coat on a peg, then took a seat across the dining room table from her, snatching a cookie from an overflowing plate. “Good question. The will won’t be out of probate for a few more months, so it’s not as if we have to decide right this minute.”

Megs looked up at her. “Do you think you have the money to buy out Sam’s half? Or are you two planning on something more permanent?”

Kelly teased, “Now that I don’t have my paycheck from the bakery, I have even less money than before. And Sam hasn’t mentioned the future lately. Maybe he’s having second thoughts.” She munched on her cookie for a moment before she said, “The best thing would be to sell the place. As much as I hate to say it.”

Megs shook her head. “Sam’s planning a future, all right. And you’re the only one he’s intending to spend it with.”

Kelly shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Definitely.”

They both looked around the renovated dining room that now opened into the living room. It would be a shame to have to leave not only their family home, but the beautiful showcase that Kelly and Sam had turned it into. But for them to each get their share of the inheritance, it meant selling would probably be their best option. Kelly frowned. “I don’t want to think about that right now. Crazy meeting tonight, huh? So are you going to finally meet with Adam and discuss that loan?”

“That’s what I’m working on.” She held up the cookbook and pointed to a recipe. “Does he look like a Napoleon kind of person?”

Kelly took the book from her. “He’s too tall. You thinking of buttering him up with one of your pastries?”

“I need him to see that I’m more than just doughnuts and cookies. That I’ve got a head for business as well as baked goods.” She picked up Grammy’s old recipe ledger that now had a warped cover from the water damage. She opened it and with a finger traced the blurry handwriting. The ink had run on certain pages, and she wanted to howl at the loss of not only the recipes but Grammy’s notes. This book was her legacy from the woman who had taught her to cream sugar and sift flour. Her mentor who ate the first piece of her peasant bread and sampled her crème fraîche. She ran a hand down one page. “I keep hoping that something will jump out as the perfect recipe.”

“Like this?” Kelly turned the page around of the cookbook she’d been looking at and pointed to their grandmother’s handwriting. “She wrote that these were perfect for desperate times.”

“I’m not desperate.” At her sister’s doubtful expression, she shook her head. “I’m not. Worse comes to worst, I take the insurance money and start over somewhere else.”

“But then it wouldn’t be the Sweetheart.”

“It would. Just in a different location.” She took the book from her sister. “But it wouldn’t hurt to try. Right?”

She read over the recipe for baci, a small Italian cookie that Grammy recommended dipping in chocolate. It looked easy. Simple but elegant. And she had all the ingredients already. It could work.

At this point, it couldn’t hurt.

* * *

MEGS TOOK THE cream canvas bag from her backseat and carefully placed it over her arm as she shut the door. She glanced up at the bank and took a deep breath to calm the buzzing bees that filled her belly. She could do this. She could go in there and prove to Adam that the Sweetheart deserved that loan. That she could meet the repayment terms without a struggle.

She had to do this.

Another deep breath, and she walked forward. She’d arrived ten minutes before her appointment time, but she hoped that he would see it as a sign of her determination rather than desperation. She opened the front door and allowed Mr. Finney to enter before she followed him inside.

The lobby looked the same as it always did when she brought in the daily deposit, but it felt different today. Ominous. Foreboding? Megs really had to stop reading those regency romance novels for a while. She felt as though she was going off to face the lion in his den, and knowing Adam as she did, it might not be that inaccurate of a description.

She signed in on the clipboard then took a seat to wait her turn, putting the bag at her feet. She glanced inside at the plastic container of baci that rested on top. She’d had Kelly and Sam taste test them before she had filled the container for Adam and his staff. If Kelly’s and Sam’s moans of pleasure had been any indication, she had something special in her arsenal against the bank manager.

Adam’s office door opened, and the man himself stood in the frame. He looked taller, thinner than his high school days, and he wore a tie and suit rather than a letterman’s jacket and worn jeans. It was the look in his eyes that made her pause. The wariness remained there.

“Megan Sweet?” He called her name as if he didn’t know her. As if he’d never hurt her.

She took another deep breath and rose to her feet. Grabbed the handles of the tote bag and brushed past him into his office, trying to ignore the spicy scent wafting from him that hit her nose as she did so. She took the chair in front of his desk and removed the plastic container from her bag and placed it in her lap. Popping open the top, she let the aroma of chocolate fill the tiny office. She removed a napkin with the Sweetheart logo and placed a baci on it before putting it in front of Adam.

He frowned. “What’s this? A bribe already?”

He claimed he’d changed, but he’d just proved that nothing had. He still used words to hurt and belittle. She bristled in her chair and pointed at the pastry. “It’s a treat for you and your staff from the Sweetheart.”

He eyed it, then took it in his hand. She watched as he lifted to his mouth and raised one eyebrow. He chewed it slowly, his tongue darting out of his mouth to lick any crumbs left on his lips. He nodded. “Good.”

“This is just a sample of what I can do.” She brought out her recipe ledger and spread it open. “My grandmother not only left me the bakery, but all her time-tested recipes guaranteed to make the Sweetheart a success for years to come. And success means money, which means you and I both profit. See this recipe for True Love’s torte? It’s a hot seller especially around Valentine’s Day, which is just around the corner and...”

Adam held a hand up. “Recipes and products that sell are good.” He paused. “For you, that is. They don’t mean a thing to me or the bank.”

Megs sat back in her seat and crossed her legs at the ankles. She regretted having worn her practical boots rather than the high heels that Kelly had suggested. “Sex sells,” her sister had told her as she pulled out a different outfit from what she currently wore. Maybe she should have worn the low V-neck wrap dress rather than the turtleneck sweater under the wool blazer.