Part 7
The clip reached Vanessa’s customers before she opened the next morning. By noon, people were sharing it with the bakery’s name attached.
Peter showed Lenora the response on his phone.
“It’s spreading quickly.”
She watched only long enough to see the cup in Vanessa’s hand.
“Then people can decide where to spend their money.”
Vanessa found a small group outside Velune. One woman held up her phone as she approached.
“Was that you?”
“Move away from my door.”
“You threw water on a hungry woman.”
“This has nothing to do with you.”
“It does if you want our business.”
The woman turned and left. Others followed. Across the pavement, somebody called for people to stop buying from the bakery.
Inside, the telephone rang with cancellations. A celebration cake order went first, then a business breakfast, then several regular weekly deliveries.
By the end of the week, the display case still held food at closing.
One of Vanessa’s employees brought her the order book.
“We’ve had another cancellation.”
“Fine.”
“And the suppliers have called again.”
“Tell them I’ll pay.”
“They want to know when.”
Vanessa didn’t answer.
The landlord’s notice lay beneath her elbow. She’d already asked for another extension and been refused. She moved the paper aside to look at the week’s receipts, then covered the receipts again.
There wasn’t enough to keep buying stock. There wasn’t enough for the rent.
When the employee returned, Vanessa was standing in the middle of the kitchen with her bag over her shoulder.
“Are we closing early?”
“We’re closing.”
“For how long?”
Vanessa looked toward the darkened front case.
“For good.”
A permanent-closure notice went up in the window. Later that day, two women paused to read it, then continued down the street.
“We should get to Maravelle,” one said. “The cupcakes were nearly gone last time.”
Mara heard about Velune from a customer while she was tying a box with ribbon.
“Closed completely?” she asked.
“That’s what the sign says.” The woman watched her. “After the way she treated you, I thought you might be pleased.”
Mara trimmed the ribbon ends.
“I like my life now,” she said. “That’s plenty.”
She passed the box across the counter and reminded the woman to keep it level on the way home.
Julian arrived later, when the afternoon rush had thinned. Mara saw him through the glass and reached for a cup before he came inside.
“Visiting the girlfriend?”
“And reporting some news.”
She set down the cup.
“Do I need to sit for this one?”
“Grandma officially named me chief executive of the family company today.”
Mara came around the counter and hugged him, leaving a pale flour mark on his dark sleeve.
“I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
They sat at the table by the window. He looked toward the kitchen, where the mixers she’d admired were doing their afternoon work.
“Quite a change from Velune.”
“You miss being ordered around?”
“I seem to recall you enjoyed that.”
“You kept giving me reasons.”
“I was doing my best.”
“You tried to serve a coffee without putting a cup under the machine.”
“One time.”
“One memorable time.”
He reached across the table for her hand.
“And you fell in love with me anyway.”
“Against some very strong evidence.”
“I thought I was charming.”
“You were persistent. Your coffee was terrible.”
He turned her hand over and kissed her flour-dusted fingers.
“I got one thing right.”
Mara leaned across the small table and kissed him back.
“Yes,” she said. “You did.”