“Are you sure you’re not being too hard on yourself?”
“You wouldn’t be saying that if you saw the monstrosity I made earlier.” I described the failed cream puff cake and the mess I’d made, ending with, “My regular recipes are too boring, but anytime I try something fancy, it’s terrible.”
“Are you sure fancy is what you should be trying for? You’re not a trained patissier, are you?”
“Well, no. My restaurant training was on the business management side. Baking was more of a hobby,” I admitted.
“I understand wanting to make an impact with your menu, but there’s more than one way to do that. You don’t have to go the fancy route if that’s not your brand. In fact, it can actually hurt your business if your vision and brand aren’t aligned. So take a minute to think about who you are as a baker and business owner.”
We jogged in silence for a few minutes, Nisa’s tiny legs working hard to keep up with us, as I turned that question over in my mind. Who was I as a baker and business owner? I’d thought the fusion croquembouche was me: creative and sophisticated yet fun. Bernadette would accuse me of being too bougie with that bake, but what did she know? Though if I really thought about it, Sana was right to bring up my lack of technical training. Since I didn’t have the education or equipment, I usually nailed down basic recipes and put a Filipino spin on them. As much as I admired fancier pastries, my style of only-kinda-sorta measuring and never using a scale was probably not going to work. Maybe if I worked on my decorating skills, it would be OK to stick to the simple cookies, brownies, cakes, and scones that made up a typical coffee shop menu. That way they’d be tasty as well as pretty.
I must’ve been silent for too long since Sana changed the subject by saying, “So how do you feel about being part of the pageant committee? I know you won years ago, but I’m sensing a lack of enthusiasm from you about judging.”
There was way too much history to get into there, so I asked her a question instead. “How about you? How did you get roped into judging?”
“Well, like Valerie said, I’m a ‘woman of color and business owner,’ so she asked me to judge months ago.”
I laughed at her impression. “Oh, so you already knew Valerie before this?”
“I do some coaching work for the Thompson Family Company.”
“I thought she didn’t work there?” Rob was the head of the company, despite being the younger sibling. Valerie worked at the Shelbyville Community College, if I remembered correctly.
“She doesn’t, but she attends the sessions anyway. Rob was the one who hired me.”
Her voice had gone flat as she said her client’s name, making me think I could confide in her.
“Rob Thompson, huh? There’ve been rumors going around about him for years, but you know him better than I do. Do you think . . . do we have to worry about him being around the girls?”
Sana stopped so suddenly that a biker had to swerve around her to avoid a collision. After calling out an apology, she said, “Why? Have you seen something? If so, we need to report it immediately.”
“No, nothing like that. He hasn’t done or even said anything all that blatant. The most he’s done is look at Joy, but I . . . something about him makes me uncomfortable. I just can’t shake the feeling that he’s bad news.”
Nisa started whimpering and pulling on her leash, so Sana and I resumed our jog.
She was quiet for a moment before admitting, “I don’t trust him, either. I think we should keep an eye on him and make sure he’s never alone with the girls for any of the events. And the minute we see something shady, we report him to the committee. He may be her brother, but Valerie would back us up.”
I nodded, and a steely resolve came over me. I wasn’t alone in this—together, Sana and I （with Valerie’s support） would keep the girls safe. “I’m so happy I said something to you. This has been bugging me since yesterday and I—what’s that?”
We’d just circled the bend and were getting close to the little footbridge that would lead us across the river. Nisa started barking and pulling on her leash, leading me toward something wrapped around the pillar at the foot of the bridge. I sped up to get a closer look, but was forced back by the arm Sana suddenly threw out.
“Stay back, Lila! And call 911.” Sana jogged toward the river and carefully leaned over the footbridge to get a closer look at what was in the water.