Kendall let out a relieved sigh. “I saw it on the info sheet, and I double-checked everything in the kitchen. What else?”
The turn to my parents’ driveway appeared up ahead, hidden between towering fir trees. “Call the office and tell them you need Rice Krispies treats cut into stars and dipped halfway in chocolate. We should have light pink and light purple in the pantry. They can use the leftover cake pop sticks.”
“I can do that,” she said. “That’s enough, right?”
Given her parents had paid us a small fortune to pull off the mermaid party of their only daughter’s fantasy? No.
The baker and their car accident left us short a stunning three-tier cake and three dozen macarons.
“Donuts,” I said. “Call the manager at the Krispy Kreme we always use and tell him the colors we need for frosting. When you get the Rice Krispies treats, have them bring the little decorative pearls and pastel sprinkles. You can toss those on right before you set them out. Two dozen of those, too.”
Kendall paused. “You want … six dozen desserts for twelve eight-year-old girls?”
I rubbed my forehead at her incredulous tone. She’d learn, and she’d learn quickly in this job. “Yes. Because the amount is not the issue. It’s about the experience, Kendall. The parents want their daughter’s friends running home and talking about how amazing and fun it was and how cute the food was and telling their mom and dad, ‘I want a mermaid party too.’ The extra will go home with those friends. The pictures they post on social media will be better than any ad I can run trying to get new customers.”
“Right. Got it.”
Kendall didn’t sound like she got it, and I yanked the steering wheel just a bit too hard as I turned down the long, tree-lined drive that would take me back to the main house.
“Kendall,” I said, “you can do this. You know who to call?”
“Mimi, the office, Krispy Kreme. Push the food back by twenty minutes, keep them busy with activities.”
“Excellent.” I turned to the house, smiling when it came into view. When my mom married Tim, I was young, not too far from the age of the girls at that party, and moving into a house made of actual logs felt like the coolest thing in the entire world. And as much as I loved Seattle—which I did—I’d never fully been able to let go of the feeling that this would always be the place that felt like home. “I just got to my parents’， but I’ll have my phone on me.”
“Thank you, Adaline. You’re like, so good at this.”
“It’s a gift and a curse, Kendall.” I sighed.
She laughed as we disconnected the call, and for just a moment, I relished the distraction she’d given me.
Probably because the business I’d built was the place I felt the most myself. I liked how busy it was, how every single day, every single event was different. If I had to sit at a desk and stare at the same view every day from eight to five, I’d lose my mind.
It was the same reason I’d enjoyed working for Molly—Emmett’s aunt. Managing the daily life of the Ward-Griffin clan was exactly the kind of controlled chaos that I thrived in.
And I liked thriving, competent, never-gets-flustered Adaline.
I didn’t like the Adaline who ran from former crushes.
Kendall and the destroyed desserts were a nice way to pull my mind out of Emmett-land as I drove the last stretch home.
My home. Where he was.
The very worst part was that we’d both be under the same roof. Somehow, I knew that no matter how big that house was, his presence would shrink it.
I took a deep, fortifying breath and pushed the car door open. It was quiet around the house, no sign of life that I could see. My youngest sister Poppy was the only one who still lived at home with Mom and Tim, but her car wasn’t in its normal spot.