Jake chuckled. “Is that what I was doing?”
There was a pause as they both smiled. Then Jake cleared his throat, took another sip of beer.
“Let’s see, for fun . . . I take Bonnie for jogs. I spend a lot of time with my grandmother, as you know. She’s actually a pretty awesome roommate. We’re really compatible with our puzzle and Netflix preferences. Highly important details.” Charlie nodded, because she was supposed to be Cass, and of course Cass would know all of this. But Charlie wondered what the story was there, about how Jake came to live with his grandmother. At least she now knew for sure he didn’t live with anyone else, like a girlfriend. She felt buoyed by this realization—then reminded herself she wasn’t supposed to be falling for anyone right now. Even if he had the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen . . .
“Cass?”
“Sorry. Just a bit distracted.” Charlie sat up straighter.
“The blood sugar thing?” Jake asked.
“That, yes . . . and the fact that I ruined a lot of loaves yesterday and had to stay up far too late tripling the recipe.” She scowled. “I don’t know how—”
Charlie had been about to say, “I don’t know how Cass manages to do all of this without a website or online ordering . . .” but caught herself.
“I think it’s time for a Web presence for the bakery,” she said instead. “I know it’s the way things have always been done, taking orders by phone, but it slows down the process. A website with online ordering would make things much more efficient.”
“I could help you, if you want.”
“How so?” Charlie asked. Jake seemed about to answer, but then Darla was back, placing the chilis in front of them, steam rising from the deep bowls. She then returned a moment later with the pullaparts, a circle of soft milk buns, dripping with butter and melted cheddar cheese. Charlie breathed in deeply through her nose, wishing she could smell all the mingling, comforting scents surely rising from their food—savory notes from the chili, a sweet aroma from the baked rolls, the garlicky butter sharp and mouthwatering. But there was nothing.
Jake put a dollop of sour cream onto his chili, followed by some pepper flakes and ground black pepper, then picked up his spoon. But he stopped when he saw Charlie just staring into her bowl.
“Something wrong with your chili?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Bon appétit!” Charlie also added some sour cream to her bowl, then took a large spoonful, feeling hopeful. But all she could feel was the sensation of the hot chili in her mouth. No flavors, no hint of spice. She forced down another spoonful, because she knew her body needed the food, even if it was unappetizing. After the second bite, her stomach grumbled happily.
Jake offered her the plate of buns. “Thanks,” she said, taking one. “So, tell me more about how you can help. With the website?”
“I could take pictures for you.”
“You’re a photographer?” As if this guy could get any better, Charlie mused. She took a bite of the bun, the top crust shiny with melted butter. She was about to ask about his photography when she noticed Jake had stopped eating, his spoon poised above his chili.
“What?” Charlie asked, taking another bite of the garlic bun. Her fingers dripped with butter, and she used a paper napkin to wipe away the grease. If only she could taste what she was eating.
Jake looked at her strangely, placing his spoon back in the bowl. “You know I do photography, Cass,” he said. “I’ve been taking photos for Brett’s listings. For house stagings?” Then he shook his head. “Sorry, maybe he hasn’t mentioned it? I sort of assumed . . .” Jake seemed uncomfortable bringing up Brett, and Charlie tried to catch up.
“No, of course. Staging photos. Yes. I just—”
This second embarrassing moment of the evening was interrupted by the sound of her sister’s name being called across the bar. She looked up: it was Brett, standing by the door. Why was he always showing up at the worst times?
Brett approached their table, his cheeks colored by the cold, his hair perfectly gelled in place, a neutral plaid scarf meticulously tied around his neck. “What are you two doing?”
Charlie opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. Jake stood and gave Brett’s hand a shake. “Want to join us?” he asked.
“No thanks, I’ve got some work to do.” Brett glanced at Charlie. “Hey, babe, I was trying to call you, but it went to voicemail. A bunch of times.”