“That’s why you’re going out of business, you know,” Matt says after they’ve left.
“What?”
“You can’t just go giving people free pastries. They were totally playing you.”
“They weren’t playing me,” I respond indignantly.
“Sure they were. You’re too generous. They knew if they argued in front of you, you’d be nice and give them both pastries. And you did.”
I sigh. I don’t even bother explaining that there’s no way I’ll go through the remainder of the cheesecake today anyhow. “My grandmother always ran this bakery like it was her kitchen and the customers were her guests,” I say instead.
“That’s not a good business model,” Matt says.
I shrug. “I never said it was. But I’m proud of that tradition.”
The door dings again, and I look up to see Alain shuffling in. He’s taken to walking here himself in the mornings. I worry about him doing so at his age—the walk is more than a mile—but he seems to be perfectly healthy, and he swears that he walks far more than this each day in Paris.
He crosses behind the counter and gives me a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Good morning, dear,” he says. He seems to notice Matt for the first time then. “Hello, young man,” he says. He turns to me and says, “I see you have a customer.”
“Matt was just leaving,” I tell him. I shoot Matt a look, which I hope transmits the fact that I don’t want him talking bakery business in front of Alain. But of course, he’s oblivious.
“I’m Matt Hines,” he says, extending a hand to Alain over the bakery case. “And you are . . . ?”
Alain hesitates before shaking Matt’s hand. “I am Alain Picard,” he says. “Hope’s uncle.”
Matt looks confused. “Now, wait. I’ve known Hope since we were kids. She doesn’t have any uncles.”
Alain smiles thinly. “Yes, young man, she does indeed. In fact, I am her arriere-oncle. Her great-uncle, as you would say.”
Matt frowns and looks at me.
“He’s my grandmother’s brother,” I explain. “From Paris.”
Matt stares at Alain for a second, then turns back to me. “Hope, this isn’t making a whole lot of sense. You’re telling me you went to Paris on a whim, you’re about to lose your business because of it, and you’ve randomly brought back a relative you never knew you had?”
I feel my cheeks heating up, and I’m not sure whether it’s because he’s apparently insulting me, or because he’s just announced in front of Alain that I’m about to lose the bakery. I turn slowly and look at Alain, hopeful that the words were lost in translation, but he’s staring at me with a frozen look on his face.
“Hope, what does he mean?” he asks softly. “About losing the business? Is the bakery in trouble?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say. I shoot Matt a look, and at least he has the grace to appear slightly shamed. He clears his throat and turns away, as if to give Alain and me a moment’s privacy.
“Hope, we are family,” Alain says. “Of course I will worry if something is wrong. Why did you say nothing to me?”
I take a deep breath. “Because it’s my fault,” I say. “I made some bad financial decisions. My credit rating has totally tanked, and that’s tied in to my business credit.”
“But that does not explain why you did not tell me,” Alain says. He takes a step forward and puts a warm, gnarled hand on my cheek. “I am your uncle.”
I can feel tears in my eyes now. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to burden you. With everything going on with my grandmother . . .”
“All the more reason to lean on me,” he says. He touches my cheek lightly with the palm of his hand and turns back to Matt. “Young man!” he calls out.
“Yes?” Matt turns, wide-eyed, as if he hasn’t been listening to every word.
“You can go now. My niece and I have some talking to do.”
“But, I—” Matt begins. But Alain cuts him off again.
“I do not know who you are or what you have to do with this,” Alain says.
“I’m the vice president of the Bank of the Cape,” Matt says stiffly. He stands up a little straighter. “We hold Hope’s loan. And unfortunately, it’s necessary that we call it in. It wasn’t my decision, sir. It’s just business.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and glance at Alain. His face has gone red.