Honey Pie (Cupcake Club) - By Donna Kauffman Page 0,75
there was taking on the impossible task. No one could completely protect her . . . and more to the point, she didn’t expect anyone to, much less want them to.
Her aunt had successfully offered her “advice” right along with her tailoring skills, but it sounded like Bea never had the kind of “moments” Honey had. Their familial gifts were entirely different. Bea’s was much milder than her own, Honey had said. And she had come all the way across the country with the idea of trying to have a normal life, with a normal storefront business, normal friends she could actually spend time with. He didn’t know if that made her courageous and brave, or a glutton for the worst kind of emotional and public punishment. But she had his admiration for trying.
“It sounds like you had it all planned out.” He realized how much of a shock it must have been to arrive, only to find Bea’s little shop had been renovated completely and turned into a cupcake shipping outlet. “I know this is a bigger space and it hasn’t been used in a long time, but if you tried to break it down into smaller, doable chunks, the end result would put you in a much better place, right?”
“In terms of size, yes. But I owned the space in my scenario and, no offense, but now I’d be a tenant.”
“A tenant who is still a property owner. I know it won’t bring you income for a few years, but I’m assuming you plan to be in this business for the long haul. In a couple years, you’ll have the lease income. You’ll also get investment capital from selling the farm, and eventually, a profit from this place, as well. I’m assuming you plan to keep your online store going, too, so that’s a good foundation to build on.”
“You make it all seem so doable.”
“Because it is. But only if you want it to be.” He looked around again, then back at her. “You could really do something with a space like this, couldn’t you?”
For all her casual dismissal earlier, her guard had been sufficiently lowered, and the poignant longing, the barely concealed, banked excitement was plain to see.
“I know it took a lot to come here, to try. More space would be a good thing for . . . the rest of it, too, right? Easier to control contact if there was less potential crowding.”
“Yes, it would, but—”
“You put your farm up for sale and drove a couple thousand miles, intent on starting your own place, starting a new life. That’s not something someone does who is iffy on the idea.”
“Juniper Hollow, where I’m from, is a very small town in a somewhat rugged and isolated area. I didn’t think a sale was going to happen right away. If ever. So, it wasn’t like I absolutely couldn’t go back. A risk, yes, but—”
“But, what if it had? What if the farm sells, and you’re here, and it’s not going as you’d hoped. Do you have a backup plan?”
She smiled then, and he liked the spark that came back into her sea green eyes as she lifted a shoulder. “Georgia is in the South, right? I figure it has a lot of barns. Probably one I could buy and move into somewhere around here.” She sighed. “The truth is, whatever happened, I didn’t want to go back to Oregon. Ever. I wanted . . . something new. Something else. Anything else.”
He held her gaze, then let his own smile come out, as certain about his decision as she was about hers. If she could take that kind of risk and had that kind of determination, then hell, he had no choice. He wasn’t leaping the tall building in this case, but the surprise was it felt every bit as good to help her leap her own.
“Then let’s do this. Knowing how you feel about helping hands, we’ll work out a little lease agreement that includes paying back rent for whatever time it takes to get up and running. We can get Morgan to put it in writing and make it all legal. When your farm sells, or when this place is making a profit, you can handle the lease and the back rent repayment however it works best. Like I said, I’m not making money from this place as it is.”
“Dylan—” She broke off and simply stared at him, clearly torn.