Sweet Heart (The Hearts of Sawyers Bend #2) - Ivy Layne Page 0,84
for anything, anyone who might have broken into my place. I came up blank. Again.
“I really don't, West. If I did, I'd tell you. I swear.”
His eyes stayed on me for a long moment. Apparently satisfied that I was telling the truth or figuring he'd get that truth out of me later, West nodded. “Why don't you go down to work and I'll get a few of my people in to dust for prints and check for any other evidence. I'll let you know when you're clear to come back in.”
“Okay, thanks.” That was all I could say. I wished I knew what was going on or why someone would have broken in, but I didn't.
Compartmentalize.
What did I have to do next?
Go downstairs and finish the custom cake orders I'd promised. Then I could pack up my stuff in the office and figure out the next step.
One thing at a time. That's how I was going to get through this. One thing at a time.
Royal left me at the door with a kiss, turning down my offer of breakfast. “I'll call you later,” he promised. “Don't let them guilt you into coming back.”
“No chance of that,” I said, not sure that was true. At the thought of my parents, I had enough righteous anger to fend off any attempt at guilt. But when I thought of Grams…
An hour later, Grams poked her head through the door. A pang of remorse stabbed my heart. If my mother hadn't followed her, things might have turned out differently.
Instead, my mom raised an eyebrow at me and said, “You owe all of us an apology. Storming out yesterday and going over to stir up your grandmother was just too much. After all she's done for you.”
Sheree shook her head slowly at me, her gaze heavy. I tried not to care that she was so disappointed in me. I wasn't the one who was wrong here. Right?
“I'm not going to apologize to anyone,” I said, smoothing the edge of frosting at the base of the cake so I could avoid looking at her. “And I don't want to have this conversation again. I meant what I said. I quit. I'm only here because I specifically promised these two cakes, and I don't want to let the clients down.”
“You think I can't bake a cake as well as you?” Sheree challenged, her eyes hot.
Someone save me from my mother in a temper. I started to bite my tongue and then decided—what the hell? Why not just say what I was thinking?
“No, you can't,” I said flatly. “I've spent years learning to design and decorate cakes. Years. And I've worked with these two clients almost as long. I want to make sure they get exactly what they paid for, and I know you can't pull it off. Maybe Grams, but she's out of practice, and she didn't meet with the clients on the design. When I'm done, you can find out how good you are, because I won't be here to pick up the slack. I hope you like being at work before five am and being on your feet all day.”
“Daisy, stop this right now!” My mom's burnished skin went a little gray. “I don't want to hear another word about you quitting.”
“Fine, I won't say a word. I'll say this: if you don't get out of this kitchen and leave me in peace, I'll walk out right now and you can finish the cakes yourself. Hopefully, there's still enough cash around to offer a refund.”
If possible, my mother's face went a shade or two grayer. She left, Grams on her heels. I got back to work, more than ready to get away from the bakery.
West came by an hour later. “Techs are done at your place. The lock wasn't tampered with. Are you sure you don't know what this was about? You can talk to me, Daisy.”
Again, he was looking at me like he knew that I knew what was going on. All I had was the truth. “I really have no idea, West. But I promise that if I figure it out, I'll tell you. I will.”
West gave me the same solemn nod he had at my earlier protest and left. I was washing my hands in preparation for more frosting when my father pushed open the door from the front of the bakery.
“Why was Garfield here?” he demanded. “What does the police chief want with you?”