The Ingredients of You and Me (Hopeless Romantics #3) - Nina Bocci

To my real Golden Girls:

Mama G, Zias Suzie, Pauline, Dinah, Clara, and Lillian

Coffee is on, bagels are artfully arranged on the platter, cream cheese is chilled, and nerves are shot,” I said to the blissfully quiet space. Knocking my knuckles nervously on the marble tabletop, I proceeded to do one more walk through the bakery.

In five minutes, the place would be teeming with people. My people.

Fifty minutes after that, it would be teeming with more people. Not my people.

I should have allowed myself more time to break the news to my longtime staff that things were changing.

Drastically.

It was like many of life’s great, unexpected changes. One day you were going through the motions of the day-to-day—albeit a bit stressed because of work—and the next you were fielding an offer that would take all the stress and the exhaustion away. The trajectory of my life and those in it was about to change profoundly. And not just because I had a newly beefed-up bank account.

But there was no time for worrying about that now. While I was going through a cluster of emotions, I needed to remain focused on delivering the news to my staff that I had sold my business a month ago. The one that I, quite literally, had poured blood, sweat, and tears into over the last six years.

This was the best possible move for me, and I hoped my employees would be happy for me—after the initial shock, of course.

After all, they still had their jobs if they wanted them. I just didn’t have mine, or any clue of what I was going to do next.

Thankfully, just as I was about to futz around with the bagel display one more time, the staff began filing in and I took a second to look over the cards I held in my shaky hands. I decided that five more minutes to go over my notes would help.

“Guys, grab some coffee and breakfast. I’ll just be a second,” I said, stepping behind the curtain that led to the storeroom to compose myself. The nerves and anxiousness I was experiencing weren’t feelings that I was used to. I usually fed off the energy, but this was different. Their lives and livelihoods were in for a major upheaval.

Pulling out my notes, I went through the talking points in a whisper while the staff milled about on the other side of the curtain.

“As you know, Delicious and Vicious isn’t any run-of-the-mill bakery in New York. While we aren’t winning any awards for being the best in the city—creamiest icing, nuttiest of brownies—we are known for something no one else does. The delish part is easy but with you guys by my side, we’ve made our bakery into a destination. It’s the vicious that sets us apart.”

I thought about the vicious part. It really was the reason we stood a head above other bakeries of similar size in the city. We sent any, and I do mean any, sort of message to anyone through our desserts. Need to break up with a boyfriend? Order our “I really hate kissing you” special. Want to quit your job with just the right message to your horrible boss? We’d bake you the “Sorry for your loss” cake along with your two weeks’ notice letter. Found out that your husband was cheating? You’d get the “P.S. I was always faking it” or the “I hope it falls off.”

“We give vicious a whole new definition.” I smiled thinking about that line, knowing that while I once loved that aspect, I’d grown weary of it.

“Everyone knows about Magnolia Bakery and Sprinkles, but people also know about D and V, and that’s because of this team. In record time, we have become a staple in the city, and I am so proud of what we’ve built.” My voice wavered, just as I knew it would when I delivered this for real.

“But while this has been a run unlike anything else in my life, in a week, D and V will be transformed into a bigger flagship location under new ownership.” I was finally clipping these wings.

By the time I walked out, the staff was already seated. My two head bakers and one part-timer sat on one side of the table I’d set up, and the two decorators sat on the other. The company IT master-slash-order-taker was opposite where I stood.

We were a team of misfits that wouldn’t cut it in a traditional bakery. Save for me, no one had formal training, and