Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Jess wasn't sure when she'd last stepped into Port Wheels, but when she arrived the following morning, she was certain there was barely a third of the bikes usually cramming the tiny shop. They were still parked neatly next to each other along the walls, but none were dangling from the ceiling like in summers past.

Kevin was leaning over a bike at his workshop in the back, his hands black from bike grease as he twisted a brake tighter with a wrench. He blew on the strand of wavy hair that flopped in front of his eyes, only for it to fall back down in front of his face.

"I think someone stole all of your bikes," Jess quipped.

Kevin grinned as he kept twisting. "Good morning, Jessica. Boy, is it going to be fun getting your sunshine personality every morning."

She snorted, looking around her. "Seriously, Kevin, where did they all go?"

Kevin tossed the wrench onto his small desk, wiping his hands with a dark rag. "I'm not selling as many, so I opted for less inventory this summer. There are a few older models in the back I need to bring up here, though."

He started making his way to the back of the shop. She followed. "Won't it be hard to try making more money if you have less bikes to sell?"

"Most of the shop's money comes from repairs," Kevin explained. "Usually people will bring their bikes in for a repair then head to Seabreeze Café for a coffee and wait. But now with the bakery—"

"People might just stick around here and buy from us," Jess finished. "Very smart."

Kevin turned toward her and beamed. "Did you just call me smart ?"

"Don't let it get to your head," she grumbled, shaking her head at the way Kevin laughed as he pushed a set of double doors that led to the back of the shop.

But it wasn't a storage room he was taking her to. It was the kitchen.

Jess stood there for a beat, awestruck. A commercial oven, counter space, and an industrial-sized mixer were along one wall. A deep chest freezer sat parallel to her left. She stepped around the extra bikes toward the back and eyed a decent-sized walk-in. Nothing was humming, which meant everything was currently unplugged.

"What do you think?" Kevin asked softly.

Jess turned to him, noticing he was smiling at her. It made her squirm a little. "It's fine, it will do."

"Jessica, you're such a liar. You should see your face right now. You're glowing ."

"I am not glowing," she snipped.

"You are too," Kevin jested. "You're probably already imagining that menu of yours."

She scowled and turned away from him, not wanting to tell him that she spent the previous night hunched over a notepad, dreaming up exactly that. Her own bakery.

"As long as you promise me there will be kanelbullar, you can do whatever you want," Kevin continued.

Her heart fluttered thinking about how she'd soon be able to make her favorite pastry again—and any other pastry she wanted.

She pulled her mouth into a scowl, trying her best to contain her excitement. She didn't want to give Kevin that satisfaction quite yet. "I can't exactly make anything with all of these bikes in here."

"Oh, you don't want to bake around the bikes? I thought it would give this place a little charm," he teased.

She rolled her eyes, grabbing the handlebars of a shiny purple one. "Very funny."

The two of them pushed bikes out of the kitchen and into the main shop.

"You're not wearing your glasses," Kevin observed.

She nodded, flicking a kickstand out for a bike and parking it. "They broke in my frenzied move out of the apartment."

He nodded, his face flushed. "I'm sorry, Jess," he whispered.

She frowned. "Why? You're getting what you want."

"I already told you, all I want is for you to be happy," he responded softly. "Even if my methods were…"

"Asinine?"

He huffed a laugh. "Something like that."

She observed the golden boy, the way his shoulders slumped, his hazel eyes dim as he stared back at her, looking like he really, truly screwed up.

"This whole thing has made me realize something," she said.

He cocked a brow. "Yeah? What's that?"

"That I actually hate wearing glasses."

His laughter was bright, ringing through the tiny bike shop like shining silver bells, the sound making her smile.

"Why are these back here anyway?" Jess asked, turning her face from his as she made her way back into the kitchen.

"I've had these models for ages, they just don't sell," Kevin said as he followed. "But it would be dumb to get rid of them, so they sit back here."

"Could you rent them out?"

Kevin's brow furrowed. "Rent them?"

Jess shrugged. "Yeah. Shops along the Cape do it all the time. Vacationers will rent bikes for a day or even a week so they don't have to travel with their own," she said. "It was also a big date-night thing for, well—"

She looked down at the handlebars, squeezing and releasing one of the brakes.

Kevin tapped a finger to his lips. "Maybe we could make it some kind of package deal. Date night at Port Wheels. Rent two bikes for a couple of hours, get two free treats of your choice."

Jess smiled, nodding her head. "Now we're talking."

When they finished pushing all of the bikes to the front, Jess pressed her hands into her back, scanning the room. "So how exactly is this going to work? The shop is tiny as is, but we'll need some kind of storefront for the bakery."

Kevin nodded. "Most of these bikes will go outside during store hours, which will give us some room. I was thinking," he started, turning toward the right wall next to the shop windows, "the bakery will go here."

Jess watched as he held out his hands. "Counter and register," he explained, then shuffled closer to her. "Glass display case next to it," he said, shuffling again. His arm brushed up against hers as he held out his arms. "We'll leave this space open for you to easily get in and out."

Jess took a step back, aware of the heat from his body.

"Sorry," he mumbled, then walked past her and continued on with his vision. "Back counter here with the espresso machine and other coffee accoutrements, and a little work space for you when you're taking orders or working on admin."

Jess let out a shaky breath. "This feels like a lot of work."

"It's a good thing I have contractors coming tomorrow," Kevin said. "If all goes to plan, everything should be done by this time next week."

She gaped at him. "You already have contractors? There's no way they agreed this last-minute."

Kevin simply winked at her, a twinkle in his eye. "Maybe it wasn't last-minute."

She stuttered, feeling stunned. "But…but how did you…"

"I had faith in the kanelbullar. I knew you wouldn't be able to go that long without baking your next batch."

Her mouth fell open as Kevin propped the front door and started pushing bikes outside of the shop, getting things ready for opening. Even before she left Charlie, before she decided to take him up on the offer, Kevin had things set in motion believing that she would. Contractors hired, plans in place. She wondered if there was something else going on behind the scenes she wasn't aware of, or maybe someone else who was pulling the strings. Kevin did mention a mysterious investor for the whole project, and there was only one person Jess could think of who'd want to drive Charlie out of her life.

She inhaled sharply as he walked back in to grab another bike. "Kevin?"

He looked up at her. "Mmm?"

"Who's the investor behind this project?"

Kevin opened his mouth and closed it a few times, like a fish. "They, um, asked to remain anonymous."

"But shouldn't I—" She caught herself, thinking through what to say next. She technically was only an employee of Port Wheels, not an outright owner like Kevin was, so she wasn't really in a place to make demands. But she needed to be sure.

She scrunched her hands into fists and slammed her eyes shut. "Can you promise me that it isn't Charlie's father?"

There was a beat of silence between them as Jess held her breath. She heard shuffling, then a pair of warm, calloused hands on her bare shoulders. "Jess," Kevin breathed.

She peeked her eyes open. His own gaze was soft, his expression careful.

"I would never do that to you. Charlie Sullivan the Third will never be in business with us or in charge of this property. He would have to rip it from my cold, dead hands."

She coughed out a laugh at his morbidity, which made him smile.

"Okay," she exhaled. "That's all I needed to hear."

"Good." Kevin nodded, dropping his hands. She watched him grimace after he did, looking at her shoulders.

She frowned. "What?"

"I might have, um, left some grease stains on your tank top."

Jess looked down at her shirt, at the remnants of bike grease from his touch. She shrugged. "I've had this thing for almost a decade, I literally don't care."

"You sure?"

"I don't care about any of my clothes," she said matter-of-factly. "They're all old from high school. I had to stop caring about clothes long ago."

"Jess that's…so sad."

She glared at him. "We're not here to be sad, we're here to work." She pulled her hair into a ponytail. "I'm going to grab supplies to clean that kitchen."

Kevin's face brightened, as if he couldn't believe this was really happening. "Want me to help?"

"Kevin, no, you have to work ," Jess said, pointing to his half-finished job of opening up the shop. "We still need to make as much money as possible to keep this place afloat, and if we're doing renovations soon, you need to—"

"Okay, okay, boss lady," Kevin said in an amused tone. "I get it! Go clean, I'll be up here."

Jess nodded and turned back toward the double doors, flinging them open. She glanced around her kitchen— her kitchen —and cataloged what needed to be done. She smiled to herself, letting the excitement in her chest bubble to the surface as a few tears of pure happiness rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them away, her hands trembling slightly at the mere thought that this time next week, she would be baking all the kanelbullar her heart desired.

Jess sat on her new bed, in her new room. It felt jarring sleeping by herself after sharing one with Charlie for so long. She didn't realize how horribly she'd been sleeping until her first morning at the Balls' cottage when she woke up feeling well-rested for the first time in years. Or maybe it was the fact that the stress etched in her chest from constantly worrying about rent and bills dulled slightly in her new environment. Either way, she vowed to never share a bed with someone again.

She scanned the notebook on her lap, making edits to her recipes. They were the same ones she used at the bakery at Post Road but with major improvements now that she could do her own thing. She flicked through the pages, wondering if it would be crazy to sell a few loaves of sourdough bread and French baguettes each day. She scribbled it down, noting for later.

A soft knock came from her closed bedroom door. "You can't hide in there forever, my dear."

She sighed and tossed her notebook aside, then headed for the door, creaking it open slowly. Gram stood on the other side in her pajamas, wrapped up in her soft robe.

"I don't want to be a bother," Jess admitted. "As soon as I can afford my own place again, I'll be—"

"You be quiet with that nonsense," Gram interrupted. She held up her hand and patted Jess's cheek. "Calvin is your family, so you are my family. Now get in the kitchen and eat some dinner."

Jess gave her a bashful smile. "Yes, ma'am."

She followed Gram into the kitchen, sitting down at the table covered in an intricate lace tablecloth, a peony-scented candle burning at the center. Gram pulled out a wrapped-up pie container from the fridge.

Her eyebrows raised. "Dessert for dinner?"

"My house, my rules," Gram replied, placing a slice of cherry pie in the toaster oven, then took a seat next to Jess. "So. How are you?"

"Good." Jess nodded. She shifted in her seat, feeling uncomfortable. She'd only really spoken to Calvin's grandmother in passing. How much had Calvin told her? How much did she know?

"You break up with someone after nine years and you're just…good? I don't buy it, dearie."

Okay, so she knows a lot , Jess thought to herself. "I'm still, um, in shock, I think."

"I would be too, that's a long time to be with a person," Gram replied. "Calvin's grandfather has been gone for eleven years, and I still think I'm in shock."

"How long were you married?"

"Forty-one blissful years."

Jess smirked. "Were they all blissful?"

Gram nodded, no hesitation in the slightest. "Yes. Even when we fought. Even when things felt hard. Every second with him was worth it."

Jess wrung her hands underneath the table, her mind drifting to her years with Charlie. Blissful wasn't exactly the word she'd use to describe their relationship. Sure, parts of being with him in the beginning felt magical, the first kisses and the stolen moments when she'd sneak out of her parents' house. But in the end, on the brink of finally being on her own after almost a decade, she was surprised at how little she mourned what they'd become. Or maybe it was her excellent night's sleep that was making her feel a little jaded.

The timer from the toaster oven dinged.

Gram slid the slice of pie from a spatula onto a plate, handing it to Jess. She took a tentative bite, expecting the filling to be overly sweet and the crust to be crumbly and dry.

Oh, how wrong she was.

The cherry filling was perfectly bright and tart, the liquid syrupy and thick enough for the pie to hold its shape. The crust was buttery and flaky and easy to fork into. She took another big bite of the pie, closing her eyes, feeling embarrassed by the moan that escaped her throat without her consent.

Gram chuckled. "That good, huh?"

She speared another chunk, shoveling it in her mouth, not caring that she was talking with her mouth full. "Can I have this recipe for the bakery?"

"Of course, why else do you think I made it?" Gram's eyes twinkled.

She picked up the end with the crust, biting into it. "And your oatmeal chocolate chip cookies?"

"Now that one is top secret. Grampy has been after it for years."

Jess frowned. "What would it take for you to hand it over to me instead?"

"Seeing he's got two decades of free blueberry coffee cake in his favor, you'll have your work cut out for you."

She groaned, looking down at her empty plate, wondering if it would be extremely rude to lick it clean. Grampy's blueberry coffee cake was a staple in town—the townies went absolutely nuts for it. She'd wanted to get her hands on that recipe for years, but it was sealed tight in his vault of buttery, sugary secrets. And apparently Gram's oatmeal chocolate chip cookies were of the same caliber. There's no way she would choose Jess to give that recipe to.

Jess leaned back in her chair, running a hand through the long, wispy blonde strands cupping her face—the result of trying to grow out the bangs she'd given herself last summer. Another mistake to add to her list of horrible life choices. "Do you think Grampy is going to flip about us opening up a bakery?"

Gram tutted. "His deli brings in as much business in the afternoon as his baked goods do in the morning. Sometimes more."

"Yeah but…still," Jess huffed. "Haverport is always up in arms anytime a new business pops up."

It was why chains of any kind couldn't survive on Main Street; they were protested heavily by townies who didn't want big corporations to take over their beloved mom-and-pops downtown. The nearest chain was a Starbucks, which was a twenty-minute drive out of town, right off the entrance to the interstate.

Opening up her own spot wasn't as bad as a chain, but trying to compete with one of the oldest and most successful businesses in town? She could already picture the headlines. Self-Taught Baker Thinks She's Better Than Grampy. Don't Go, She Sucks.

Gram reached over and patted Jess's hand on the table. "I can see that mind of yours spiraling. Don't fret. It will all work out for the best."

She exhaled. "Will it? Will it really all work out for the best?"

"Yes," Gram replied, again without hesitation, like she was a fortune teller revealing the future. "You have a great partner in this. I know you will be just fine."

Jess frowned. "You mean Kevin?"

"He's a good boy. A little…aloof, sometimes. But kind-hearted and passionate. And very excited about working with you."

Her chest tightened. "He told you that?"

Gram smiled, that little twinkle still in her eye. "He didn't have to, dearie. It's written all over his face when he looks at you."