Later, when they’d left the bar and gone their separate ways, Aidan told himself that while he could go his whole life without having another afternoon like that, he had to admit talking about stuff was kind of good. He felt...relieved somehow. Not that he would share that piece of information with anyone. Ever.

CHAPTER FIVE

NEARLY A WEEK LATER, Shelby found herself back at Jo’s Bar, but under very different circumstances. Instead of sitting across from a surprisingly chatty Aidan, she was with her girlfriends for lunch. She sat next to her very pregnant sister-in-law, who kept shifting in her chair.

“I can’t get comfortable,” Destiny admitted when Shelby asked if she was all right. “Some days are harder than others. I can’t believe I still have a few weeks to go. I’m so huge.”

From across the table, Isabel eyed her warily. “Please stop saying that. I’m going to be that big times three. All I want to hear is how wonderful you feel and how great every second is.”

Destiny sipped her hot lemon water. “I’ve never felt better. It’s nothing. You’ll be fine.”

Isabel sighed. “Thank you for lying.”

“Anytime.”

Taryn, perfectly dressed as always in a leather and wool suit and ridiculously high-heeled boots, pointed to the plate of cookies Shelby had brought to the lunch.

“Are those as good as they look?” she asked warily.

“I hope so.” Shelby’s voice was cheerful. “I can’t believe how great the response had been. People are going crazy for the ice-sculpture cookies.”

“You shouldn’t be surprised,” Madeline told her. “It was a great idea. We get so many tourists coming in for the festival. Who doesn’t love looking at the amazing carvings, all done in ice? To be able to buy cookies that look like them is fun.”

Shelby appreciated the compliment. Being a part of the bakery was still new to her. She wanted to get it right all the time. Not possible, she knew, but it was nice that her ideas had been successful so far.

“I’ve heard from a few more of the artists,” she said. “They want cookies for next year. And a couple of people have placed orders to have cookies shipped to them at home.”

Felicia, the woman in charge of the festivals, looked at her. “You could start a mail-order business at the bakery. You already have a website. It wouldn’t take much to expand it.”

“I’ve been playing around with the idea,” Shelby admitted. “I need to get all my thoughts together and have more information before I talk to Amber about it.”

There would be start-up costs, of course, but not that many. Still, she wasn’t sure what Amber would say. Her business partner hadn’t been convinced about the food-cart idea, although she’d agreed to try it. Now the Ambrosia Bakery cart was selling briskly at every festival.

“The biggest challenge is decorating them,” Shelby said. “While the work isn’t that detailed, it’s time-consuming. I don’t want to tie up our skilled employees with something like this, but to sell the cookies beyond Fool’s Gold, we’ll need a process. Plus, the sales aren’t going to be regular. So hiring someone means having to fill their workday with other things when we don’t have custom orders.”

“You need part-time help,” Madeline said. “Someone who would be willing to come in when you had orders.”

“You should hire teenagers,” Taryn offered. “Young ones. A group of fourteen-year-old girls would love to come in and decorate cookies for a few hours. They could do it in groups. It would give them a nice break from babysitting and offer them a chance to earn some money.”