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“Lock up when you’re done,” Jo said. She considered it. “You’re welcome to leave early if you’d like.”

Emma smiled gently. “Thanks, boss. Have a good night.”

“You too, Emma.”

Maybe this would be the day Emma came to a game.

Jo had been sitting next to Avery throughout the season. Avery told Jo stories about obnoxious customers at the bakery, and Jo told Avery stories about obnoxious suits at the network, and neither of them mentioned Emma again, after that first game.

Today, Dylan arrived without Avery. He gave Jo a half roll of his eyes and said, “Bakery crisis.”

Avery showed up in the third inning, flour smeared in her hair. She and Dylan spent much of the game bickering. Jo tried not to eavesdrop, but they were too close not to overhear Dylan insisting she hire more help and Avery claiming she didn’t have the money to pay them enough yet.

An idea formed in Jo’s mind.

Emma didn’t show up, and Jo was glad. There was enough tension between Avery and Dylan; she didn’t need to add to it with whatever would happen if Emma arrived. After the game, Jo caught Avery while Dylan was distracted with the kids.

“If I swing by the bakery in the morning, will you have time for a conversation?”

Avery looked skeptical. “Why?”

“I think I may have a proposition for you,” Jo said.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ll tell you in the morning if you have time for me.”

Avery rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she said. “But you might have to tell me while I make babka.”

—

Jo was ridiculously wealthy.She was absurdly rich. There was no polite way to put it. Her first paycheck, when she was thirteen, had gone in part to an accountant. Her parents wanted to teach her to be responsible, not wasteful. Jo’s money made money for itself. She had more than she could ever use.

So she gave it away.

Of course she bought things for herself. She probably owned too much property and definitely owned too many shoes. But the majority of her money went elsewhere, always to causes she cared about. She didn’t like to be ostentatious about it, didn’t do it on a grand scale. Or, well, not grand to her. She liked to spread it out. Instead of millions of dollars to get a hospital wing named after her, she paid off student loans or bought medical debt and immediately forgave it. She found fund-raisers looking to make ten thousand dollars and gave them twenty-five thousand instead. She bought out every Girl Scout she saw come cookie-sale time. The crew loved her most then, she was pretty sure, with cookies on every flat surface at the studio.

Restaurants weren’t new to her. She’d sent kids to culinary school and bought a food truck for a guy who to this day was willing to bring it anywhere she’d like and serve people for free. Floured Up seemed like a perfect investment.

Jo scrolled through her contacts that evening, sure to select Emma, not Evelyn.

She chewed on her bottom lip. She didn’t have to tell Emma why she’d be late tomorrow. She did plenty of things, business and otherwise, Emma didn’t know about. Just because this involved her sister didn’t mean it was any different. Avery hadn’t even told her.

Jo was aware that that reasoning was flimsy, but it was all she had.

Will be late in the morning, take your time getting in

Emma replied almost immediately, as she usually did.

Sounds good, boss

She included a smiling emoji, because Emma always had a smile for Jo, even when Jo was lying to her.

Jo wondered if Emma realized she only called herbosswhen no one else was around to notice.

—

The bell above thedoor rang as Jo entered Floured Up. Unlike the last visit, the bakery was filled with people, the tables all taken and a line of four at the counter. Jo sipped on the coffee in her travel mug and wondered if it would be rude to cut to the front. There were two workers waiting on customers, and neither of them Avery. Jo decided to wait.