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“Don’t print it then,” I said wearily. “Maybe I’ll change my mind.”

She shook her head, said sadly, “You just ruined my day.”

I was a little exasperated, but also, I felt bad for ruining her day. “Matilda, come on. What kind of hardened journalist gets tearful over a bakery being sold?”

She wasn’t having any of it. “You know, Bredahl’s is the lifeblood of this town. My aunties work in the bakery. My brother drives one of the delivery trucks. My ex used to bring me pecan custard coffee every Saturday morning.”

“Jeez. I wish I’d kept my mouth shut.”

“We have to know sooner or later,” she said sadly.

I’d have preferred later, when I didn’t have to see her cry.

Not that she was crying. She was misty, yes, but not in actual downpour mode.

I said, “Nothing stays the same. That’s the bad news. Also, the good news.”

“Yeah.” She sniffed, pulled herself together. “I understand why you’re bitter. It’s just…”

That this seemed unfairly brutal? Join the club, lovey.

She sat up straight, looked me in the eyes. “I think that’s all the questions I had. Is there anything else people should know about everything you’ve been through? Do you have any questions for me?”

I stared at her and said, “I want to know what happened to my dog.”

I was on my way to meet Dax for dinner and drinks when Malcolm showed up on my doorstep. His hair was tufted up like he’d run across the garden. His handsome face was flushed an alarming shade of red velvet cake. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him look quite so angry or shocked.

“I just got a call from Dave Nazaretyan.” He sounded out of breath, so maybe he had sprinted down from the Big House.

“I don’t know who that is.”

“He’s the managing editor of theCopenhagen Herald.”

“Ah.”Here we go.I braced for impact.

“He wanted to verify a couple of facts ahead of Sunday’s publication. Apparently, you gave an interview to a cub reporter named Matilda Seger and told her you planned on selling the company?”

Cub reporter. Maybe that explained the ears.

“I was thinking out loud.”

Malcolm demanded, “Then it’s true? You’re thinking ofselling?”

I hesitated. “It’s one of a number of possibilities.” I shrugged. “Along with suing the police department.”

My intention was to convey that it was just one of a number of vague and probably unlikely scenarios. Malcolm didn’t take it that way. Or maybe he did. But either way, he went as white as he had been red.

“Are you out of your mind?”he shouted. He’d never shouted at me in my entire life.

Honestly, I was a little taken aback by his reaction. Unlike Astrid, for Malcolm, Bredahl was just a job. He was a good sales manager, maybe a great one, but he didn’t live for his work, he didn’t live to deliver the best cakes and cookies Wisconsin had to offer to the world. If I sold the company, Malcolm would almost certainly keep his position. Even if he was let go, I knew for a fact he’d be looking at a terrific severance package and a very comfortable retirement. Malcolm didn’t have anything to worry about.

“I’m considering all the options. I don’t think I’m cut out to run the company—”

“I told you,Iwill—”

I said, “Malcolm, I don’t think you’re cut out to the run the company either.”

His jaw dropped.