Page 8 of Fairy Cakes in Winter

“Yeah, well…I make a nice lemon drizzle one that’s pretty popular in spring, but they’re never big sellers. The occasional customer might order a dozen or so for a kid’s birthday party or tea. I don’t advertise them, though. I’ve lost count of how many fairy cakes I’ve ended up tossing out or giving away at closing time. Not worth it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense to me. Sounds like a marketing issue.”

“Probably, but I’ve already blown through my marketing budget with my pop-up idea. It’s best to stick to making pastries I know will sell.”

Theo furrowed his brow. “I mentioned that I have a background in marketing. I can help you brainstorm a few ideas.”

“Okay. What d’ya got?”

“Well, you could try a theme, like nineties music, and make Britney’s banana cream cupcakes. Or pick a sport like surfing and feature coconut surf and sand. Or maybe vacation destinations and make a Big Apple surprise—you get the idea.”

I nodded, charmed in spite of the fact that I knew I’d never go the theme route. “I do, but—”

“Or change up the size,” he continued excitedly. “I know a bakery in the Haight that serves all mini cupcakes. They’re immaculately decorated and you have to buy a dozen, minimum. You can also purchase pupcakes…mini or large versions. People love buying treats for their pets.”

“Good ideas, but chasing gimmicks and figuring out how long to ride that wave before my customers get bored is exhausting. I’d rather concentrate on sure things. The pop-up stores are working for me at the moment. I have one in Oxford and I recently opened one in Bath.”

Theo hummed thoughtfully. “How does a pop-up work?”

I spent the next hour or so explaining the short-term leasing contracts I’d taken on in the hopes of promoting my brand and drumming up business in touristy areas. I didn’t mention that I was low-key worried that I’d overextended myself. I’d had high hopes that the holiday season would push us into the black, but the numbers weren’t encouraging and I didn’t want to think about tough questions in the new year, like…what the fuck was I doing with my life?

At some point, the flight attendant stopped by with coffee and egg and cheese rolls. Theo and I made matching “ew” faces and laughed at our timing before continuing our conversation.

And in that sliver of a second—a shared look and laugh—I felt a strong magnetic pull. The kind of connection you’d expect with lifelong friends, not a random stranger. It threw me off balance for a beat. So when the captain announced that we were twenty minutes away from our destination, I was actually bummed at the thought of saying good-bye.

I frowned as I checked the time. That had to be the fastest nine-plus-hour flight of my life. I hadn’t slept a wink either.

“You must be tired,” I commented, tilting my seat to an upright position.

“Just a smidge. I’ll sleep well tonight and with any luck, I’ll wake up refreshed tomorrow with minimal jet lag.”

“That’s a nice dream,” I snarked.

He chuckled lightly as he repacked his belongings. “You’re probably right. I’ll be wide awake at three a.m. researching bakeries and pop-up retail ideas for—what’s your bakery called? I don’t think you ever said.”

I pulled a business card from the side pocket of my backpack, handing it to Theo before stuffing the bag under the seat in front of me.

“Scott’s Bakery.”

He smiled. “Nice and simple.”

I nodded. “I don’t like frills. It’s a bakery and it’s my name.Boom. Done.”

“What’s your last name?”

“O’Brien. Why?”

His eyes lit with mischief. “If you ever consider a name change, you could go with O’Brien’s Bake Barn or O’Brien’s Cake Bake or…O’Brien’s Cupcake Corner or O’Brien’s Fairy Cake Counter—”

“Okay, you’re getting a little carried away,” I admonished, shaking my head in mock dismay. “And you’re forgetting that I don’t do fairy cakes.”

“Fairy cakes could be the wave of the future! I bet if you—oh, no.” Theo squeaked and grabbed my arm when the plane lurched. I reached for his hand instead, threading my fingers with his. He squeezed gratefully and didn’t let go.

“Sit tight. You’re okay,” I purred gently.

“Thank you. I’m sorry about—” Theo pursed his lips in a taut line. “Crap. Is it going to shake till we land?”

“It might. We’re just sailing through low clouds now.” I propped my water bottle with my free hand and uncapped it.