Page 5 of Spicy or Sweet (Wintermore #2)

NOELLE

It’s a fundamental rule of staying in your hometown that the people who watched you grow up will never truly see you as an adult.

Even Rora, who’s a mom herself, still has people telling her how tall she’s gotten when they haven’t seen her in a while—a bold-faced lie, considering she’s not even five feet.

I’m thirty years old, and Angela Blackwood still treats me like the teenager who corrupted her perfect daughter.

“Please, call me Angela,” she tells Shay as they shake hands, mere seconds after I greeted her as Mayor Blackwood and she said nothing of the sort.

“Shuffle along, Noelle,” Mayor Blackwood says, flicking her hand in my direction.

I grit my teeth and slide over on the bench so she can sit beside me.

Shay narrows her soft gray eyes, glancing between me and the mayor, the dismissiveness not escaping her notice.

I’ve been dreading this meeting since Mayor Blackwood called yesterday.

We’ve never seen eye to eye, and I do my best to avoid her.

Shay showing up in my kitchen when I was already in a shitty mood really was the icing on top of the cake.

But she was frazzled—spilling your last bottle of red food color in a Christmas town will do that to you—and it’s so rare to see her shaken, that it knocked me off my axis.

I know very little about Shay, other than she moved here a few years ago to be close to her brother, who lives in a cabin on the mountain, she’s a baker, she’s into women, and she’s divorced—the last two are recent revelations.

It’s not like I’ve ever had much of a reason to pay attention to her over her business.

I’d guess she’s somewhere in her early to mid-forties, given the fine crinkles around her gray eyes and the smile lines that frame her face.

She has long blonde hair that she sometimes wears in a French braid when she’s baking, fine pink lips, and very white and straight teeth.

She always wears a gold heart-shaped locket with a swirly G on it, and she toys with it constantly.

If the Wintermore whispers are anything to go by, she could be from California, New York, Michigan, or Colorado.

California would be my guess, if the rumor mill is correct, but the rumor mill is rarely the most accurate source of information.

I once heard through the grapevine that my parents were getting a divorce because someone supposedly heard them arguing over which kind of peanut butter to buy at the grocery store.

Mom’s a crunchy person, Dad’s a smooth guy, but it’s all a moot point, because Felix and I are both allergic.

I grab my latte and take a sip just as Shay says, “So, Mayor Blackwood—” and almost spit it out.

For a brief moment, I actually like her. It’s gone as soon as I feel it, though.

“What is it you wanted to talk to me and Noelle about?” Shay asks, and I appreciate her not beating around the bush.

Mayor Blackwood looks mildly affronted, but she shakes it off quickly. “Well, we have an exciting opportunity that I think would be beneficial for both our town and our residents, but I need your help to make it happen. Both of you. Shay, are you familiar with A Christmas Wish in the Mountains?”

Shay nods, and I’m not surprised. You’d be hard-pressed to find anyone in Wintermore who doesn’t know the movie that made us famous like the back of their hand.

“Excellent,” the mayor says, clapping her hands. “As I’m sure you both know, the tourism the movie brings us is vital to this town, but it has dwindled over the past couple of years. The more Christmas movies that release, the less relevant we become.”

We first noticed the drop in the run-up to Christmas last year.

My brother did, anyway. The Enchanted Workshop usually sees a spike in sales from September, but it was a slow start last year.

In an unusual move from Felix, he had a good idea and started pushing the online store.

He hired his best friend’s sister, Abigail, to run the online side of things and push the store on social media, and profits actually increased last holiday season—and they’ve stayed steady since.

And, of course, my bakery has been as busy as the day it opened.

From what I’ve heard, the rest of the town hasn’t been so lucky.

“I’ve been in contact with the network,” Mayor Blackwood continues.

“I asked if they’d be interested in filming some kind of sequel here, and we’ve been in talks over the past few months, but I wasn’t expecting anything to happen for years.

However…” She leans in, beckoning us closer and lowering her voice, like she’s sharing a secret.

“They were supposed to film a fall movie up in Maine this year, but the town flooded. So they’re pivoting.

They’ve pulled together a script that works as a sequel, with the actors they have, and want to film a fall movie here, to release next year. ”

I narrow my eyes. “A fall movie in a Christmas town?”

The idea sounds stupid, but I can’t deny that it might be nice to spread the busy season out a little. We get an influx every Christmas, and the truly Christmas-obsessed folks visit year-round, but, for the most part, the rest of the year is pretty normal for a small mountain town in Wyoming.

It wouldn’t be the worst thing to have another season in Wintermore’s pocket—I suppose not everyone is as obsessed with Christmas as we are.

But a new movie being filmed doesn’t explain why I’m squeezed into a booth with Shay and Mayor Blackwood.

“What does this have to do with us?” Shay asks the question that’s already playing on my mind.

“The movie follows the daughter of the couple from the first movie, all grown-up, and her old high school nemesis, owning rival bakeries. There’s some kind of competition involved.

You know what these movies are like,” the mayor says, waving a hand dismissively. “They want to use your bakeries, and—”

“For how long?” I interrupt, ignoring Mayor Blackwood’s scandalized expression at my rudeness. “We can’t just close our bakeries.”

“I’m not sure of the logistics, but you would be well compensated, and we can find a space for the two of you to work. Don’t you have a kitchen in your basement, Noelle?”

I do, but there’s no way I could fit Shay and my whole team in there. At least she only has Gracie working with her, but I have seven employees.

“So we’d work… together?” Shay asks.

“Exactly. And they want you to bake together, too!”

Mayor Blackwood seems excited, but that sounds like a lot more than just letting them use our bakeries.

“How much work would this entail?” I ask because I need more details before I can make any promises.

“Well, the network wants to source as much as they can from Wintermore—it’s a good marketing point—so they want the two of you to work together to bake for the movie. As I said, you’ll be well compensated.”

I almost laugh. Where am I supposed to pull the extra pair of hands and hours in a day from?

It sounds like a whole lot of extra work I have neither the time nor space for. Not to mention the fact that I’m already sacrificing sleep to try and fit everything into my day.

As if she can see the thoughts rattling around my brain, Mayor Blackwood adds, “I don’t know exactly how much work it would be.

The network is sending people, and they can explain everything.

But what I do know is that this would be great for all of us.

For the town, for you, for your bakeries—think of the marketing!

And you’ll be credited in the movies. I don’t see any downsides, personally. ”

“When would this be happening?” Shay asks. Shit, that should’ve been my first question.

“They’re looking to start filming in ten days, but they’ll be in town at the start of next week, so they’ll want to meet with you then.”

She has to be fucking kidding me. “Ten days? Are you serious?”

“It’s a last-minute project!” she protests. “They need to film this fall to release next fall. We’re lucky they could squeeze us in.”

“It’s not exactly a lot of notice for us to figure things out with our schedules and clients,” Shay points out, and I find myself agreeing with her. What the hell is happening?

The mayor frowns, like she expected Shay, at least, would be on her side.

“It’s short notice, I’ll give you that. But the network is being very accommodating.

They’ll pay for extra staff if you need help with your existing work, and they’re going to be building temporary workspaces for anyone displaced during filming, so if you need more space, we can make that happen.

I think this could be good for everyone. ”

Shay presses her lips together in a thin line, and it looks like she’s seriously considering this. I know her patisserie isn’t as busy as The Enchanted Bakery, but even she has to know how ridiculous this is.

I drain the last of my latte, scrunching my nose at the pool of syrup at the bottom. Pushing my cup away, I lean back against the booth and turn to the mayor.

“Look, while I appreciate the idea and I don’t think it would be a bad thing to bring more tourism to town, it’s just not feasible for me to do something like this on such short notice. The bakery is so busy, and I—”

“And who do you owe that business to, Noelle?” Mayor Blackwood says, folding her arms across her chest.

“I’m sorry?”

“You wouldn’t be in Wintermore if it weren’t for the Christmas movie.

Your family wouldn’t have the toy store, and you wouldn’t have your bakery—your niece wouldn’t exist. This town has given and given and given to you and your family.

They’ve supported you since day one, and I would think you’d want to support them back. ”

Her words curdle my stomach, stretching the tension I hold there so tight it’s a wonder it doesn’t snap.

“Hey now, that’s not necess—”

“Fine,” I answer, interrupting Shay. I don’t need her coming to my defense. Not when Mayor Blackwood is right.

This town has given me everything, the goddamn movie has given me everything. My family has thrived here: we met Rora, and Rora met Uncle Henry; our toy store has been more than successful; my bakery is killing it. All of my dreams have come true.

What kind of person gets everything they ever wanted and hates every second of it?

An ungrateful brat who can’t handle a little hard work, apparently.

“I’ll do it.” I look up at Shay, and she’s watching me with an expression I don’t recognize. “Are you in?”

Shay side eyes the mayor for a second before focusing back on me. “Are you sure? If it’s too much—”

“I said I’d do it, Shay.” I’m not proud of my tone, or the flash of disappointment that flicks through Shay’s eyes.

She nods. “Alright. I’m in.”