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The woman who entered the café a little while later might have been my potential birthday party client, or she might have just gotten lost on her way to a Vogue fashion spread photoshoot.

You know how when you see models in fashion magazines, they’re always wearing clothes that you imagine would look ridiculous in real life?

Like they’re trying way too hard to look good?

Not this woman. She just made it look like I wasn’t trying hard enough. Everything about her, from her sharply pointed heels and her tailored green slacks to the white blouse with an oversized collar, looked sleek and sophisticated and like it should never, ever be covered in cat hair.

All my optimism drained away. Maybe she’d misunderstood my website. Maybe she thought I was some avant-garde art gallery or a winery or something and that’s why she’d called to discuss booking a party.

But then a little girl emerged from behind the maybe-fashion model, her eyes lighting up as she looked around.

The kid was maybe six, and dressed almost as beautifully as the woman was, but when she saw the cats perched in the window of the cat area, she quivered with sheer joy. “Mommy, look! Kitties!”

The woman pushed her sunglasses up and flashed me what managed to be a very sophisticated grin. “Hi, I’m Julia, and this is Andi,” she said, extending one hand. “This place is perfect .”

“Thank you. I’m so glad you like it.” This was going better than I’d hoped. Already Andi was pressed up against the window between the café and the cat area, making soft cooing noises at Jojo, whose gas problem was, fortunately, obscured by the glass between us.

“And I love your apron,” Julia said. “Did your kids make that for you?”

“I don’t have any kids.”

“Ah.” Julia nodded, her grin fading. “I see. Well, anyway, it’s...cute.”

I glanced down at the bedazzled cat face on my apron. I guessed it did look kind of like kids had made it.

But no kids had been involved.

This was all me.

I had bedazzled the crap out of that apron. I had actually bedazzled the crap out of all my aprons. Because once you start bedazzling, it’s very hard to stop.

A problem Julia clearly never experienced.

She and I stood there in silence for a moment, while Jojo batted at Andi’s fingers from the other side of the glass, making the little girl squeal with delight.

Say something, Glory. Be cool. You can do this.

But it was Julia who smoothed over the awkwardness. Waving one hand toward the cake samples I had set out, she said, “This looks amazing. I can’t wait to get a taste.”

“Yes,” I said, lurching into action, certain my apron was making me sparkle away with every move I made.

Like a disco ball that bakes and likes cats.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” I said, pulling out a chair for her and wincing as the chair legs emitted a sharp shriek against the tile floor.

You. Got. This.

And I did. Because I might look like a disaster, and my chairs might not know how to behave themselves in front of company, but, by golly, I could bake. Which was what was going to win Julia over.

Well, that and the cats, who were doing their damnedest to be extra cool for Andi’s benefit.

“I can do pretty much any flavor you’d like, but these are some of my most popular.” I ran through the flavors I’d selected, while Julia picked up a fork in her slim fingers and began delicately sampling bites from the slivers of cake.

“These are wonderful,” she said, dabbing at the corners of her lips with a napkin and managing not to get even a ghost of a lipstick print on the napkin.

“I think right now we’ve narrowed down the location to here or the Enchanted Forest. It’s kind of a tough call because her two greatest loves are cats and princesses. ”

All my confidence evaporated. Julia was going to choose the Enchanted Forest for Andi’s party, and I was never going to book my first birthday party, and I was going to have to close the café, and Jojo the farting cat was going to end up living in an animal shelter forever, and I was going to have to live in my car, running the heat all the time so it didn’t blow up.

As Roger would say, I was spiraling.

And then it hit me.

“Princesses!” I squeaked out. Julia cocked her head, and even Andi abandoned the cats in the window to stare curiously at me.

I cleared my throat and folded my hands together on the table, willing myself to relax.

“We could do a princess-themed party here,” I said, impressed with how calm and even my voice sounded.

Like I wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown.

I imagined Julia’s future review.

Five stars: The owner didn’t come off as unhinged at all.

Andi bounced up and down. “Cats and princesses?”

What would a princess-themed party look like? Pink streamers? Paper crowns? I stole another glance at Julia and decided a few paper products weren’t going to cut it.

No matter—I’d figure it out.

Then Andi grabbed my arm, her freckled face shining. “Can you get Princess Palollipop to come to my party?”

I had no idea who Princess Palollipop was, but from the blog posts I’d read on business success, I knew the only answer here was to say yes and figure out how to make it happen later.

“Absolutely,” I said, hoping I looked confident.

“The real Princess Palollipop? Not just you in a dress.”

“Um...” I looked to Julia, hoping her face would give me some hint as to what I was dealing with. But she was currently absorbed in licking some caramel frosting off her fork—without, I might add—smearing it all over her mouth.

Not that that’s what would happen to me. It’s just...

That’s what would happen to me.

I looked around at the café area. It was light and airy, with creamy walls and wrought-iron tables and pops of sun-kissed citrus colors here and there.

I loved this place. I loved finally getting to bake for a living, and I loved knowing I was making a difference in the lives of the rescue cats who found homes through the café, and I loved the people of Gallows Bay, who, one-star reviewer aside, had been so friendly and welcoming.

If I wanted to keep my café, I needed this party. I needed it desperately.

I leaned closer to Andi and smiled. “The real Princess Palollipop. I promise.”

How hard could that be to make happen?