Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
I’ve met his daughter before, but we’ve never hung out. What if his kid hates me? What if I don’t know what to say to her? Will he think I’m a terrible business partner if I have zero kid skills?
Just be yourself, girl.
Pep talk engaged, I march up to them and say to Charlotte, “Top-notch sweet tooth, I hear?”
Charlotte nods. “I’ve had years of practice.”
“Then, you’ve got a job to do. Are you ready to be our taste-tester?”
She stands taller. “I am.”
“You’ll also need to be our arbiter.”
Her brow furrows for a few seconds before she says, “Someone who helps settle disputes?”
My smile widens. “You know that word?”
“I do vocabulary quizzes for fun.”
I blink, processing the detail about this smarty-pants. “You’ll need to arbitrate any sweets disputes between your dad and me. Can you handle that?”
“Definitely,” she says. “I like to give my opinion.”
I offer a hand for high-fiving. “Opinions rule.”
She seems skeptical at first, and the nerves fly up in me again. Have I chosen the wrong tactic? But then she smacks back, and I feel like I’ve passed the first test. I open the door for Charlotte, and we head inside.
“Dad, technically we’ve been doing market research every time we’ve baked together,” Charlotte says as we settle into a table in the corner of the white bakery with pink polka dot walls.
“Of course we have,” he says, gesturing to the treats we selected—a seven-layer bar, a dark chocolate brownie, and a blondie. We won’t eat them all. I don’t have that much room in my dessert drawer. Especially since I won’t try the ones with nuts, so that saves some space. But I’ll treat the others as samples and take bites of most of them.
“But isn’t this stealing ideas?” she asks with some concern.
Corbin shakes his head. “Nope. It’s scoping out the competition. In hockey, you watch game video. In baking, you check out what others make.”
“And you take pictures,” I offer, then pull out my phone to snap photos of how their goodies look on the pretty white plates.
Which gives me an idea for Afternoon Delight. “We should get plates at the thrift shop—Reprise on Main Street. I’ve loved an eclectic mix of dishes ever since my grandmother served me dinner once on a totally random collection of vintage plates and nothing matched.”
“It’s like an adventure,” Charlotte says, then goes thoughtful. “Plus, we can get all kinds of patterns then, and patterns help.”
Corbin gives a soft smile, lowering his face, and I read between the lines. Patterns must be helpful for him. That’s good to know.
“It’s settled. We’ll shop for plates too,” I say.
“Yes, but can we please try these now?” Charlotte says. “I want to record our input.” She whips out her phone and shows me a color and pattern-coded task management program. “This way we can make sure we have data-driven menu decisions.”
I set a hand on my heart. “Those are some seriously beautiful words. Also, yes. Eat.”
Corbin nods to his daughter, then says to me, “Someone’s a little organized.”
Charlotte breaks off a bite of a brownie, finishes it quickly, then says to her dad: “Would that someone be you?”
With avid eyes, I look to my business partner like I’ve caught him. And, really, I have. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it, Corbin?”
He sighs as he looks at his kid. “Charlotte, you’re killing all my cool cred.”
“That’s assuming you had any to start with,” I say, then turn back to the little chatterbox. Wind her up and watch her go. I tap the table. “Tell me about Organized Daddy.”
“Mabel,” he groans, then reaches for the seven-layer bar, cuts a few slivers for all of us, and takes a nibble of one.
“What?” I ask with an overly sweet shrug. I avoid that bar since it has walnuts but note how Corbin’s eyes flicker with satisfaction as he eats it. “Sounds like that’s what you are. Hyper-organized Daddy.”
Charlotte finishes a bite of her seven-layer bar slice and jumps back into the conversational fray. “He labels all his food. On the day he buys it, he marks down the date it entered the house. Then he marks it off on an inventory app.”
As I break off a bite of a blondie, I make a beckoning gesture with my other hand. “More. Tell me more. Don’t leave a single detail out. Did he make the app himself?”
Charlotte chuckles, shaking her head. “No! He’s not a techie.”
Corbin clears his throat. “I feel like we’ve discussed enough about the app.”
I meet his gaze head-on. “We will never discuss enough about your inventory ordering app. This is like a whole new level of Corbin intel.” I return all my focus to the precocious girl in front of me. “Do you have to update items on the app when you use them?”