can still make some for you at home.” Because that would be the only place she could use ovens until the bakery would reopen. “It will keep me busy at least while I wait.”
Sam held up his coffee cup. “We could look at this as something terrible. Or we could see this as a chance for you to fashion the Sweetheart in your own image. I can build it better than it was before.”
“What about Grammy’s house?” His offer was generous to say the least, but Sam and Kelly had been remodeling Grammy’s turn-of-the-century farmhouse for months. While the first floor was completed, they were in the middle of expanding the bathroom on the second floor. Megs shook her head. “You’re already booked.”
“The house is almost finished.” Sam glanced at Kelly, who nodded her assent. “The bakery is my first priority now.”
“We live in the house, and it would be nice to have a working bathroom.” She found that she could smile at that. “Besides, it will be days or weeks before the insurance on the bakery will kick in. I can’t rebuild without money.” She fingered the business card that she’d stashed in her jeans pocket. Adam was the last person she’d go to for a loan. She didn’t care how desperate she got, she would never go to him and beg for money.
IT TOOK TWO days to get clearance to enter what was left of the Sweetheart. Even then, Megs had to be accompanied by Will Stone, the town’s code inspector. And she had to wear a hard hat. She adjusted the heavy thing on her head and stepped over the threshold of her bakery. She stood in what once had been the retail area where her customers bought and ate their pastries. Snow now covered the broken glass of her display cases, the tabletops and chairs. The cash register was buried under more snow and broken timber. She walked through the swinging doors to the kitchen.
The damage here seemed minimal compared to the disaster in the front. Megs walked to the marble top of the work island that had saved her life and ran a hand along it. She glanced behind her to Will. “The insurance adjuster said he’d arrive at ten. I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”
Will nodded and glanced around. “I’m really sorry about what happened, Megs.”
“Not your fault.” She turned back and wandered to the shelves that still stood connected to the partial back wall. She pulled down a worn but now wet recipe book. She clutched it to her chest. “I’m glad Grammy’s not here to see this. It would kill her for sure.”
Will cleared his throat, probably not sure what to say to her gallows humor. She shrugged and walked back to the dining area. Being in the kitchen made her wish for something she could never get back.
A tiny man wearing a heavy parka ran into the bakery and glanced around. “Horrible. Simply horrible.”
Megs nodded. “Mr. Simon?”
The insurance adjuster brought out his cell phone and started to take pictures. “The devastation.”
She glanced around. Yep, that was what it felt like. “But you’ll be able to help me rebuild?”
He didn’t answer but continued to take pictures. She followed him around the front room, then through to the kitchen. Will handed him a hard hat, which the man put over his earmuffs. He snapped at least fifty pictures before he glanced at her. “Rebuild? Maybe. Mrs. Sweet’s insurance policy covered fire and flooding. But acts of God?” He shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“When we spoke on the phone, you assured me that this wouldn’t be an issue.” She looked around at her ruined business. “I believed you when you said that my policy covered damages.”
“Damages? Yes. Rebuilding?” He screwed his face up into a grimace. “Do you realize how much it will cost you to do that? Even on a smaller scale than what you once had?” He shook his head. “Your settlement will help you get started, but I’d suggest consulting a banker for a business loan. You’re going to need a lot more than what I can offer.”
The image of a certain banker’s face popped into her head. No. Never.
She closed her eyes. Why couldn’t this ever be easy?
Mr. Simon walked past her and into the kitchen area. She raised her brows questioningly at Will, who shrugged and followed the insurance adjuster. Maybe she could go into one of the Traverse City banks to get a loan. The bakery had a strong track record of sales, almost a century of them. Surely that would get her the funds she would need. It shouldn’t matter that she’d only been in charge of the business for four months, right?
Mr. Simon promised to inform her of the settlement within a few days. She shook his hand and thanked him for being prompt. Will Stone also shook her hand, but he paused before leaving through the front door. “I hate to say it, Megs, but Mr. Simon’s right. Anything to do with construction these days costs a lot. The insurance money will help, but you’re probably going to need a loan to cover the difference.”
She knew that, even as she resisted the idea. But she also knew she would do whatever she needed to avoid having to ask Adam for money. Anyone but him.
She thanked Will again, then locked the door behind him after he left. She sighed and walked back to the kitchen. She needed someone to give her advice. Someone who knew the business and could direct her. Problem was the person she’d depended on wasn’t here anymore.
Decision made, she grabbed her purse and locked the door and then walked down the street to where she’d parked her car on Main, since they still weren’t allowing vehicles on Lincoln.
She drove out to the countryside cemetery, where four generations of Sweets had been buried, and parked on the side of the road before trudging through the snow up the hill to where Grammy lay buried. She brushed the snow off the headstone marking her grandparents’ graves, then stood and clasped her hands in front of her. “I suppose you know why I’m here. The Sweetheart is in trouble, and I don’t know what to do.”
She paused, listening to see if her dear Grammy would be able to communicate with her from the beyond. But only silence answered her.
Not that she’d expected to actually hear anything.
She thought of Grammy and how she and Pop Pop had kept the bakery going even through the lean times during the Great Depression and the sugar shortages of World War II. They’d rebuilt after a fire had destroyed the kitchen when her father had been a baby. They’d never given up, but had poured their hearts and souls into the Sweetheart.
They’d expect no less from her.
She kissed her glove, then rested it on the headstone. “Thank you both. I won’t let you down.”
She walked back to her car, determined to make things work. Somehow.
* * *
MONDAY MORNINGS REQUIRED enough coffee without a visit from the district manager. Adam sighed and poured himself his third cup, as well as one for Dave Thompson. He took both mugs to his office and handed one to his boss. “I don’t remember us having a meeting planned for today.”
Dave chuckled. “If I announced every time I was going to visit, I wouldn’t find out nearly enough about how things are really running in my branches.” He looked out the glass walls to the lobby area where a
