lights to come back to her place of birth.
It only took a quick glance for Dwight to notice lines of tension around Sasha’s mouth. As someone responsible for managing his own practice, he suspected she was apprehensive about making her new business a success.
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I ate a piece of your chocolate-and-pecan cheesecake and wanted more.”
Sasha flashed a relaxed smile for the first time. The gesture softened her mouth as her eyes sparkled like polished emeralds. “I’ll definitely put that on my cheesecake list.”
Dwight reached into the pocket of his jacket and took out an envelope. “I brought you a copy of Kiera’s immunizations and her Social Security number.”
Sasha took the envelope. “Come with me. I’m going to scan both and then give them back to you. The less paper I have to file, the better.”
He followed her to the rear of the shop, where a spacious immaculate commercial kitchen was outfitted with industrial appliances. His gaze was drawn to a built-in refrigerator/freezer, and then to dozens of cans and labeled jars of spices stacked on metal shelves that spanned an entire wall. Sasha had set up a desk with a computer, printer and file cabinet next to the exit door leading out to the rear parking lot. Bills and invoices were tacked to the corkboard with colorful pushpins affixed to the wall above the desk.
“So, this is where the magic happens.”
Sasha nodded, smiling. “Disney may take offense, but this is my magic kingdom.” She sat on the office chair in front of the computer and patted the straight-back chair next to the workstation. “Please sit down.”
“When did you know you wanted to be a baker?” Dwight asked, as he sat where Sasha had indicated.
She swiveled on her chair to face him. “I never wanted to be a baker.”
His eyebrows rose slightly. “But don’t you bake?”
“Bakers make pies, while pastry chefs make desserts.”
Dwight inclined his head. “I apologize and stand corrected.” Sasha’s low, sensual laugh caressed his ear.
“There’s no need to apologize, Dr. Adams.”
He gave her a pointed look. “It’s Dwight. I’m only Dr. Adams at my office.”
Sasha paused and then nodded. A beat passed. “Okay, Dwight. I suppose you’re wondering what else I wanted to talk to you about?”
Dwight, sitting with his hands sandwiched between his knees, watched as Sasha inserted a thumb drive into a port. “I must admit I am curious.” The seconds ticked as she saved what she’d scanned and handed the papers back to him.
“How difficult was it for you to set up your practice here in The Falls? And how long did it take before you knew it would be viable?”
Her query caught Dwight slightly unawares. He thought Sasha would’ve established a detailed business plan before deciding to open the shop. After all, she was selling goods that relied on supply and demand, while he offered a specific service.
“Well, it was somehow different for me because there was no dental office in The Falls. I remember my mother complaining about having to drive to Mineral Springs and sit for hours to be seen because the office was always overcrowded and overbooked. And once they added an orthodontist it became bedlam in the waiting room with kids falling over one another. Once I decided I wanted to be a dentist I knew beforehand that I would set up a practice here.”
“How long have you had your practice?” Sasha asked.
“This coming October will be eight years.”
“Did you know the first year that you would have enough patients to sustain your practice?”
“I knew that only when my patients returned for their sixth-month checkup. My mother was semiretired, so she filled in as my receptionist until I was able to find a permanent one, and after I hired a hygienist, I didn’t have to micromanage, and everything fell into place. A couple of months ago I added a dental assistant to our staff who performs some of the duties the hygienist had assumed. Initially, most of my patients were kids who needed to have their teeth checked for school, a few for sleepaway camp, and then after a while I was able to sign up their parents.”
“What about your hours?”
“At one time they varied because I was in the reserves and had to serve one weekend a month and two weeks during the summer. I resigned my commission last summer once Kiera came to live with me. Currently, I’m open Mondays and Fridays nine to six, and Tuesdays and Thursdays from one to seven. Even though I no longer go on maneuvers for the two weeks, I still close the office.”
“What happened to Wednesdays and Saturdays?”
“Wednesday is designated golf day for doctors even though I don’t golf,” he admitted, smiling, “and because I have two late nights, I can spend Saturdays and Sundays with my daughter.”
Sasha inhaled a deep breath, held it before slowly exhaling. “I debated whether to close for one day, and then decided on two because I don’t have an assistant. Mama had a mild heart attack last year and her cardiologist has cautioned her about overtiring herself. She’s been working nonstop helping me to get this place ready, but by afternoons she’s so tired that she must get off her feet. Most nights she’s in bed by the time I get home. I wanted to wait to see how many more would apply for the part-time afternoon position before I made a decision, but because Kiera was the first to come in, I decided not to prolong the process.”
“What time do you come in?” Dwight questioned.
“I get in around six and I’m usually here a couple of hours after closing.”
He whistled softly. “That’s a long day.” Sasha nodded. “I really understand your apprehension, but this isn’t the first time you’ve gone into business for yourself.” He wanted to remind her that she had earned the reputation as a celebrity chef.
“That’s true, but the difference is I’d worked out of my home and only when I was commissioned to design cakes for special occasions. I’m not questioning my ability as a pastry chef, but whether folks in town are willing to spend money on freshly made baked goods.”
Dwight curbed the urge to reach out and take Sasha’s hand when he noticed its trembling. “You’re experiencing what every other start-up business faces. We don’t know how it’s going to turn out except that we must take the risk and hope we’ll be successful. I had to withdraw money from an annuity to buy machines and equipment to set up the office, and it took me three years before I was able to put it back.”
Sasha suddenly felt as if she was being a Negative Nelly. Unlike Dwight, she didn’t have to borrow money to set up the bakeshop. She’d earned enough money from designing cakes for A-list celebrities to become financially comfortable, and she’d also inherited a small fortune from her former employer. Luckily, she’d signed a prenup before marrying Grant with the stipulation he wasn’t entitled to her earnings, just as she wasn’t entitled to what he’d received from his recording contracts. She’d had Adele Harvey to thank for
