The Bakery Sisters by Susan Mallery

kid always started. “Kid” being the key word.
    â€œWhy would you do that?” she asked. “Get up that early, go down there and do the crappy jobs?”
    Claire frowned. “Because this is a family business and you can’t go there yourself. I know I can’t fill in for you specifically, but I can free up someone else to do what’s important.”
    The words made sense, but in this context they were way confusing. “You’re a famous concert pianist. You probably make millions a year. Why do you care about the bakery?”
    Claire stared at her as if she wasn’t all that bright. “You’re my sister. Of course I care.”
    After everything that had happened. After all that had been said. For the first time in a long time…maybe ever…Nicole felt very, very small.
    â€œLook, I—” She pressed her lips together. Apologizing wasn’t her best skill. “About last night. What I said.” She sighed. “I’m sorry.”
    Claire nodded. “I know. I’m sure I’d say the same thing in your position.”
    Somehow Nicole doubted that.
    â€œIt’s okay,” Claire added.
    Nicole didn’t believe that, either. But she’d apologized and now she would try to be nicer.
    â€œThe bakery is really interesting,” Claire said. “Everything happens so fast. All those products. Sid made me stay away from the chocolate cake, but I saw a few of them coming out of the oven.”
    â€œThe famous Keyes Chocolate cake,” Nicole grumbled. “It’s a moneymaker.”
    The recipe had been a family secret for generations, and a local Seattle favorite. In the 1980s, a local politician looking to make a good impression had delivered one to President Reagan. It had been served at a White House dinner where the president had declared it better than jelly beans.
    Three years ago, Nicole had received a call from one of Oprah’s producers, saying the cake would be featured on the show. Nicole had hired a company to handle the influx of calls, braced her employees for eighteen-hour shifts and flown to Chicago with high expectations.
    Oprah had been lovely and had gushed about the cake for all of eight seconds, before shifting the conversation to Claire and a performance the talk show queen had seen just weeks before. There had been a brief flurry of orders, followed by nothing.
    â€œI don’t know how you do it,” Claire said earnestly. “Run the business. It’s a lot of work. How do you know how many doughnuts and bagels to make, and what kind? All those people working for you must be tough, too. I only have to deal with Lisa and sometimes that’s a problem.”
    â€œWe know what sells,” Nicole said, ignoring the need to snap at her. “We have years of history to look at.”
    â€œBut you run a very successful business.”
    Nicole shrugged. “I’ve been doing it for years. I started helping out when I was a kid. By the time I was in high school, I was handling most of it. I took over everything a couple of years later.”
    Her father had never been interested in the bakery. He’d done it out of obligation. But Nicole actually enjoyed her work.
    â€œI couldn’t have done it,” Claire said. “I don’t have any business sense.”
    â€œYou don’t have any practice,” Nicole pointed out. “Things would have been different if you’d stayed.”
    Claire bit her lip. “I’m sorry I left.”
    Nicole had the sense of being sucked into a conversation she didn’t want to have. “You were six,” she said grudgingly. “It’s not like you had a choice.”
    â€œBut you got stuck with everything here. The bakery, being on your own, Jesse.”
    â€œI screwed up that last one for sure,” Nicole muttered, trying not to fall into the painful combination of betrayal, anger and hurt that always filled her