The Good Wife(42)

“Not going to drink it,” Lauren called after her.

Lisa turned, marched back. “Grandma is leaving her house to us. It’s going to be ours anyway—”

“I just can’t kick her out, and where would she live here anyway? I’ve got a room with Blake. You’ve got a room. Mom and Dad have the master.”

“We’d go live there. We’ll live in the back and operate the business from the front. We’d need to make changes to the living room and kitchen, but it’d work. Think about it. It could work. Our bakery would be small, inviting, easy . . . it’s perfect.”

Lauren was thinking about it, and her head, already fuzzy from the wine, was beginning to buzz with something else. Curiosity. Possibility.

“There’s no mortgage,” Lisa added. “The house is paid for. Grandpa made sure of that years ago.”

Lauren wasn’t ready to admit it, but she could see the bakery, could see the possibilities, and Grandma’s house would be perfect. But they’d need start-up money and there was risk, and God help her, she didn’t like failing, and people talking. “If we do this, it’s got to be legit, Lisa. Can’t do handouts and massive loans we can’t pay back. I hate owing people, you know it.”

“This is a John Meeks thing, you know that, don’t you?”

Lauren pressed her lips together. “Maybe. But I won’t go through life apologizing anymore.”

“Totally a John Meeks thing.”

“Great. We’ve established that. But I’m serious. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it, you and me. Our money, our muscle, our tears, blood, and sweat.”

Lisa grimaced and dropped back down into her chair by the fireplace. “You’re not making it sound very appealing right now.”

“You know what I’m saying.”

“I do. But we’re going to need some help, Lauren. At least in the beginning. A loan to help us get on our feet. Construction help to make changes to the kitchen and living room. New appliances for Grandma’s kitchen. Commercial ovens and stove. Dishwasher. Big refrigerator.”

Lauren snuggled deeper into her jacket and drained what was left in her glass. “Cupcakes won’t do it, though. No one is going to line up at our door at eight or nine for a cupcake. We’ve got to offer something in the morning that has substance. Something folks can grab on their way to work or school.” She set her glass down on the ground, stared into the fire, lost in thought. “Remember that place in Fresno you loved when you were going to school there? You loved their sweet cream-cheese croissants.”

“And their scrambled-egg-and-cheese ones.” She made a face. “I think I gained fifteen pounds that year eating at Le Croissant all the time.”

“Le Croissant,” Lauren repeated, still thinking. “They were popular, weren’t they?”

“Very. Both breakfast and lunch. Always drew a crowd. Plain croissants, chocolate croissants, breakfast ones, lunch ones—”

“That’s what we should do.” Lauren sat forward, held her hands out to the fire. “Not cupcakes, but croissants. We could open early for breakfast, and make croissant sandwiches for lunch, and then we could close midafternoon and I’d have the rest of the day free with Blake.”

Lisa mulled it over. “I like the idea. But I think we could do more than just croissants. Maybe a variety of breads and baked goods to give people options and a reason to keep coming back.”

“Cinnamon rolls.”

“Grandma’s coffee cake.”

“Aunt Virginia’s lemon meringue pie.”

“Would she share her recipe with us?”

“Wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

Lauren rubbed her hands, getting excited. “We could do this.”

“The Summer Sisters’ Bakery and Café,” Lisa said.

“‘Summer’ for Dad and Grandma, who have been here forever.”

“Summer for us,” Lisa retorted.

Lauren grinned. “I think we might want to open another bottle of wine after all.”

Bottle open, glasses full, they toasted new ideas and opportunities. “To the future,” Lisa said, clinking glasses.

“It’s going to be good,” Lauren said.

“It’s going to be bright.”

And it was.

Thirteen years had passed since that Halloween night and the Summer sisters had succeeded far beyond their wildest dreams.

Owning a business with Lisa had given Lauren flexibility and income.

But even more important, it’d gone a long way toward restoring her self-respect.

But now, as she rinsed her empty cereal bowl before leaving it in the sink, it crossed her mind that the restaurant had served its purpose.