Chapter Two

“Really, Karen, I could have handled it myself,” James scoffs, pouring himself another cup of coffee. Karen’s smile is sharp and sarcastic over the top of her own mug, and she raises one eyebrow skeptically. James rolls his eyes at her, turning away to grab the milk from out of his refrigerator and pressing his lips into a thin line when he comes back empty-handed. Powdered creamer is for emergencies only, and he knows Karen would take it as a personal victory if he admitted to being distracted enough with work that he forgot to pick up more milk from the store.

“You were saying?” Karen asks with a pointed look at his hands, then at his coffee.

“That’s different,” he says, taking a sip of his black coffee and fighting down the urge to spit it into the sink, just to make a point. Karen looks about two seconds away from bursting out laughing, and James wants to go back to sleep for an hour or twelve. “I didn’t even know you had a list of bakers drawn up, I was halfway through making one as soon as I knew our last one was backing out.”

“I know,” Karen says, setting her coffee mug down daintily. “I added the ones you were thinking of and finished it off myself.”

“When did you get ahold of it?”

“You brought it with you to Mom’s last weekend and nearly forgot it on the table when you left.”

Ah. James knew he was forgetting something. Maybe Karen was right after all, but he still won’t admit it to her. Sibling rivalry never dies out, or something like that; one would think that starting a company together erases a bit of that, but James is living proof that it only makes the dynamic worse.

“So,” he says, once he’s washed down the disgusting aftertaste of straight black coffee with a bite of the heavenly bagel Karen had brought him. “Who is it, then?”

“Little place called Matthew’s,” she replies, with a gesture at the bagel in his right hand.  “Mom mentioned it when we came over, which you would remember if you took your head out of your work long enough to make conversation with her.”             

James pulls a face at her, mostly to deflect his lingering guilt at the fact that she’s right. He vaguely remembers his mother saying something about the little bakery that she got her rolls from every morning as she brought out a fruit tart she had bought for their weekly dinner. James realizes it must have been from the same place and is placated a bit by the fact that it really had been the best tart he had ever tasted. Not that he doubts Karen, of course. Her ability to rope in exceptional companies has always blown him away.

“Are they covering the cake for the next wedding, then?”

Karen nods, reaching into her purse to dig out a file that was perfectly flat, despite being far too big to fit neatly inside the little bag. She hands it over to him, and he flips it open to find a few pictures of beautifully decorated wedding cakes. “I’ll send someone in for a tasting session on Thursday. I pulled these off the bakery’s website, but it seems like all the weddings they’ve done so far are little local ceremonies. Not very well known, but worth the gamble, I think.”

“We can make them well known,” he says with a shrug, taking another bite of his bagel. If what he’s tried so far is any indication, he won’t have any problems with Matthew’s. “I’ll stop in Thursday myself to try it out.”

“No you won’t,” Karen says sharply, and James blinks at her, surprised by the sudden hint of venom in her voice.

“What? Why not?”

“Because you need a break,” she replies, taking the file back and stuffing it back into her too-small purse. “Go to a museum, read a book, I don’t care. Take a trip to the beach. I’m giving you the week off.”

“Aren’t I your boss?”

Karen rolls her eyes. “As if, kid,” she says, and James grimaces at the reminder that she’s older than him, if just barely. “Equal shares and equal pay means I get to tell you what to do half the time.”

“The wedding is in a month,” he whines, and Karen mumbles something under her breath that sounds mocking and vaguely offensive. “I have so much I need to do.”

“We have very little that we need to do, thanks to your all-nighters, and I can handle dress fittings and guest lists for four days. Take a break, Nicholas.”

James grimaces. Karen never uses his first name unless she means business. He sighs, well aware that it’s impossible to argue the point with her once she has that telltale set to her mouth. “Fine,” he says, “but you run decisions by me before you make them.”

Karen rolls her eyes but agrees, downing the rest of her coffee. “Really, though,” she says as she’s rinsing her mug in the sink. “When was the last time you went out for a night? Hung out with friends, watched a game and had a beer or whatever it is normal guys in their twenties do?”

“Not my thing,” he says, but Karen steadfastly ignores him.

“When was the last time you went on a date?” she continues, and that’s just unfair, because she knows the answer to that. He glares at her only half-jokingly, and the expression on her face is pure satisfaction. “Exactly. You’re a professional wedding planner that has absolutely no love life.”

“I’m career-focused. And I’m an event planner.”

“Right.”

James groans, taking another sip of his coffee and choking when he realizes it’s still black.

“Go buy some milk,” Karen sighs, gathering up her things and heading toward the door. She’s gone with a wave, leaving James feeling just a bit like he’s been punched in the gut.