“Hey, Eddie,” I said. “What’s going on?”
“Brooklyn, you’ve got to get to the bakery. It’s an emergency.”
Chapter39
“I’ll be there in fifteen,”I said and then I hung up. I looked at Mia and then the technician. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
“What happened?” Darcy asked.
“I don’t know—but it’s something to do with the bakery.”
I took the towel from the technician and dried my feet. “I need to pay.”
“I’ve got it,” Mia said.
“You can’t keep paying for stuff,” I said.
“Sure I can,” she said. “Don’t argue with me.”
I slid into my flip-flops and grabbed my purse. “Thanks. I—yeah. Thanks.”
When I arrived at the bakery, Jazz and Brielle were already there, standing in the back alley with Eddie. Jazz had tears streaking down her cheeks and Brielle’s color was high, and she was clearly pissed. Eddie was six-feet-tall, jacked like a bodybuilder, but a giant teddy bear of a man who loved to bake.
“Was anyone hurt?” I asked.
Eddie shook his head. “No.”
“Then it can’t be that bad, right?” I demanded.
“It’s bad,” Eddie said bleakly. “The ceiling over the bakery collapsed.”
I blinked. “Itwhat?”
“Collapsed,” Brielle repeated. “A pipe burst upstairs, and the weight of the water collapsed the ceiling. Eddie turned the water off at the street so it’s not flooding anymore, but the damage is done.”
Without a word, I stalked into the bakery, my feet sloshing through water on the floor.
It looked worse than when it was under construction. The counters were covered in wet debris. Plaster littered the floor, and the ceiling had a gaping hole.
“What do we do?” Jazz sniffed. “This place is completely unusable.”
I didn’t bother answering as I moved deeper into the bakery to the main room. I took the photo of my father in his shop off the wall and hugged it to my chest as if I could keep it safe.
“Brooklyn?”
I turned to see Brielle, Jazz and Eddie staring at me. Jazz’s eyes were still watery, but she’d found the means to compose herself.
“First thing’s first,” I said. “I’ll call the insurance company and file a claim. And then…”
“Then?” Eddie repeated.
“Then we need to sit and discuss how the hell we’re going to pull off Imogene Oglethorpe’s wedding.”
“This sucks!” Jazz stated. “This sucks so hard I can’t even—”
“You can fall apart later,” I stated. My phone rang and I answered it. “Hey, Mia.”
“Hey,” she said. “What happened? Is everything okay? Was anyone hurt?”