By Wednesday, the bakery was buzzing with more than just the scent of fresh pastries.
The town had caught wind of Lena's upcoming partnership with Harper Holdings, and reactions were mixed. Some longtime regulars cheered her on. Others looked worried. And a few—particularly older residents—seemed downright skeptical.
"You're not gonna sell out on us, are you?" asked Mr. Dawson, a retired teacher who came in every morning for a bran muffin and black coffee.
Lena handed him his order with a smile. "Never. No matter what happens, the heart of Hart & Hearth stays right here."
Still, the murmurs gnawed at her. As much as she wanted to believe in this expansion, she didn't want to lose the trust of the community that raised her.
Later that afternoon, as the post-lunch lull settled in, she ducked into the kitchen for a breather. Ava followed, armed with two lemon bars and a look of concern.
"You good?" Ava asked, handing over a square dusted with powdered sugar.
"Define 'good,'" Lena said, biting into the dessert. The tangy sweetness helped, but not enough.
Ava leaned against the fridge. "It's normal. People hate change, even the good kind. You're doing something brave."
"It doesn't feel brave. It feels like I'm walking a tightrope with a mixing bowl in one hand and a contract in the other."
Ava snorted. "So basically, Tuesday."
That earned a laugh, and Lena was grateful for it.
Just then, the kitchen door swung open. Walker stepped in, sleeves rolled, holding a manila envelope.
"Sorry to barge in," he said, eyes flicking between them. "Lena, do you have a second?"
Ava winked and slipped out with a lemon bar in each hand.
Walker handed Lena the envelope. "This is the finalized version of the partnership agreement. Nothing's binding yet. I just thought you should look it over before tomorrow's press announcement."
She took it, the weight of it surprisingly real.
"And there's one more thing," he added. "We added a clause—your suggestion. Full creative control, final say over branding, recipes, and location decisions."
Her eyes widened. "Seriously?"
"Seriously," he said. "This only works if you stay you. That's what people are buying into. Not Harper Holdings. You."
Lena stared down at the envelope, heart full of both fear and gratitude. "I don't know how you keep believing in me like this."
Walker stepped closer. "Because I watched you walk into a boardroom and own it. Because you're the kind of woman who can turn a lemon bar into a declaration of independence. And because—" He stopped, swallowing. "Because I've loved you since the second you walked back into this town, and I think some part of me always did. I just didn't see it until now."
The words hung in the air like powdered sugar—light, sweet, a little messy.
Lena blinked. "Say that again?"
Walker smiled. "I love you."
Her heart soared—and settled—all at once. "Good. Because I love you too. Even if you still call croissants 'fancy bread.'"
He laughed, and she pulled him in for a kiss, warm and slow, like everything she wanted this next chapter to be.