The display case was brimming with glossy pastries, wide-topped muffins and scones popping with golden currants. A tall torte gleamed under a sleek chocolate frosting and laces of whipped cream. Cookies as big as a man’s palm covered two delicate white sheets of baker’s paper. Wafting out of the kitchen was the scent of soup simmering.

On the chalkboard, written in a fine and careful hand, were the day’s specials. The glass had been polished to a gleam, the coffee was irresistibly fragrant, and a pale blue canning jar filled with cinnamon sticks stood on the counter.

Mia walked up and down the display, like a general inspecting troops, while Nell stood struggling not to wring her hands.

“I didn’t put the salads and the soup out yet. I thought if I waited till around eleven for that, people would be more apt to go for the pastries. There’re more tarts in the back, and the brownies. I didn’t put them out because, well, I think people want them more if it doesn’t look as if you’re oversupplied. And the brownies are more lunch and afternoon items. I put the torte out now, hoping customers might think about it and end up coming back into the shop again later for a slice. But I can rearrange things if you’d rather—”

She broke off when Mia lifted a finger. “Let’s sample one of those tarts.”

“Oh. Sure. Just let me get one from the back.” She darted into the kitchen, then back out again with a tart in a little paper doily.

Saying nothing, Mia broke it in two, handed half to Lulu. As she took the first bite, her lips curved. “How’s that for a reference?” she murmured, then turned back to Nell. “If you keep looking so nervous, customers are going to think something’s wrong with the food. Then they won’t order it, and they’ll miss something very special. You have a gift, Nell.”

“You like it?” Nell let out a relieved sigh. “I sampled one of everything this morning. I’m half sick,” she said as she pressed a hand to her stomach. “I wanted everything to be just right.”

“And so it is. Now relax, because once word gets out we’ve got a genius in the kitchen, you’re going to be very busy.”

Nell didn’t know if word got out, but she was soon too busy for nerves. By ten-thirty she was brewing another pot of coffee and resupplying trays. Every time her cash register rang, it was a separate little thrill. And when she bagged up a half a dozen muffins for a customer who claimed she’d never tasted better, Nell had to order herself not to spring into a dance.

“Thanks. Come back soon.” Beaming, she turned to the next customer.