Hearing Kristin mention her wife’s name sounded a bit as though Annie was being scolded for the thoughts she’d been having. As though Kristin was looking right through her and knew very well why Annie was in this kitchen with her. But that was impossible. Kristin would need magnificent psychic powers. Annie believed she hid her feelings well. However, she did think it best to change topic as quickly as possible.

“What did you do before you opened the Pink Bean?” Annie asked.

“Marketing. I worked for a wine company, of all things.”

“Ha, I worked in marketing too before I started the shop. A very long time ago.”

“Doesn’t everyone work in marketing these days? It’s such a catch-all. Internet marketing, content marketing, direct marketing, social media marketing, and the list goes on. I’m just glad it’s not my world anymore. The hours I worked were crazy. And for what? To make someone else rich? It’s so much more rewarding to run your own business.”

“As long as it’s actually running.” Annie adjusted the heat underneath the sauce a little. Sometimes she wondered if her infatuation with Kristin was inspired by what she had done for the book shop. Kristin Park had saved Annie’s Book Shop. There were no two ways about it.

“Nothing is rewarding without a proper challenge once in a while. That’s the very nature of entrepreneurship—and life,” Kristin said. She put a poussin—Annie recognized it from MasterChef—on every plate and dressed it with lettuce leaves and spinach and something cube-like—as though she was creating a work of art. “Is the sauce ready?”

Kristin wasn’t going to take Annie’s word for it and dipped a teaspoon into the saucepan to taste. “Okay. Good job, sous-chef,” she said, but she didn’t appear to have any time left for smiles. She grabbed the saucepan and artistically drizzled its contents onto the plates. “If you could grab two of these and bring them out.”

Such natural authority. Annie walked into the living room with the plates, to which she had contributed next to nothing. Had Kristin really needed her to heat up that sauce, or had Annie been allowed into her kitchen for other reasons?

“Everything has changed,” Jane said. She’d had the better half of the second bottle of wine Kristin had poured. “No publisher would want to publish all the books I write, and I wouldn’t blame them. The business model I’m using would be impossible for a publisher, because they have many authors to take care of, and I can just take care of me, which is how I like it.”