LITMIR.BIZ

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href="#ulink_19127afc-c5eb-5c26-8f47-6c93673b0330">Chapter 1

      “Welcome to the Lillian’s of Seattle grand opening,” Lillian Drayson, founder of the renowned Chicago bakery told the large crowd gathered in her second location. “We Draysons—” she turned to look at her grand-niece, Mariah, and grand-nephews Chase and Jackson “—are excited to open up this new bakery in the Denny Triangle section of town. It’s a vibrant location with a plethora of professional and residential communities whose members will enjoy the delicious baked goods the Drayson family has been providing to the Chicago area for over forty years, and will now to the city of Seattle.”

      Applause erupted as the entire Seattle Drayson family cheered on Lillian, the matriarch, whose name they proudly represented at the new bakery.

      Mariah Drayson stood away from the crowd and surveyed her family as she sampled one of the salted caramel cupcakes from the back of the room. She knew she shouldn’t be eating another cupcake given that she’d already had one earlier that afternoon, but she had a tendency to eat when she was nervous. Opening her own bakery with her brothers was definitely something to make her worry. She’d used every penny of her divorce settlement from her ex-husband, Richard Hems, to cover her share, but deep down Mariah knew the venture would be worthwhile in the end. After the divorce, she’d chosen to go back to her maiden name. She was happy she did because Lillian’s was a family business run by Draysons.

      At age seventy-nine, her aunt Lillian was a force to be reckoned with, and when she’d decided to open a second location last summer, Mariah and her brothers had been initially reluctant. Mariah had been coming off the heels of a divorce and didn’t know anything about running a bakery. Sure, she had a flair for baking after the summers she’d spent in Chicago learning at Lillian’s knee, and during her self-imposed hiatus from work while she and her ex-husband had tried to become pregnant, but this was different.

      Aunt Lillian would be entrusting her name, her brand, to the three of them. After much discussion, however, Mariah and her siblings had figured that each of them brought something different to the table. As well as being the best baker, she knew advertising and marketing. Chase, the numbers man, would keep track of the bakery’s finances. Then there were was Jackson, bringing up the rear as a businessman and social media guru, and with a knack for cakes. Mariah smiled as she remembered how Lillian’s of Seattle had been born.

      The bakery was a labor of love for all of them, and they’d mutually agreed that Aunt Lillian should give the speech at the grand opening and ribbon cutting ceremony. It was her namesake, after all, and she was highly admired across the country after the Chicago Draysons had won the You Take the Cake competition three years ago on national television.

      “Can you believe we did it, sis?” Jackson asked from her side.

      Mariah hazarded a glance at her charming, handsome brother, who was two years her senior. Lillian’s was the first time he’d actually stuck with a job longer than a few months. Though he’d done well at the private school all three siblings had attended, Jack was easily bored. He’d had numerous entrepreneurial successes, but as soon as they began to blossom, he would sell them. Would this time be any different? Mariah sure hoped so.

      “No, I can’t,” she finally answered. After they’d found a location and Chase had worked out the finances, the bakery had come together, allowing them to open now, in early spring.

      Jackson glanced her way. “Don’t look so surprised, Mariah. With your baking skills, Chase’s business acumen and my charm, we have what it takes to make this place a success.” He swung his arms wide and motioned to the packed bakery, which was filled with family, friends, the news media and people who loved baked goodies. “We’ll show them that we’re as good as they are.”

      Mariah followed her brother’s gaze and saw it resting on Belinda, Carter and Shari Drayson, their cousins from Chicago. “Why are you so mistrustful of them?”

      “’Cause,” Jackson said, “you know Grandpa Oscar always says they can’t be trusted.”

      “We—” Mariah pointed between the two of them “—have no beef with our cousins. If Grandpa Oscar and Great-Uncle Henry have issues over money, that doesn’t mean we should. Belinda, Shari and Carter have been nothing but gracious to us and have helped us in the kitchen.”

      The three had flown in from Chicago several days earlier to help make pies, cakes and tortes for the grand opening. They’d been in the kitchen baking and sweating as much as the rest of them. And Carter, being the skilled artisan cake maker he was, had created several works of art that were proudly displayed in their windows this very moment.

      “That’s because they probably thought we were inept,” Jackson replied. “I mean, Shari’s running Lillian’s of Chicago. She probably wanted to make sure we weren’t going to mess anything up that might get thrown back on her.”

      “Well, we didn’t,” Mariah stated. “And this is a success. Can’t we just be happy today of all days?”

      “Happy about what?” Chase came over and joined their huddle, wrapping his arms around their shoulders.

      Mariah glanced up at her six-foot-four brother. He, too, was easy on the eyes, but in a studious way thanks to the wire-rimmed glasses, dress shirt and khaki pants he always wore while at the bakery. “We were just talking about what a great turnout this is, and I was reminding Jackson that we should be thankful so many people came out to support us.”

      “Yeah, I can’t believe how packed it is,” Chase commented. “It’s a good start, but we put a lot of capital into the place and it’s going to be a while before we see a return on our investment.”

      Mariah frowned. “Is money all you think about?”

      “Yes.” Jackson laughed and answered for him.

      “Shh,” Chase said, as a reporter posed a question to Aunt Lillian at the podium.

      “Mrs. Drayson, coming into Seattle is a risky move for you, is it not?” the young Caucasian man asked, with a microphone pointed up at Aunt Lillian.

      “How so?”

      “Well, Sweetness Bakery has ruled the Seattle market for years,” the man replied. “Other bakeries have tried to make inroads in the past and no one has been able to break into the market. What makes Lillian’s any different?”

      “Lillian’s is different,” she responded, “because we are a small family-owned business. I can promise the citizens of Seattle that they will enjoy the same high-quality baked goods as I make in my own kitchen, and that any customer would find in my flagship location on the Magnificent Mile in Chicago. That’s what puts us a notch up over the rest.”

      Jackson stepped forward into the crowd and clapped loudly. “That about does it for the speeches, folks. Please come over and sample the delicious offerings we’ve laid out today, as I think our products will speak for themselves.” He ushered everyone toward the tables.

      “Well said, Jackson.” Aunt Lillian gave him a wink as her husband, Great-Uncle Henry, helped her off the podium. “Come on over here. And Chase, Mariah, you come up here, too, for some photos.” She beckoned them all forward.

      Mariah smiled at the command in the older woman’s voice. She placed the half-eaten cupcake on a nearby counter and blotted her mouth with a napkin. She wished she could touch up her lipstick, but had to comfort herself with the fact that at least she wouldn’t have icing all over her mouth. “Coming...” She put on a bright smile and walked over in her brown peep-toe pumps toward the group.

      After all the baking she’d done during the last three days, her smudged attire wouldn’t do, so Mariah had gone home for a quick shower and change of clothes. She hadn’t known what to wear for such a grand event and had erred on the side of chic elegance. She’d slid into a tailored denim pocket skirt and coral shirt teamed with a brown belt, and put a cream blazer over her outfit before rushing back to the bakery.

      She’d arrived just in time to see her parents’ noses wrinkle as

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