Free To Catch a Treat by Linda O. Johnston

were packed and ready to go. Or who couldn’t make up their minds whether to pay by cash or credit card. Some of the best buyers, at least, were those we’d given samples to.
    I told Janelle the history of the two shops—how the former owner of Icing on the Cake, my good friend Brenda Anesco, had had to move down the mountain to care for her ailing mother and had not only sold her business to me but also supported my dividing the store into two shops. Plus, I passed along Brenda’s favorite instruction about Icing’s products: “Make them sweet, and make them good.”
    Eventually the time neared six o’clock, our closing hour. “Here’s what we do when we close up,” I told Janelle, and Dinah and I showed her that, too: how we locked the doors, including the one at the rear of the kitchen, got some things ready for the next day, and made sure that all computer and accounting information was locked in the office.
    â€œThis place is amazing,” Janelle gushed, and I again wondered if she was for real. “Will I see both of you at my party tonight?”
    My answer was an unqualified yes. Dinah’s was more equivocal, but she said she’d try.
    We exited the door at the front of the Barkery, a necessity since Janelle and I had our dogs with us and could not walk through the kitchen. I locked it behind us, then told Janelle to come around to the back of the stores, where my white Toyota was parked, as well as Dinah’s car. There was one other parking space. “If it’s vacant, you can use it when you’re on duty,” I told her. “We haven’t really discussed it yet, but tomorrow afternoon I’ll work with my assistant Vicky, our best scheduler, to put together a proposed schedule where you’ll be able to work sometimes with Dinah and/or me, and also sometimes with our other part-timers.” We had already discussed Janelle’s hourly rate by then, and she was okay with it, for now—until she had more experience.
    Fortunately, with the amount of business we’d been getting, I could actually afford having this many assistants, especially since the majority only worked for me part-time.
    â€œI guess that means I’d better not get too blasted at my party tonight,” Janelle said. “No matter how happy I am.” She bent and hugged Go, who panted a little and wagged his long black tail.
    Biscuit jumped on my leg as if to remind me that she needed some attention, too, and I obliged. Then I opened my car door and watched her jump in. “See you in a little while,” I told Janelle. And wondered how the party would go.

    I hurried home to feed Biscuit her regular dinner, not Barkery treats. Plus, I changed clothes and freshened up.
    I wasn’t sure why, but I really did want to party. Maybe because Reed had indicated that he, too, would be there. He had even offered to pick me up and drive me to the resort, but I’d demurred. This was far from being a date. But if he wanted to ask me out again another time, by ourselves, that would be a different story.
    I’d received an email that day from Jack Loroco, a guy who’d expressed romantic interest in me as well as business interest in my Barkery treats. When I’d met him several months ago, he’d said that he hoped to buy some of my recipes if his employer, the national quality dog food manufacturer VimPets, gave him the go-ahead. He lived in LA. In his email, he said he was hoping to visit Knobcone Heights sometime during the next few weeks, but he didn’t nail down a date. Hopefully soon , he wrote.
    Just as well. I found the guy good-looking and otherwise attractive, but I was just as happy right now pursuing a possible relationship with Reed. I didn’t need any distractions as long as things seemed to be progressing well.
    I hadn’t really gotten deeply involved with a man since I’d left a bad relationship behind in LA.