After days of nonstop cleaning and painting, the place looks nice. Not my place — I haven't painted another drop at my house — but the bakery shines. The floor's swept, the walls are a Pepto-Bismol pink that Anessa assured both Katy and me will look great in a bakery.
"Riley, don't be like that. I don't want to steal your dad's nail gun. We just want to borrow it." Katy walks in from outside, her phone pressed to an ear. Another resident of Pelican Bay who apparently knows how to get service in this town.
"Who is she talking to?" Anessa asks.
I shrug. The decision was made to hang up wainscoting on the bottom section of the bakery wall. When Anessa went to find her hammer and nails, Katy jumped up with an excited declaration. She had a better idea. We're both just rolling with it.
As e
