Page 18 of Snowed Inn

“Of course I do.”

Truth? I don’t even know what a POS system is. Piece of shortcake? Pride of Sera?

I hear a soft thunk, like El has collapsed onto her pillow.

“You’re scaring me,” she croaks.

“I watched a video on it once,” I lie. “How hard can it be?”

Another wheeze-laugh. “Okay, fine. The bakery’s open from ten to four today.”

“No problem. You’re doing me a favor. If I have to be stuck out here in the snow, at least I want to feel useful. I got this. You go rest.”

“Thank you,” Ellie rasps. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas!” I echo a little too brightly.

I hang up and immediately google “how to use a POS system.”

One hour later, I trudge through the knee-deep snow to the food barn, still watching a tutorial on my phone.

I also fended off a series of escalating hysterical texts from Monica Moss asking whether I think it means anything that her director sent her the same lemon pound cake he sends to all of his actors.

Yes, I replied. It means he loves that pound cake.

She promptly declared pound cake boring but at least she’s left me alone since.

So far, I have learned the following things from the video:

POS stands for point of sale. (Duh.)

Every system is different. (Fantastic.)

This was a huge mistake.

As I stamp snow off my boots near the door, the back entrance to the bar swings open and Jesse steps into view.

Great. Just what I need. We may have managed to wash dishes together last night without killing one another but today’s a new day. I still haven’t officially forgiven him yet so I pretend he’s invisible and head straight for the bakery counter.

“What are you doing here?” he calls.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” I reply sweetly as I keep reading my phone.

I’ve been texting with Sera after El sent me her number. Sera’s already given me a long list of helpful information. The key to a successful bakery, Sera texted, is quality. She got up at three a.m. to make everything so it would be fresh. That’s commitment. It should all be in the back waiting for me.

I drop my purse into a free spot beneath the counter and immediately disappear into the back. All the yummy baked goods are there, in airtight containers and on cookie sheets covered with wax paper.

My first order of business is moving the goodies out into the glass case in front. I spend at least ten minutes doing that, which means I have five left to make sure the POS works like the one in the video I saw online. Fingers crossed.

I step over to the system and—eek—it’s nothing like what I watched online. I need to find another video. Stat.

Jesse jogs over to the bakery counter. “Fine. Merry Christmas. Now what are you doing here?”

I grin at him. “I’m running the bakery today.”

Jesse blinks. Hard.

Then he snort-laughs. Like a full laugh and a full snort.