As she polished a cracked tile, Alice wiped the sweat from her forehead with a flour-dusted apron. Across the counter, Emily watched her, her eyes narrowed. "You think you're too good for it, don't you?" she said, her voice low and even. "Alice, I'm trying to talk business," the baker replied, his dark hair slicked back from his forehead. "I'm not interested in anything I can do about your reputation." "That's because you're not the only one," Emily said, her silver hair bobbing with the motion. "The mayor has a score to settle with me, and it may have something to do with the town's upcoming gala. You'd do well to... reconsider." Alice's eyes flicked up, her gaze glinting with interest. "Ah, you're talking about the gala, I presume? I've been wondering when I'd get to see Charles again. The way he'd smile at me on those nights. You know I was hurt by him wanting someone else." "Perhaps," Alice said, her voice softening, "perhaps you should focus on your business for once." Emily's eyes seethed, but she didn't say what she was thinking.