The Velvet was fairly peaceful when Seulgi rolled in just before 11 that next morning.

There was an elderly couple at the table in the corner, but the rest of the place sat empty.

Irene was occupied in the back, but after hugging her to pieces, Yeri set her up with breakfast and some coffee on the house.

It wasn’t long though before Irene appeared, half covered in flour, but smiling as if she’d had the best morning.

She easily warmed up a room. “Morning, sleepy head.”

Seulgi leaned back in her chair, jumping right past morning greetings to the heart of the matter. “Who made this?” The cinnamon roll she was currently inhaling was unreal, beyond that even. “I need to look this person in the eye.”

Irene beamed and snapped Seulgi playfully with the towel she carried. “I did. Who did you think made it?”

She rubbed her arm. “Ouch. Mean. For real?”

“Yes, for real. Why do you doubt me?” She pointed to the little girl on the logo above the counter and then back to herself. “The Velvet. Nice to meet you.”

“I remember this place being good, but not this good. Have you sold your soul for baking secrets? Is that what’s happened here?”

Irene slid into the chair across from her and rubbed the back of her neck.

She’d probably been up since o’dark 30, which made Seulgi feel a little sheepish for the 9 hours she’d just stolen.

“That would be a better story, but no. The truth is that I’ve been experimenting a bit. Tweaking some of our older recipes and developing a few new ones. With all the Starbucks popping up like Whack a mole, we have to step up our game, and even that hasn’t been enough. When the newest store opened right at the edge of town, our morning traffic took a real hit. Take a look around.”

Seulgi did and a sinking feeling came over her at the implication.

Only the one other table was occupied.

Her voice was quiet. “So are you in trouble?”

“We’ll be all right.” Irene smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Seulgi sensed that wasn’t the whole truth.

While she was worried, this didn’t seem like the moment to push.

Instead, she changed the subject.

“How’s the new house working out?”

“Well, it’s not exactly new, which is kind of the problem. Turns out ‘charming older house’ is actually code for ‘hope you like home repairs.’ The newest casualties are the shutters. It’s quite tragic.”

Seulgi quirked an eyebrow.

“I had a jumper.”

“No.”

“Yes, and don’t look so horrified. Don’t think I don’t know when you’re making fun of me. I think I taught you how.”

Seulgi laughed. “I forgot that part.” A pause. “I could fix it for you, you know, if I thought you’d be eternally grateful. Maybe we could negotiate a back alley cinnamon roll agreement of sorts.”

Irene studied her curiously. “Back alley cinnamon rolls I can do, but since when do you know anything about home repair?”

Seulgi raised her shoulder and let it drop. “You can learn a lot on a movie set. One of the perks.”

“Apparently. But I don’t want to pull you from your much needed R and R. I thought that was kind of the point of your whole sabbatical back here.”

“Yeah, among other things. But it’s either help you with your tragic shutters or shuffle papers for the dueling doctors at the clinic. I need to stay busy, and I’m thinking the shutter thing sounds pretty good. Plus, I enjoy the sun time. I look good slighly in a tan.”

“Done. Hired. In return, all the baked goods you can eat.”

“So incredibly dangerous.”

“My middle name.”

They shook on it and Irene stood. “Mayb