The Abandoned Groom Married his Ex's Enemy!

Word traveled quickly that the Vances, or more specifically Rosalie Vance, had opened a bed and breakfast, café, and bakery at the old family estate.

Naturally, the neighbors came.

Some were genuinely curious about the business. Others wanted bread, pastries, or an excuse to finally see what had been done with a house they’d driven past for years.

Others mainly wanted to see Rosalie.

She’d been gone for a long time, after all.

Rosalie couldn’t possibly sit down with everyone who remembered her, but whenever one of the longtime neighbors came by, she made an effort to step out of the kitchen and say hello.

Most of the reunions were pleasant.

Mrs. Cecilia Ramos was slightly more complicated.

”Rosalie!”

Rosalie had barely stepped out of the kitchen before the older woman clasped both her hands.

”Cecilia. It’s been a long time.”

”Too long! I told everyone you would eventually come home.”

Rosalie smiled politely.

That was interesting.

As far as she remembered, Cecilia had barely spoken to her beyond the occasional neighborhood gathering.

”I suppose you were right.”

”I always knew you couldn’t stay away forever. Especially after everything that happened.”

There it was.

Cecilia lowered her voice, though several people stood close enough to hear her perfectly well.

”I told Elena that grief does strange things to a mother. People shouldn’t have judged you for leaving poor Alejandro and Alexander behind.”

Rosalie’s smile remained.

It simply became less accommodating.

”I appreciate the concern, Cecilia, but I’d rather you didn’t explain my life to other people.”

The woman smirked.

”Oh, I didn’t mean anything by it. You know me.”

”Not particularly.”

That created a brief silence.

Rosalie didn’t rush to fill it.

The woman recovered with a laugh.

”Well, of course. It’s been years. I only meant that everyone understood what you were going through.”

”No. They didn’t.”

Cecilia’s smile faltered.

Rosalie wasn’t angry. She wasn’t embarrassed either.

That surprised her more than anything.

There had been a time when she would’ve laughed awkwardly, changed the subject, and spent the rest of the day wondering whether she’d somehow been rude.

She wasn’t that woman anymore.

”What happened in my family is something I’ve already discussed with the people who actually needed to hear it,” she said calmly. ”I’d prefer to leave it there.”

”Of course.”

”Thank you.”

Rosalie smiled again, this time genuinely.

”Now, have you tried the cinnamon bread?”

The change of subject was unmistakable.

So was the boundary.

Cecilia apparently understood both.

”Not yet.”

”Then you should. That I don’t mind you telling the entire neighborhood about.”

Cecilia laughed.

A few minutes later, she left the counter carrying two loaves.

Rosalie returned to the kitchen without thinking much more about the conversation.

She had bread proofing.

That mattered considerably more than neighborhood gossip.

The business itself already gave them plenty to think about.

Their first few days made it clear that buying enough ingredients wasn’t simply a matter of ordering more of everything. They needed to know how quickly particular items sold, how much cold-storage space they actually had, and which prepared foods they couldn’t reasonably carry into the next day.

Rosalie sat with Alexander and Giovanni after one of the quieter periods and went through what had been left from the previous service.

”What did you do at Matteo’s?” she asked.

Giovanni looked over the list.

”Tracked what came back consistently.”

”Meaning?”

”If you keep throwing away the same thing, you’re making too much of it.”

Alexander looked at him.

”Brilliant.”

”Thank you.”

”I was being sarcastic.”

”I know.”

Rosalie ignored them.

”And pastries?”

”Depends on what they are. Ysabella’s reduced some bakery items late in the day rather than carrying them overnight.”

”A discount?”

Giovanni nodded. ”For things that are still perfectly good but won’t be at the quality you want tomorrow.”

Rosalie considered that.

She didn’t want customers learning to wait until closing simply because everything would become cheap, but she disliked unnecessary waste even more.

”So not everything.”

”No. And don’t start with a complicated system.”

Alexander leaned back.

”You’re telling my mother not to complicate something?”

”Yes.”

”Good luck.”

Rosalie gave her son a look.

Giovanni continued as though Alex hadn’t spoken.

”Start with a few items. See what actually remains unsold. Adjust production first. Discounts come after that.”

That sounded reasonable.

More importantly, Giovanni never told her what she had to do.

He simply explained what had worked at Matteo’s and Ysabella’s, what hadn’t, and why. Rosalie could take whatever was useful and leave the rest.

It was her business.

Giovanni seemed to understand that better than most people.

By Sunday morning, they’d already implemented one lesson from the previous day’s soft opening.

Tomas Reyes was back at the counter.

His hearing hadn’t miraculously improved overnight, and Alexander still intended to take him into the city for a proper evaluation. But Tomas could keep doing the part of the job he was actually good at while they waited.

So Rosalie had printed order sheets.

The café’s relatively small menu made the system simple enough. Customers checked the items they wanted with a pen, wrote the quantity beside each one, and marked whether the order was for dine-in or takeout. The system printed any available options directly beneath the corresponding item.

Tomas collected the completed sheet, checked that everything had been filled out properly, and passed the order along.

No trying to hear ham over jam.

No wondering whether someone had asked for tea or three.

And considerably fewer opportunities for breakfast to become a surprise.

”This is much better,” Tomas declared after successfully processing another order.

Alejandro stood at the register beside him, handling payments.

”You said your hearing was fine.”

”It is.”

”Tomas.”

”The system is still better.”

Alejandro decided not to argue.

More importantly, the arrangement allowed Tomas to return to the part of counter duty he’d always been particularly suited for.

People.

He greeted guests as they arrived, answered questions about the estate, and somehow remembered which returning customer had ordered what the day before.

If he didn’t hear something clearly, he simply smiled and gestured toward the order sheet.

”Please write it down for me, ma’am.”

Nobody seemed bothered.

A few customers actually preferred it. They could look over the menu without someone waiting for them to decide, and takeout orders were considerably easier to organize.

What had started as a temporary solution for Tomas might actually be worth keeping.

Alexander would still get his hearing checked.

Preferably before Tomas found another reason to insist there was absolutely nothing wrong with it.