With No Reservations. Laurie Tomlinson

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       CHAPTER ONE

      A STICK OF Irish butter, cubed into tiny uniform squares. Half-cup portions of white sugar, brown sugar, glittering in the light. And the star of the show, a mixture of chocolate chips and crumbled homemade toffee that was good enough to eat with a spoon. All showcased in sherbet-colored ceramic pinch pots and bowls from the flea market.

      The mise en place, as the French said, was complete. Everything was in place.

      Sloane Bradley found a calming satisfaction in the certainty that, when these proportions were mixed and baked, they’d turn out the most perfect toffee-chocolate chip cookies in existence. Gooey with just the right amount of crisp.

      She was dialing up a crystal clear focus on the ingredients through her DSLR’s viewfinder when her cell phone buzzed against the kitchen table.

      Dana—VisibilityNet.

      Her account supervisor was early by a full six minutes, which couldn’t be a good thing. She was usually late.

      “Dana. Hi.” Any enthusiasm Sloane tried to muster fell flat.

      “Sorry, Sloane.” Dana didn’t miss a beat. “I know we’re ahead of schedule, but we had to move some things around today. Kathryn needs to start the meeting early.”

      “Kathryn?”

      Dana sighed. “Yes. She asked to be on the call.”

      Okay, something was definitely up. Why else would the founder of VisibilityNet—the one who was usually just a signature on the checks—need to be in on this call? In the span of a breath, the parts of Sloane’s job she treasured most shuttered through her mind. The subconscious rhythm of arranging ingredients and capturing the finished masterpieces. Her ability to conduct business calls from the comfort of yoga pants. Even the multitiered, color-coded spreadsheets.

      Maybe especially the multitiered, color-coded spreadsheets.

      Sloane nodded even though her supervisor couldn’t see her and swallowed hard. “Okay. I’m ready.”

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