Though her first love was art, she had decided early on that she was not going the starving artist route. She had grown up with that. Living hand-to-mouth, from sale to sale, watching her parents wait with growing bitterness for the recognition that had never come. Seeing how disappointment had sucked the life out of their marriage.

They had divorced the year Kate graduated from Tulane. The year after that her mother had been killed in a traffic accident, and her father had left New Orleans to become artist-in-residence at an art colony north of San Francisco. Though they spoke often and affectionately, geographical distance kept them from spending much time together.

No, after watching her parents Kate had decided on a degree in business and had relegated her beloved art to a hobby. Now, instead of on gallery walls, her stained glass creations hung in every window of The Bean. She created them because she loved the craft. Not for money. Not for recognition. Now and then she sold a piece, and when she did she was pleased. It was freeing not having to deal with the pressure of having to sell.

Kate knew how lucky she was. She could have been stuck working nine to five, pushing papers in a job she derived little pleasure from. And doing it day after day, just to keep a roof over her head.

And she would have, and made the best of it, because she was a practical person.

Something Luke had never been able to understand.

Funny, she thought, picturing him in her mind's eye. They had both come from low-income homes, both had attended Tulane on scholarship. Yet Luke had been determined to stick to his dream of being a novelist. He had refused to even consider journalism or copywriting. He had believed in himself that much.

What would it be like to have that kind of confidence? she wondered. To have that much courage?

The woman and her children served, Kate motioned to her managers. "If I can trust you two to keep your conversation respectable, I'll be in my office working on payroll." Kate looked from one to the other. "That is, if you want to get paid today?"

"Go…go." Blake waved her toward the back. "I'm broke."

Marilyn clucked her tongue. "You need to manage your finances better. There will be a tomorrow, you know."

He sniffed. "Words of wisdom from the queen of the college loans."

"Screw you."

"Sorry, darlin'," he drawled, "but you're not my type."

"You don't have to worry about me keeping it respectable, Kate," Marilyn said, looking pointedly at Blake. "I have the ability to think about other things."

Kate threw up her hands. "You two will never change.

I'm going to stop trying, just don't scare all the customers away. Okay?"

Not waiting for a response, Kate made her way to her office, checking supplies as she did, making notes of what she needed to order. The time cards were stacked neatly on her desk, waiting for her. With a sigh, she took a seat and got to work.

She had only been at it a few minutes when Blake tapped on her open door. "We have a problem."

She looked up and motioned him in. "What's up?"

"It's the baker. Again. He didn't show Saturday. Consequently, we were out of half our pastries before the after-movie crowd even arrived."

"Did you call?"

"Of course." Blake frowned. "I got the machine. Twice."

"And he still hasn't called back." She made a sound of disgust. "How many times does this make?"

"Four. The jerk." Blake lifted the heart-shaped paperweight from her desk, weighed it in his hand and set it back down. The Baccarat crystal heart had been a gift from Richard last Valentine's Day. "I really hate irresponsibility."

Kate smiled. That's what made him such a good employee. "I'll take care of this, Blake. There are other bakers in town, and we're going to find ourselves one."

"Thank God." He wagged his finger at her. "And this time you're not going to listen to any sob stories, right? It doesn't matter if his dog died or his wife left him, he has a commitment to us and our business. You're much too nice, you know."

A notorious soft touch, that was what Richard called her. Con men and door-to-door salesmen could see her coming. She smiled. "No hard luck stories, no excuses. That Pillsbury Dough Boy is history."

That brought a smile to his lips. "Good. Thank you."

Blake started out of the office. Kate stopped him. "How was business this weekend?"

"Excellent. Though it would have been even better if we'd had a full stock of desserts."

"How did the new kid do?"

"Beanie?" Beanie, so nicknamed because he wore a different hat every day, was the newest member of her crew. And the youngest. She had hired him because she thought he would do a good job and because she feared she might be his only chance at gainful employment. "He did okay. I had Tess stay right with him. Consequently, he made no major goof-ups that I saw and the customers seemed to like him. Not bad for his first shift."

Tess, Kate's other employee, though a good worker, tended to be a bit of a flake. Kate arched an eyebrow. "Tess? Training?"

Marilyn popped her head into the office. "Kate, telephone. It's Ellen. From Citywide."

Kate nodded, catching her breath. "Thanks." She picked up the phone. From the corner of her eye, she saw Marilyn nudge Blake. The two eased out of the office, closing the door behind them.

Kate smiled. All her employees and most of the regulars knew she and Richard were adopting. They also knew what she had been through and how badly she wanted a child.

"Hi, Ellen," she said. "What's up?"

"Good news."

"Good news?" Kate repeated, her heart beginning to pound.

"We've got a new birth mother in the program. She's beginning to review profiles. Yours is one of the ones I've selected for her. But before you get too excited," she added quickly, "you and Richard are only one of several couples she's initially considering. Although I see you as a good fit, she might not. Be prepared, before this is all over, I'll probably be showing your profiles to a dozen birth mothers."

"Oh." Kate took a deep breath, so disappointed she hurt. "I understand."

Ellen laughed, but with sympathy, not amusement. "No, Kate, I understand. You have every right to be excited. But I feel obligated to warn you, adoption can be every bit the emotional roller coaster of infertility treatments. You have to pace yourself.

"I know it's hard," Ellen continued before Kate could respond. "The waiting is hell and the ups and downs are worse. Knowing that, the best you can do is strap in for the duration."

"Pace myself." Kate laughed, a bit self-consciously. "You sound like Richard. Relax, he says. All things in their time."

"He's a wise man."

"I know, it's just that…that-" To her embarrassment, tears flooded her eyes and when she spoke, her words came out soft and broken. "We've waited so long, Ellen. I've…we've wanted a child for such a long time." Her voice cracked, and she cleared it. "I'm sorry. You must think me a complete dope."

"Far from it," the other woman murmured. "I think anyone who wants a child as much as you do is going to be a very good mother."

Kate regained a modicum of composure, grateful for the woman's understanding. "Thank you."

"I'll tell you this, Kate, from speaking with this birth mother several times now, I believe she's committed to adoption. I sense no conflict in her over whether to parent or give up her baby. And," Ellen added, "she is interested in you and Richard. You have many qualities that are important to her. With that in mind, I was wondering when you could get your photo album to me."

"I finished it last night and planned to run it over in the next few days."

"The sooner the better."

"I'm bringing it now. See you in forty-five minutes."