It turned out that the 'worst that could happen when writing at a ballet studio' was Cece yelling at a group of six and seven-year-old girls.

Cece didn't mean to but they had congregated outside of Tristan's office. They were waiting for their ballet class to start and they were talking with the most obnoxious voices. Cece was certain her voice had never been that annoying when she was their age.

One moment, Cece was cursing them in her head as she tried to write and the next she was out in the hall with fifteen little girls dressed in pink, huddled together, looking at her in terror.

Tristan had appeared at her side a moment later, shoving her back into his office and giving her a threatening look before he left to smooth the whole thing over. By the time he made it back to the office, Cece had all her things packed in her bag.

"You're leaving?" Tristan asked.

"I just yelled at kids half my size and age. I think this is a new low."

Tristan waved her worry away. "The kids are fine. They are used to seeing me yell at my dancers, minus the whole 'trying to write' part," he said. "Stay."

Cece shook her head as she slung her backpack over one shoulder. It hadn't been just the kids talking. She hadn't written a thing since she had arrived at Tristan's office. Even though he had cleared space for her on his desk and taped up a 'Do not disturb' sign on his door, Cece had nothing.

She had forced herself to stare at the blank screen for a while, wondering if it was a lack of dedication on her part. But after that had nearly driven her insane, she had organized all of Tristan's desk drawers. She had then made herself sit back in front of her computer just as the little girls had started to gather outside the office.

"Thanks for trying to help, but it isn't working," she said.

Tristan only nodded as they switched places, Cece moving towards the door, while Tristan moved behind his desk.

"Cece?" he said, as she reached for the doorknob. She looked back. "Did you organize my desk?"

Cece shrugged like it shouldn't be a surprise anymore and left. She was hoping a break from the hairspray tainted air of the ballet studio would help clear her head, but four blocks away from the studio her brain still felt hazy from writer's block.

She wandered from the South End of Boston through the Back Bay. With nothing but more organizing waiting for her at home, she was in no rush. Without consciously deciding where she was going, she ended up at The Thinking Cup. She became aware of her location just outside the door and she looked at the sign with contempt. She didn't need a 'thinking cup', she needed an 'inspiration cup'.

Elliot came to stop beside her, following her in observing the sign.

"I always thought they should have put a brain in the teacup. It would have worked better with the name."

"That would be false advertising," Cece said.

Elliot conceded with a nod. "Plus, if we think tourists are bad, imagine the shop overrun with cannibals."

"You would get hit on a lot more," Cece offered.

"I was always told I have a good-looking neck," Elliot admitted.

"You're thinking of vampires."

"Cannibals don't eat necks?"

Cece grimaced at the image and dropped her gaze from the sign. All she saw now was a brain in the teacup.

She looked at her sister. "What are you doing here?"

"I needed to figure out the ending to my scene. I see writing at Tristan's office went well."

"I yelled at little girls."

Elliot thought about it for a moment. "It's not the worst thing you've done."

"You should have seen their terrified faces."

"They dance in a studio where Tristan teaches. I'm sure they have heard worse from him," Elliot said. "Plus, remember that one year at VBS."

Cece shook her head but quickly entered the coffee shop, remembering all too clearly the fateful day Elliot was talking about. She realized this wasn't the first time she had yelled at little kids.

"What's going on with Millie Kate?" Elliot asked as she joined Cece in line. "Maybe I can help you figure out where you need to go."

Cece sighed deeply. Elliot asked her question like there was a simple answer. It might be a simple answer if Cece knew what the heck was going on with Millie Kate.

"Come on," Elliot prodded as they moved up in line. "Just tell me what's going on in the story and I'll throw out a hundred ideas. They all might be bad but they might inspire the right idea. Where is Millie Kate?"

Cece looked at her sister uncertain but decided to give her idea a try. Even if nothing helped, at least it would be time spent not organizing.

"She is at this stupid party," Cece started, her voice carrying all her frustration. She shook her head. "I got her there fine because stupid Malcolm was still in the country and hadn't decided to betray me yet!"

"She's at a party," Elliot said, trying to steer the conversation onto the right track. "Who's party?"

"The Barlow's."

"Who are the Barlow's?"

"How should I know!?!" Cece said, throwing her hands up in annoyance.

"Well," Elliot said calmly, "it is your story, but now I see it was presumptuous of my to think you knew who the Barlow's are."

Cece noticed her sister's drop in tone and recognized it was her soothing voice.

"I'm sorry," Cece breathed out as they reached the register. "It's just I got her to this party and I can see the party and I know who is at the party, I know the freaking color of the napkins at this stupid party but for some inconceivable reason I can't get Millie Kate into the party. She is being very stubborn."

"Maybe she isn't supposed to go to the party?" a voice offered.

As the words hit Cece's ears it was as if someone had handed her the missing puzzle piece she had been looking for.

"Maybe she isn't supposed to go to the party?" Cece repeated slowly, letting the idea settle. As the information clicked into place she could see the bigger picture of her chapter and all the details started to come into focus.

The world around her began to transform. She could feel the heat turning humid and she blindly moved to the nearest empty table and pulled out her laptop.

Millie Kate looked up at the monstrous, white colonial house that loomed over her. There were only fifteen steps between her and the front door but she couldn't make herself move.

She could hear the clinking glasses and the soft chatter coming from the backyard. She could picture the party that awaited her. The Barlow's annual Garden Party was an event of the summer season you didn't miss, and yet Millie Kate remained on the sidewalk.

She heard quick footsteps approaching and she turned to see Wesley James Cartwright III walking along the sidewalk towards her. He looked harried: his hair sticking up in the back, half his collar popped. He was tucking in his pink polo shirt and didn't see her until he was only a few steps away.

"Millie Kate!" he said as he came to an abrupt stop.

"Wesley James," she said. She assumed her demure attitude, dropping her chin as she gazed up from under the brim of her hat. "What a pleasant surprise."

A grin spread freely across his face, telling her he knew exactly what game she was playing. It always took her by surprise how open he was with his emotions. Millie Kate was well educated in the game of southern flirting because her mama had raised her right.

While at times she loved playing coy just as much as the next southern belle, there were times she found it all long and tedious.

There was nothing tedious about Wesley James Cartwright III. He said what he thought and he was who he was all the time and in any situation. He had been raised right along with Millie Kate and their group of friends, learning the airs one puts on in public and the roundabout way everyone talked about everything but at some point, he had stopped participating. He knew the rules, he just refused to play.

So it didn't surprise Millie Kate when he took one look at her waiting outside the party and said, "wanna get out of here?" He nodded in the opposite direction of the party, like skipping out on the Barlow's Garden Party was a thing she would do.

Millie Kate surprised herself when she said, "yes."

Cece punched the period key after Millie Kate and Wesley James had had a very eventful afternoon and sat back, stretching. She turned her head from side to side but stopped when she looked out the window.

It had been early afternoon when she had entered the coffee shop with Elliot but from the low light out the window, it was clear the sun had already set. She looked at the time on her computer then rubbed her eyes. It was almost ‪seven o'clock‬!

She looked around the coffee shop and saw all the other tables were empty and the accordion windows had been shut. It felt like she had sat down to write only minutes ago, not hours. But she didn't care where the time had gone, she had finished a chapter. She had to tell Elliot.

"Did you like the coffee?" someone asked.

She looked up to find the same barista from the day before looking at her. She glanced down at the table and found an empty coffee cup. She didn't remember drinking the coffee, or even ordering it.

"It was great," she said, even though she had no clue how it had tasted. She always ended up in a sort of haze when she wrote.

She handed the barista the cup and packed up her computer. She stood and noticed the barista hadn't moved and was just looking at her.

"Have a good night," she said, giving him just enough thought to think he was weird before she pushed out onto Charles Street.

The whole world felt transformed into bright colors as she practically skipped the four blocks to her house. She smiled and greeted everyone she passed as if she was the queen of Charles Street. She even greeted their awful grumpy neighbor Ms. Newet.

"Elliot!" Cece sang in a loud operatic voice as she opened the front door. "I did it! I completed a chapter!"

Elliot came sliding into view from the kitchen, a piece of pizza in her mouth. "You what?"

"I finished the chapter!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"It's done, baby!" Cece cheered. "All twenty-five hundred words. Take that Malcolm Harcourt!"

"Yay!" Elliot sang, tackling Cece in a hug.

"Take that Malcolm!" they began to sing as they jumped around in circles in the front hall until they ran out of energy.

"I can't believe you did it!" Elliot said.

"It was all you!" Cece said. Elliot looked at her confused. "It was your comment about Millie Kate not going to the party. It sparked the whole chapter!"

"That wasn't me," Elliot laughed. Cece studied her, not sure if her sister was trying to pull a weird joke. "No, it was that new barista."

"Barista what?"

"The new coffee shop guy," Elliot offered as an explanation.

"Oh...well thank you barista boy," Cece said, "I wrote a chapter!"

"We need to celebrate!" Elliot said, her voice growing loud again with excitement. "Ice cream?"

"Ice cream!" Cece cheered, floating on a cloud of bliss into the kitchen.

**********************************************************************

Salutations Sasquatch!

That's a weird pastry!

I've been watching the British Baking Show. I'm sure if you add some caramel glaze and chocolate trees it would be a good bake.

That sounds like something Cece would make.

You know, I love Wesley James.

Weird change of conversation but I'll roll with it. I like Wesley James too. In fact, he became one of my favorite characters in the book.

That doesn't surprise me. You always fall for the daring and dashing men.

Are we talking about Sebastian Stan?

Girl! We're ALWAYS talking about Sebastian Stan.

Mote, momment, marshmallow!