by Elle Rush
“That’s a whole year away. Let’s get through this. I’ll have a nap this afternoon and come back fresh tomorrow.”
“I like that plan. I can keep an eye on them for the rest of the day.” After several batches already, they should know what they were doing. Packaging was the easy part.
It turned out she didn’t need to watch both Pats all day. About fifteen minutes after Vivian left, Pat One threw in her apron. “I quit.”
“What?”
“I didn’t think it would be like this. I thought I’d be decorating cakes and icing cookies. This is all grunt work.”
“Well, yeah, you were hired to complete a single order of the same cookie. Once that’s done, you get to work on other stuff, more fun stuff. You don’t start off doing wedding cakes.”
“I should. I was first in my class for my sugar skills and my piping technique. This is boring.”
Kris had had this same conversation on her first job. Luckily, she had it with a friend who’d talked some sense into her; she hadn’t complained directly to the boss. “I get that, but everybody starts at the bottom. You were specifically hired for a cookie contract. It’s not glamorous, but you’re doing a good job.”
“I can get a better job. I’m out of here.”
Then she left.
“This can’t be happening,” Kris whispered to herself. They needed Pat One. At least, they needed her hands. “Aunt Vivian is going to kill me.”
“It’s not your fault. This isn’t the first placement she’s walked out on,” Pat Two said.
“How about you? Are you sticking around?”
“If you’re willing to keep me, I’ll keep making cookies. I think I’ve been doing okay so far.”
“More than okay. Please don’t quit. We need you.”
“Then I’ll take the last trays out of the oven and start packaging. Vivian showed me how yesterday.”
“Fantastic.” Kris didn’t understand how Pat Two could be related to Cynthia. He was friendly and helpful and competent at the tasks assigned to him. She wanted two of him.
Vivian was understandably upset the next morning. “I checked all her references. She looked good on paper.”
“It happens, Aunt Viv. Totally Iced was simply not a good fit for her. Do you have anyone else in your files? Anybody who wants a last-minute job before Christmas?”
“Not that I can think of, but I’ll try, sweetie.”
But there was nobody. No recent graduates looking for work. No students. No semi-retired bakers who wanted to get back in the game for a couple weeks to earn some extra cash before the holidays. All her calls—and Kris’s—went unanswered.
Vivian and Pat Two worked all morning. Her aunt insisted she was fine to keep going, but when Kris caught her leaning against the doorframe to the storage room trying to catch her breath, Kris overrode her protests. “Home, bed, nap. Pat Two and Marie and I can do this. Our in-house customers will happily deal with a few days of chocolate meringues being the special.”
Wednesday was a disaster as they tried to find a new rhythm. They eventually got the cookie timing perfected but the three of them were there until eight o’clock packaging a dozen treats at a time. They were so far behind schedule, Kris mentally waved her weekend good-bye.
Then Thursday happened.
Pat Two had shared an idea the day before—pre-measuring the meringues’ ingredients and having them ready to pour. Seizing the idea to save even a few minutes, Kris did the same to prepare the bakery’s regular recipes. “Pat Two, you’re a genius.” They hit their daily goal and made up some of their shortfall from earlier in the week. It was enough to give Kris hope for the weekend. She’d still be working, but she might be able to squeeze in a couple hours for a personal life.
“Call him,” her aunt said.
“Who?”
“Rudy, of course. Weren’t you supposed to have a third date this weekend?”
“Yes, but I still have a ton of work left to do.”
“The cookies will wait. You need to take a break before you sacrifice your health like I did. Put sugar and eggs out of your mind for a while. You’re young. Act like it.”
“I’m twenty-eight.”
Her aunt levelled a glare on her that lacked its usual fire. Kris laughed. “Fine, I’ll call Rudy to give him an update, but he’ll have to do the asking.” She’d apologized for flipping out on him when he brought over the contract, but that was the last real conversation they’d shared.
When Vivian bustled her into the office and closed the door, Kris ran out of excuses. She took a deep breath and began to type. “Hey, can you talk?” she texted.
“To you, always.”
“NPU cookies finally under control.”
“Working this weekend?”
“Yes, but not Friday night.”
“Date night?”
“If you want.”
“I WANT. Will text you the details.” Then he added a red rose emoji.
When Kris emerged smiling, she saw a weight lift from her aunt’s shoulders. “I assume he asked you out.”
“Friday night. Details forthcoming. To me, not you,” Kris added.
“I’m not offended. Marie will fill me in,” her aunt teased.
She laughed because it was true. “Don’t you have cookies to make?”
Friday didn’t go quite as smoothly. Kris opened the doors to two delivery trucks. She didn’t mind the first, which was a flower arrangement from Rudy. The card read “Looking forward to tonight.”
She whipped out her phone and took a selfie with the bouquet. She sent the image and a short message. “Beautiful!”
When he responded with “So are the flowers,” her heart melted. The work day couldn’t end soon enough.
The second package was much less welcome. It contained a variety of paper plates, bags of biodegradable cutlery, and assorted napkins, all with different Christmas themes. “This is ridiculous,” Kris complained to Marie. “I didn’t order any of these. I don’t even recognize the company name. There’s got to be two hundred dollars’ worth of product here. I absolutely do not have time for this.”
Nevertheless, she called the company. Kris assumed people would want to have a massive box of misdirected goods returned if they weren’t paid for, but it wasn’t that easy. “You’ve received our standard corporate trial pack,” the customer service operator said. “The variety of plates and napkins are complimentary when samples are requested.”
“But I didn’t request a sample pack,” Kris repeated.
“I don’t know what to say to that.” She heard clicking in the background as the representative asked her to wait while she searched for Kris’s name again. “I think you’re right. The order is addressed to Kris Kringleton but didn’t come from Totally Iced. But since it’s unlikely we’ll receive the returned shipment before the end of the season, it’s not worth to ship it back. Please keep it, with our compliments.”
Kris couldn’t argue with free. But she did growl about losing more storage room. “At least some of the shipping boxes are gone now,” Marie said in commiseration as they reorganized the closet yet again, keeping the costumes buried at the bottom. “Try not to think about it when you’re on your date with Rudy.”
“I’m pretty sure it’ll be the furthest thing from my mind.”
Chapter 11
Rudy
Like the date Kris planned, his didn’t require fancy clothes. Rudy had recommended she dress warmly, so when he arrived at the bakery, he was pleased to see her in heavy jeans, thick boots, and a monstrously long, cherry-red scarf over her parka.
“I know you’ve been crazy busy this week, so I’ve planned a fun but short evening.”
“How did you know how busy I’ve—” Kris halted herself mid-question. “You have spies everywhere. Thank you. I’m excited to go out, but I’ll appreciate the early night.”
“My spies also said you had a particular fondness for hot chocolate from the Coffee Run truck. I know wh
ere they’re going to be.”
Kris gave a fist pump.
If he’d had any warning the temperature planned to drop to twenty below, he would have changed his plans. Rudy slapped his hands together to get the blood flowing. The thick leather mittens made a muffled whump, but the fleece inside rubbed warmly against his fingers. He was glad Kris hadn’t backed out of their date under the stars. Of course, most people pictured a walk along a sandy beach when they heard that description. It was a little different when it was December in Canada.
Olympic Plaza was in the heart of downtown Calgary. In the summer, it was a gorgeous green space with a pretty reflecting pond, where business people took outdoor breaks over lunch and visitors could enjoy the park all day long. In the winter, the city let the pond freeze into a huge, outdoor skating rink. It was crowded from opening to close. The daytime skaters enjoyed sunshine and blue skies over the white rink. The evening visitors had the city skyline and Christmas decorations to light up the night.
Rudy thought she’d be more excited than nervous, until he discovered why she was so quiet. “I know you don’t ski, but what do you mean, you don’t skate? Do you know how?” He gave her gloved hand a squeeze as they stood in line for rental skates.
“In theory. I haven’t been on skates since…” Kris paused to think about it. “Since elementary school. You may have to hold me to keep me upright.”
They found an open bench and pulled off their boots. Kris yanked on the laces and tied the white leather tightly around her ankles. Rudy did the same to his black ones. Kris wobbled for a few steps on the outdoor carpeting until she made it to the ice. She balanced carefully while she sent him on a lap around the rink to warm up. “One of us has to be in skating shape or we’ll both be in trouble,” she joked.
She was right. Her feet almost went out from under her the second she took her first step, but he had a firm grip on her biceps. She took another step, and again he was the only reason she didn’t hit the ground. “Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea,” he murmured. They were supposed to be having fun, not trying to avoid serious injury.
Kris shook her head. “Nope.” A puff of air came out of her mouth like a cloud. “I can’t quit on my first try. Let’s do it again, slow and steady.”
Rudy waited till she had both skates firmly on the ice. Then he turned and began skating backward slowly, towing her around the rink. Kris didn’t even move her feet. Her entire job consisted of not falling down. She grinned when they completed their first circuit. Doing that one thing had taken all her concentration; she looked exhausted, but adorably pleased with herself.
He could have suggested they end the date there, but her proud smile made him reconsider. “Look at you!” he said. “I think you earned a hot chocolate and a break before we go again.”
“That sounds perfect.”
Rudy pulled her to a bench on the edge of the ice. “I’ll be right back.” He kept an eye on her while he waited to give his order at the food truck. Now he had another hobby to add to the list of things he knew about her. Kris liked to people-watch. She looked perfectly content checking out the rest of the skaters: a pair who knew what they were doing spun and pirouetted in the middle, little rookie skaters wobbled by with hockey helmets on, and several couples glided by slowly, hand in hand.
He looked twice at the cinnamon buns but decided to save them for their second cup of cocoa. If they were outside for any length of time, they’d need one. As he carefully carried the cups back to Kris, he noticed Cynthia Quinn approaching her from the other side. The brunette wore a spotless white parka, with a matching white scarf and hat.
He was close enough to hear the conversation, but a mob of mini future hockey stars blocked his path. Rudy heard Cynthia say, “Kris, I thought that was you. Let me introduce the caterer for the party on Saturday. Peter Watson, this is Kris Singleton. She’s on the board with me.”
A tall, skinny man stuck out his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
Rudy watched as Kris slowly made her way to her feet and balanced carefully while she shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you too, but what do you mean, Cynthia? Our caterer? We aren’t having a caterer.”
They’d had this discussion half a dozen times already: at the meetings, by text, through email. The menu was already set.
“I made an executive decision,” Cynthia said dismissively. “I couldn’t bear the thought of plates full of hotdogs and chips and unpeeled Mandarin oranges. What we have planned will be so much better.” She plucked at the fake fur lining her mitten cuff. “I guarantee will be worth the cost.”
Rudy began weaving through the children surrounding him, his patience expended as he listened to Cynthia try to bulldoze Kris into accepting an underhanded move as a done deal.
He should have known she could handle it by herself. “Mr. Watson, I’m afraid there has been a mistake. A terrible mistake.”
The other man’s attention bounced between the two women. “What’s going on? Cynthia told me it was a Christmas party for two hundred. I’m willing to negotiate a good price since my business is new. We discussed starting with avocado gazpacho—”
“A children’s Christmas party,” Kris interrupted. “A “Jingle Bells, Batman smells” age kids party.”
“Definitely no gazpacho then,” he said.
“Peter, this is a minor misunderstanding. We definitely want the menu we discussed.” Cynthia turned redder by the second. The contrast against her scarf made her look like a tomato. She turned to Kris. “You are humiliating me.”
Rudy arrived and wrapped his arm around Kris’s waist to show his support in every way she needed it. “I’m sorry you were misled, Mr. Watson. There is no catering contract.”
“I’m sure we can come to some kind of understanding,” Cynthia said quickly. “Can I speak to you for a moment, Rudy?”
Her friend was having none of it. “You planned that menu knowing the party was for children? Do you have any idea how inappropriate those dishes are? Four-year-olds and bruschetta with balsamic vinegar?” He shuddered. “It would destroy my reputation to misjudge my clients so badly. How could you suggest that? Are you even authorized to sign the contract?”
“No, she’s not,” Rudy said. “Contracts require board approval, and they run through Jennifer Chang, the chairperson.”
“I thought I had your support, Rudy. I can’t believe you’re turning on me like this, just to support your new girlfriend!” Cynthia’s tantrum was drawing a crowd, but he couldn’t afford to show weakness. They could end up with Christmas clowns.
“And you,” she continued, whirling on Peter. “I offered you this chance because I thought we could work together in the future. I have dozens of weddings in my calendar. Dozens! Now I wouldn’t work with you if you paid me, and don’t even think of asking me for a referral for the Jameson party.”
Finally, Cynthia turned on Kris. “Everybody—you especially—have undermined every idea I’ve had for the stupid Christmas party. Since I’m obviously a liability on the committee, I’ll save us both problems in the future and resign right now.”
“The party is in a week. You’ve put in too much work to quit now.”
“No. You obviously think you’re better off without me. I’m happy to oblige.” She spun again, her coat flapping around her like a cape, and stormed away. Her exit would have been much more dramatic if she hadn’t hit a patch of clear ice in the middle of the rink. Her arms flailed the windmills and her feet went in opposite directions. She caught herself in a crouch before her behind hit the ground. Rudy tried not to laugh as she slowly minced her way to the far edge.
Kris slapped his arm. “It’s not funny.”
“It was a little funny.”
“Are you sure you were done with her before our first date? Because I don’t think she got that memo.”
“I was more than clear that our first date was our last. Don’t let her get in your head,” he warned. “After that, I doubt she’ll be back.”
&
nbsp; “I almost hope she will be,” Kris said to his shock. Then she continued. “Cynthia was the entertainment coordinator. There’s no way she’s going to tell us what she has organized. We’ll have to make a whole new plan. In a week!”
“I’ll handle it,” Rudy said. Kris couldn’t add another thing to her already overflowing plate. He barely got to see her as it was. If she had to perform Cynthia’s duties in addition to the cookie contract, he might as well write off any chance of seeing her until the new year. “I already know some of what she was arranging. I can finish the job, no problem.”
“There is one.” Kris turned back to Peter Watson. “I’m sorry you got pulled into the middle of this. I don’t know what your cancellation fees are—"
“It’s okay.” The sandy-haired man shook his head. “We literally signed the contract this afternoon, so it’s not like I’m losing any business. Cynthia was right. My business is just starting, so my holiday calendar is empty. This project was supposed to get me some visibility in the city, but I don’t think I’d get a lot of wedding bookings from a kids’ party. No offense.”
“None taken,” Rudy said.
“But since we’re talking, do you have any friends with weddings coming up? Or your own?” Peter asked.
“What?”
Peter waggled his hand at him and Kris. Rudy still had his arm around her waist. He hadn’t noticed that she’d covered his hand with her own. Then Peter pointed at his head, and Rudy realized he and Kris were also wearing matching toques: his was navy with white trim, while hers was white with navy.
“No weddings here,” he said. “This is our third date.”
“Keep me in mind. You never know,” Peter said. “Good luck with your party.”
“Thanks, we’ll need it.”
Rudy guided Kris back to the bench, and they sipped their hot chocolate in silence for a few moments. “How much trouble are we in with the party?” she asked.
“None.”
“I do have—will have—the food under control. I know Jennifer has taken care of the location and decorations. You got all the corporate donations, and you already took care of buying the gifts after Warren bailed on us. But we’re still looking for a Santa, and now the entertainment is falling through the cracks. It can’t all fall on your shoulders.”