by C. J. Birch
Hayley let her head fall back. “If you keep doing that, I might just submit to anything.”
“Okay, spill.” She pulled away despite Hayley’s protests. “You’re up to something. You’re not quitting, are you?” That thought filled Lauren with dread. Hayley had quickly become one of her best line cooks. She was reliable, had a great attitude, and didn’t give Lauren any crap. She could work on her speed, but that would come with time. The sad fact was, Lauren knew Hayley wouldn’t be there as long as Pete had. Her dad had spotted what Lauren and Ramiro both knew—Hayley was better than this, and if she put even a little bit of effort into formalizing her culinary skills, she could do great things. Lauren loved Pete, he was family, but his worth had been in who he was, not so much in his cooking skills. Losing Hayley would mean searching for another decent line cook, and she wasn’t up for that right before the holidays.
“Why don’t we sit for this?” Hayley grabbed two plates of pancakes. She set one down at Lauren’s place and took a seat opposite.
“You’re not quitting, are you?”
“I’m not quitting. No.” Hayley poured syrup on her pancakes, slathering the mound with the light-brown gloop. “I…” She hesitated, her fork poised to cut into the first pancake. “You know what?” She set her fork down and reached toward the counter for her phone. Hayley scrolled through until she’d pulled up an email and handed the phone to Lauren.
Beyond confused now, Lauren accepted it and began reading. It took a second for understanding to dawn.
“I didn’t know your email, so I used mine.” Hayley worried her top lip.
Lauren looked up at Hayley, shocked. “You entered me in Bake or Die? I…”
“You keep saying you don’t have the skills to win, but how are you going to know unless you try? Besides, winning isn’t always the goal. Sometimes it’s important just to compete.”
Lauren was speechless. She would never have signed herself up, and it wasn’t the thousand-dollar entrance fee. It was the fear of failing. Again.
“How did you pay for the entrance fee?”
“Don’t worry about that. You just worry about baking like the fucking queen you are.”
Before Lauren could press the matter, someone started pounding at the door. Hayley answered, to find Theo, sopping wet from the waist down, eyes wide in panic.
Lauren was out of her chair in an instant. “What happened?”
“A pipe burst. There’s water everywhere.”
“Okay. Give me five minutes to get dressed.”
When she came back out, only half dressed, Theo was peering into the kitchen. “Holy shit. Did you let a hurricane cook you breakfast?”
“It’s not that bad.” Hayley shooed him out of the apartment.
Lauren swept past Hayley.
“Do you need any help?”
“Probably best if you stay here. Too many cooks and all that.”
* * *
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
The entire kitchen paused to look at Lauren, none of whom had ever heard her swear. Theo looked almost panicked.
The kitchen floor was covered in several inches of brown water, and it was sweeping toward the counter and main dining area.
“It’s just streaming water. I don’t know how to stop it.” Theo pointed to a spot under the sink where a waterfall was gushing onto the floor.
Lauren took a moment to assess the situation. They’d be fine if they could redirect the water that was already there so it didn’t make it to the diners. “Ezra, we need to shut off the water. There should be a valve behind the pipes in the sink.”
Ezra held out the handle to a valve. “You mean this? Yeah. It broke off.”
Lauren groaned and scrubbed her hand over her face. “Okay. See if you guys can pop the drain lid in the floor by the freezer and redirect the water. Do we have anything that can cover the broken part of the pipe to keep it from coming out so fast?”
Ezra turned to run out of the kitchen. “I’ll check the basement.”
“In the meantime, I’ll call a plumber and see if we can get someone over here as soon as possible.”
Lily and Vic were up front, keeping an eye on the situation in back, but trying not to let on there was any problem. The last thing they needed was to shut down and lose business. Aaron would flip out.
In the end they had to turn off the water for the entire building to stop the flow. Theo was able to stockpile several buckets of water beforehand, so they were able to wash dishes and make food. Lauren called Hayley in to help with the cleanup, and once the plumber arrived and patched the pipe, things improved. Lauren considered the disaster averted since she hadn’t had to close for the day, and as far as she knew, none of their customers was aware of any problems.
It wasn’t until much later, after she’d locked up for the day and was cozied under her favourite throw with a glass of wine, that she stopped to think about the Bake or Die contest. The idea of it filled her with dread but also excitement.
Chapter Twenty-five
A week ago Hayley would’ve assumed the only person who could make such a mess in the kitchen was her. But here they were. The kitchen was a disaster, and she’d had no part in it.
Lauren popped up from behind the counter. “Good. You’re home. I need to you to taste this.” Her hair was pulled back in something resembling a ponytail, her blue-and-purple-plaid shirt had more flour on it than a three-tier wedding cake, and chocolate was smudged across her cheek. At least in this she matched her kitchen.
An explosion of some sort of white goo was dripping off the counter onto the floor. Jerkface approached, sniffing the substance before deciding it was not up to his standards of consumption.
Lauren handed Hayley a small pastry ball, which she popped into her mouth without asking any further questions. “God, yes.” Hayley closed her eyes to savour the taste. “What’s it filled with?”
“Crème patisserie flavoured with salted-caramel liqueur. I got the idea from those knocked-up Santas we had.”
Still chewing, Hayley nodded her approval. If that wasn’t enough of a thumbs-up, the noises she was making would’ve been a good indication.
For the past week Lauren had been experimenting with various recipes in preparation for the contest coming up this weekend. The closer they got to the event, the more elaborate Lauren’s concoctions became. They knew the categories ahead of time, but there was always a catch.
Hayley plopped herself down on a stool on the other side of the breakfast bar, still chewing. “So why so much prep? Haven’t you been baking your whole life?”
“The trick is to prepare a couple of different selections in each category. Saturday morning we’re doing pastry, but that’s all we know. When we get there, they could say we’re not allowed to use flour or it has to include pomegranates or some equally absurd ingredient. The more prepared I am, the better I’ll do.”
“You’re going to do fine.”
Lauren looked around at the chaos in her kitchen. “Everyone else in the building is convinced of the same thing.”
“So come Saturday, show ’em who’s boss.” Hayley hopped off the stool and leaned over to give Lauren a peck on the nose, dusting off the small amount of flour on it first. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Actually, could you pop over to Kensington and grab me a few sticks of vanilla?”
“Wow. Going fancy.”
“There’s no comparison in flavour. If you can’t find the beans, then I’ll take the paste. It’s cheaper anyway.”
“How much are we talking?”
“Silk Road usually has them at sixteen bucks for a bag of three.”
“Holy shit, Lauren. That’s insane. How much paste do you get out of one bean?”
“You asked me what I needed. I don’t need the commentary.” Lauren stuck her tongue out.
“Actually, I think what you need more than ridiculously expensive ingredients is a break.” Hayley nudged Lauren over to her room. �
�Go get decent—you look like you fell in a vat of batter—and I’ll treat you to lunch. I happen to know a good place.”
* * *
“Kalini showed me this place. It’s kind of lucky we’re so close. And Theo said you never eat here.” Hayley stopped at Grnds and pulled the door open for Lauren.
At ten fifteen in the morning, the place was still pretty busy. The four out of five tables were full, and only one spot was left at the window bar. Lauren baulked. She never ate here for a reason. As long as Hipster Dan was the owner, she refused. But the look of earnestness on Hayley’s face pushed her forward. Maybe he wasn’t working.
However, the second they entered, she heard a gloating baritone say, “Why, Lauren Hames. I thought you’d never grace us with your lovely self.” Dan scratched his beard in contemplation. “In fact, I think the exact phrase was ‘over my dead body.’ You look pretty lively to me.” He nudged the woman in an apron next to him. “Doesn’t she look lively to you?” The woman rolled her eyes and moved away to help the next customer.
Lauren inwardly cringed. She would give almost anything to extract herself from this inevitable confrontation.
“I see you’ve brought one of your line cooks. Come to show her how real food is made?”
Hayley leaned over toward the counter. “So far I haven’t had anything here that isn’t dwarfed by what I make down the street.” She cringed, as if in apology for suggesting this place.
“Come to poach some ideas for Bake or Die?” Dan asked in his most arrogant tone. “I noticed you’d thrown your name into the hat this year.”
Hayley tugged at Lauren’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go to Abe’s place.”
* * *
Ensconced in one of two overstuffed chairs next to the fire, each with a latte and sandwich, Hayley felt she’d at least gotten Lauren to relax, though going to Grnds had been a fiasco.
“I’m sorry about that. I had no idea you had history there. Theo just said you never ate there, but he never said why.”
Lauren took the last bite of her Swiss-and-avocado croissant, scrubbing her fingers of crumbs over the plate. “I’m not sure Theo was working at the diner then. Ramiro knows the whole sordid story, knows why I hate him so much.”
Hayley propped her face up on her hands, always eager for a little workplace gossip. “You had me at sordid.”
Lauren leaned back with her chai latte, sinking into the cushy chair. “A few years back, Hipster Dan—that’s what I call him—won Bake or Die. He used the money to open Grnds. It’s the dream, right? Most of the bakers are hoping for exactly that.” Lauren took a sip of her latte. “This isn’t the first time I’ve entered Bake or Die. The one and only time I did was the same year as Hipster Dan. We both made it to the finals, but he was the ultimate winner. The thing is, he used one of my recipes to win. Down to the entire design, it was my idea.”
“What an asshole. Couldn’t you have said something?”
Abe came over to clear their plates. “Do you two need anything else?”
Both Lauren and Hayley shook their heads. “No, thanks. The croissant was amazing. Do you make them yourself?” Lauren asked.
Abe smiled. “My wife makes them. I could probably eat a whole batch in one sitting.”
“I don’t doubt that.” Hayley passed him her plate.
After Abe had left Hayley asked, “So how did Hipster Dan get your recipe?”
“He used to work as a line cook at Greta’s. I’d hired him a few months before the contest and was the reason he found out about Bake or Die. I had no idea he was even interested in entering, so I’d shared some ideas with him. I keep a book with notes and sketches. The morning of the last round, I noticed that the page with the cake I’d planned to do had been ripped out of the book. I decided, for whatever reason, it was a bad omen and to make my second choice. When Dan placed his final cake on the counter, I knew exactly what had happened. But I couldn’t prove what he had done. He had the proof.”
Hayley slumped back. “Jesus. I want to punch him in his fucking hairy face. And he’s entered in the contest this year?”
“Yep,” said Lauren. “He enters every year, although the only time he’s won was that first one.”
“With your idea. What happened after?” asked Hayley.
“I didn’t even get the satisfaction of firing him. He never showed up to work again, not even to collect his last paycheque. A year later, Grnds opened down the street, and he came in with flyers to pass out to all our customers.”
“The nerve.” Hayley wished at that moment she could go back in time and stop herself from ever enjoying anything that man had ever made. She’d have to tell Kalini and Jo. Maybe they could pass on the info, and he’d lose a little business. It was the only consolation—that and Lauren kicking his ass this year in the contest.
Hayley reached across and took Lauren’s hand. “You know you’re a million times better than that douchebag, right? You can beat him because you’ve had a few more years to hone your skills and he doesn’t have access to your mind anymore.”
Lauren smiled. “I’m not worried about Hipster Dan. It’s everyone else I’m up against.”
Hayley stood. “Well, let’s go get a leg up on the competition. You said you wanted to get vanilla beans?” She offered her hand to Lauren. “I think there’s a food market with our name on it.”
* * *
They entered Kensington Market from Dundas and followed Kensington Avenue past the vintage-clothing shops to Baldwin, where the heart of the food shops lay. Any special type of food you wanted, Kensington had it. The market featured cheese shops you would enter optimistic and leave poor, with a bag full of cheese that could easily cost a hundred dollars a pound. They even offered a Bitto Storico, aged ten years, which would set you back forty dollars for three hundred grams. Lauren stayed away from those places because they were dangerous. If you weren’t careful you could spend an entire paycheque just on sample sizes. The market had coffee-bean, nut, and produce shops, but Lauren was after the spice shops today.
The World of Spices was one of Lauren’s favourites. Its thin aisles were packed high with some of the hardest-to-find spices. They ranged from random, like cucumber powder, to the more trendy, like charcoal. Lauren was looking for vanilla beans and Aleppo chile flakes. The Aleppo flakes were for the game pie she had in mind for the second challenge. They were milder than most chiles but had a sweet yet sharp taste and would add a unique kick to her variation on a spicy cheese bread.
They weaved in and around aisles, with Lauren grabbing items as they went. They chatted about recipes and which were a favourite to make. Lauren tended to bake sweet things, while Hayley preferred savoury recipes.
“All this food prep is making me hungry. Can I share something with you?”
Hayley turned, her azure eyes bright, a hint of a smile at the corners of her lips. “Anything.”
Lauren took Hayley’s hand and led her out of the spice store and into the crowds. “Come with me.”
She pulled Hayley past bakeries and cafes, tattoo shops and pubs to a little stairwell leading to a basement with the most amazing smells wafting from it. Several people were crowding the doorway, waiting to enter.
“These only show up around Christmas for a few weeks, and then they’re gone.” A group of well-bundled people stepped out of the shop carrying what looked like wontons but were tiny triangular, pinched Tourtieres. “Every year the recipes are new, but even if that weren’t true, they’re worth lining up for.”
They joined the queue, huddling into the side of the building to avoid the wind. They were still holding hands, and Hayley couldn’t help but feel warmed by that fact. It had been a great day, and they hadn’t done much of anything except hang out together. “Happy endings always involve food,” she said.
Lauren laughed. “Happy endings are for Disney movies and rub-and-tug parlours.”
Hayley held her hand to her heart. “Oh my God, don’t you believe in happy endings?”
“Happy endings are for fairy tales. I mean, they’re nice for movies, but once the credits roll, life goes on, and life rarely has happy endings.”
“I don’t know about that,” Hayley said. “I think the world is full of happy endings. You just have to know where to look.” By now they’d made it to the front of the line, and each placed her order. Hayley moved to the side and let the next people go.
“Says the woman from the picturesque small town whose parents are still together.” Off the look of mild horror on Hayley’s face, Lauren added, “I’m sorry that sounded so cynical, but honestly, if my mom hadn’t died, I don’t think my parents would still be together. They were so dissimilar.” Lauren shrugged. “Nothing lasts forever.”
“You’re assuming a happy ending has to be about happily ever after, but what if it’s just a happy ending to the chapter? Yes, I grew up in a small town, and so my expectations are different, but if you look hard enough, you can see little happy endings here. They’re small gestures, like sharing a mug on a river of ice under the expressway, or watching for white squirrels in the park, a Good Samaritan stopping to help a woman picking up her spilled cans.”
“Those aren’t happy endings. They’re nice gestures. And I wouldn’t live in the city if I didn’t love it for all its good and its bad.”
Hayley took a bite of her Tourtieres, closing her eyes as she did. “Good Lord, that’s delicious.”
“Which one did you get?”
“The Christmas one, but it has some sort of roasted-chestnut flavouring that really pulls the whole thing together. Want to taste?” Hayley offered the small pie, and Lauren leaned in and took a bite.
“It’s delicious. That one must be new.”
“What about us? You don’t think we’ll get a happy ending?”
The question threw Lauren. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. This was her first time in a relationship with a woman, if they were even in one. They hadn’t discussed that possibility yet. She hadn’t thought about where she wanted it to go. She knew only that Hayley made her want to believe in happy endings.