by C. J. Birch
“Ugh.” Lauren leaned her head back. “You don’t get it. If I don’t get the money back, I could be fired. I need that job.”
Her dad patted her back. “I do get it. I do. And while I think it would be horrible to get fired, it might not be such a bad thing. Life can get stagnant.”
Lauren gave him a withering look. He was one to talk. “Better stagnant than unemployed.”
“Do you remember when you stopped believing in Santa?”
Lauren leaned back, sceptical this had anything to do with what they were talking about. “Honestly, I don’t really remember ever believing in Santa.” That probably had a lot to do with her mom. She vaguely remembered her father trying to explain that if he used magic, Santa could deliver toys to every child in the world, and she had responded that magic didn’t exist because she couldn’t see it. Mostly she remembered the fight between her parents that night. She’d snuck out of her room and crept toward the living room, sitting behind their giant money tree to listen unobserved. Max had blamed Susan for putting, as he said, “that crap in her head.” While he was busy trying to create a world of wonder, her mother had been right behind dumping cold water on her dreams. At the time Lauren truly believed her mother had had her best interests in mind.
“Too young. Sometimes you just have to believe.”
“Believe in what?”
Max shrugged his sagging shoulders. “In a world that wants better for you. If Hayley is willing to risk jail time to get you to dive into the deep end, then that’s someone I want in your life.”
He didn’t say anything more. Instead he pulled her in for a hug. “Thanks for coming to see me. I’m really glad you’re here. I’m getting tired of Inspector Lynley, and Havers gets to me after a while.”
Lauren picked up the book and turned it over to read the back. “British Inspector novels. I don’t even know how you can like these.” She settled in against her dad to listen to him, yet again, explain why they were the best of the best. It was comforting to hear the same things over and over. She was glad she’d come. Even if her mind wasn’t made up, she wasn’t so upset anymore.
* * *
Hayley was awake. She’d been awake for the past five hours staring at the ceiling and waiting for Lauren to come home. It was the first night since her birthday that she’d slept in her own bed, and it felt big and cold and lonely. She’d even left the door open in case Jerkface decided to hop up and join her. He hadn’t, which was just as well. She deserved all the loneliness in the world.
Hayley had played it over in her head a billion times. The thought process, the inner argument, all the back-and-forth as she stood there holding the deposit bag in her hand. Granted, it had been reckless, and maybe even a little stupid, but she’d been sure Lauren would win. So sure. The only thing that made her uncertain now was the turmoil she’d seen in Lauren. Hayley hadn’t seriously thought she’d get caught before the contest was over, thereby solving the problem before it became a problem.
She’d worked it all out. She’d wait until the flush of victory coloured Lauren’s cheeks and let her know how she’d afforded her entry. What was a thousand dollars out of a hundred grand? That was like one pebble on a beach full of them. Lauren would’ve been mad for about a second until she remembered that she’d won the most cutthroat baking contest in the city, possibly the country. Hayley now realized that’s what she’d been counting on. She’d never even let herself think about what would happen if Lauren lost. Because if she did, then it would just be stealing. Hayley would pay it back though. Of course she would. It wasn’t her money. It’s not like she’d taken the money for herself.
She flipped over onto her side, and that’s when she noticed Jerkface staring at her from the edge of the bed. She hadn’t even felt him jump up. The light from outside was enough to illuminate his eyes, the vertical pupils contracting to sharp slits. Judgment. But instead of swatting at her like he usually did, he curled up into a fat, furry ball and laid his head on his paws, and went to sleep.
Perhaps it was better to be a cat. They did shitty things all day long and had no problem curling up and sleeping at the end of the day, their conscience clean. Hayley didn’t have that luxury. If Lauren got fired over this, she’d never forgive herself.
At half past six she heard the front door snick closed. Hayley sat up, stirring Jerkface, who jumped off the bed.
“Oh, hey, cat,” Lauren whispered.
Hayley crawled out of bed. She was still dressed in the same clothes from yesterday, unable to even pretend she’d be getting some sleep.
Lauren looked rumpled, but not too bad for having spent the night out.
“Where’d you sleep?” Hayley asked.
“Didn’t do much of that.”
Hayley nodded. She hadn’t rehearsed what she wanted to say word for word, but she’d come up with a rough outline. Now, her mind was blank. For some reason, when she’d thought to take the money for Lauren, it hadn’t seemed that serious. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
Lauren shrugged off her coat and hung it on the hook near the door. Her shoulders hunched, she didn’t turn around to face Hayley as she said, “You’re fired.”
“I figured that much. What happened with you?”
“Well, Aaron still doesn’t have the money, does he?”
Hayley’s heart seized. She turned Lauren around. “Did he fire you? He can’t fire you. I was the one who took the money. You didn’t know anything about it.”
“You know that. And I know that, but I’m in charge of everyone. I left you alone with the money, and this is what happened.”
Hayley felt like she was back home on Brewer’s Hill trying to race up after an ice storm. Every few feet she’d slide back down to the bottom, never reaching the top. “That’s not fair. You know I didn’t steal the money for me—”
“Don’t say you did this for me, because I was just fine. I don’t need this stress. I didn’t need to compete.”
Hayley nodded defeat. She wouldn’t get anywhere. Lauren had made up her mind, and she’d never see it Hayley’s way.
“I’m going to go take a shower. I might not have gotten much sleep, but at least I can be clean for today’s bake.”
At the click of the bathroom door, Hayley ripped her jacket off the hook and shrugged it on as she scrambled out of the apartment. She needed to be out in the fresh air. She ran down the fire escape and bounded into Trinity across the street.
The park was quiet and misty. A slight pink tinged the morning sky, chasing away the midnight blue enveloping the west. Hayley crunched through the thick snow. The city hadn’t yet plowed the park paths. After a storm like that, they wouldn’t get to it for a while, too busy clearing the major streets.
Since she was a little girl, Hayley had dreamed about leaving Casper Falls. Life as an adult would be on her own terms. She wouldn’t have to rely on her parents for a job or be compared to Hannah—the whole town knew she was perfect. All Hayley had ever wanted was something that was hers, a life she could be proud of. This past month she thought she’d discovered it at Greta’s. She’d never expected to find something that she loved doing so much and something she was so good at.
She pulled out the business card Ramiro had given her yesterday. He was never going to give her a reference now. She’d stolen money from the till. Would Aaron charge her? Could she go to jail? “Fuck.” Hayley rounded the corner before the hill that led down to the dog park. Two owners were out early running their dogs around in circles, the steam from their breath floating like clouds in front of their mouths. She walked by, unable to even enjoy the dogs’ happy barks.
Then there was Lauren. Hayley had never expected to find love in the city. She’d been so focused on finding a place to live and getting a job that it was a surprise when it happened.
And now she’d lost it all, with one stupid decision. Hayley kicked at a snowbank and plopped down on an icy bench. Only one question was floating around in her head. What am
I going to do now?
* * *
Lauren sailed through the third round. Her water-crust pastry was something she’d made a million times so was easy to do on autopilot. Their directive had been to make a vegetarian game pie. Instead of using meat substitutes, which a lot of her fellow contestants would do, Lauren decided to stick to hearty vegetables. The main filling would be mushrooms, with a layer of portobellos acting as a meat layer. She’d thought of that first morning with Hayley when she’d deep-fried the poached eggs and decided to add a topper of fried poached eggs.
As mad as she was at Hayley, she couldn’t keep her off her mind. It had been an incredibly dumb thing to do, although the more she distanced herself from it, the more she could see it for what it was. Hayley had been trying in her own way to help Lauren get out of her nice, safe life.
Lauren had never planned to compete again. If she lost, it would be another blow to her ego she didn’t need, but to lose to Dan would be the ultimate insult. Possibly making it into the final round for a second time spoke a lot about her talent, which she was wasting if she could hold her own with the best bakers in the city. Regardless of the outcome, it was time to start working toward a different goal. Time to get her life in order.
Her phone buzzed as they broadcast the bakers who would be moving onto the final round. It was Aaron. She answered just as they called her name, announcing she’d be one of five making it to the finals.
.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Hayley woke to the smell of gingerbread. She checked her phone—half past six in the morning. Her mom was a morning person. She always said you could get more done before nine if you were up at five. Hayley couldn’t fault her logic, but she’d rather be well rested to do all her stuff.
She slunk out of bed and grabbed her thermal socks from the floor, where she’d dropped them the night before. Her parents’ place was all hardwood floors, and in the winter months your feet were in danger of falling off if you didn’t cover them. She pulled her warmest hoodie over her head as she stumbled downstairs.
The only light on was in the kitchen, where her mom had several trays of gingerbread slabs laid out to cool. When she noticed Hayley, she checked the time on the microwave but didn’t say anything, too aware of what her daughter was like before coffee.
The kitchen was decorated in warm yellows and soft oranges, with pictures of food interspersed with photos of the family. Stacks of cookbooks were organized along the counter, most of them from the eighties or seventies, with titles like Only Love Beats Butter, Let’s Play Hide the Sausage, and The Magic of Microwave. Hayley’s favourite was An Unexpected Cookbook, a Hobbit-themed culinary experience. And her parents wondered where she inherited her geek from.
Hayley beelined for the coffee, searching for the Grumpy mug. The only time she managed to snag it was when her father was still asleep or too lazy to grab it from the dishwasher. It was the largest mug they owned. When Hannah was there—and not pregnant—they’d all fight over it. She filled it to the top and sat down on a stool next to the island, watching her mom cut the gingerbread into walls for the house she’d make when it cooled and hardened.
“You’re up early,” Sara said.
“I guess I’m still used to getting up to open at five. Don’t miss the hours, that’s for sure.” Hayley had finally told her parents about the company going bankrupt before she even got a chance to work there.
“I don’t know why you didn’t come home as soon as it happened. It would’ve been easier on you to look for a new job without worrying about paying for rent.” Her mom meant well, but she was infuriating. Everyone else got to live the life they wanted without question. Why couldn’t she?
Hayley grabbed a piece of discarded gingerbread and tossed it into her mouth. “I’m twenty-eight years old. I don’t want to live at home and work for my parents. You get that, right?” The gingerbread complemented her coffee perfectly. “I sucked at being a manager anyway. I like doing my own thing.” She’d even started looking at applying to some culinary schools since she’d been home.
“We miss you. That’s all.”
Hayley snagged another piece of gingerbread and dipped it in her coffee. “I know of an easy solution to that. Hannah came to visit. Maybe if you saw how I live in the city, you wouldn’t worry so much.”
“Honey, I’m going to worry no matter where you live.”
Hayley turned her stool back and forth. She’d waited until Lauren had left for the next round of the competition and packed up her stuff and left.
“Hannah mentioned you’d moved from your first place.”
“Yes, but it’s rat and cockroach-free. And only temporary. I’ll find a new place soon.”
“And how will you do that without a job?”
“I see why I missed you guys. Where else would I get world-class nagging like this?”
Her mom smiled as she trashed the gingerbread scraps. “I nag because I love.”
“I will find a job, and everything will work out. Just have a little patience.”
“I’m not sure where you got your optimism, but it wasn’t from this family. Now, do you want to help me build a gingerbread house?”
Hayley sipped her coffee from her perch and nodded.
“It used to be our tradition, you know. Every year a week before Christmas you’d start pestering me about the gingerbread house.”
Hayley set her coffee down on the island and picked up a bag of gumdrops. “It was fun to see how crazy you’d let me go with the decorating.” She wondered if Lauren had ever made a gingerbread house. If she had, it probably looked perfect. Hayley was never very good with perfect. She liked things a little off-kilter.
“Can we stage it like a zombie apocalypse?”
“How about this? You get two zombies as long as we keep Santa traditional.”
Hayley grinned and began arranging the candy to make her zombies. “Deal. It can be the very beginning, before too many people have been turned.”
Her mom laughed and pulled out the candy canes and passed them to Hayley.
* * *
Lauren stood underneath the metal arch of Trinity Bellwoods, across the street from Greta’s, staring at the Open sign. Inside she could see Luna and Vic taking orders, clearing tables. For fourteen years it had been part of her life, almost her entire life, and now she’d have to move on. She hadn’t told anyone yet that Aaron had fired her. She didn’t have any energy left for that. Maybe tomorrow? Or maybe she’d leave that up to Aaron. After all, she wasn’t in charge anymore.
She leaned against the pillar and let the cold seep through the wool of her pea-coat. In less than an hour, the last round of the contest would start, but she was finding it hard to motivate herself to go. What did it matter if she lost again? She trudged across the street and down the side alley to the rear fire escape.
She saw the envelope as soon as she opened the door. It was propped against her giant copy of the Cake Bible. Lauren turned toward the spare bedroom. From the front door she could see that the bed was made and all of Hayley’s stuff was gone. She picked up the envelope, expecting to find a good-bye letter, but the only things inside were ten one-hundred-dollar bills and a Post-it stuck to the top one that read, “Kick some ass.”
Lauren flopped onto the couch and began to cry. In that instant she realized she wasn’t upset about losing the job, or even losing the contest. It was losing Hayley that hurt the most. She hadn’t expected that. Was she angry Lauren had fired her? It was on Aaron’s orders. If it had been her decision alone, Lauren wouldn’t have. Sure, stealing money from the till had been a poor decision, but it would’ve been paid back in the end. She would’ve weighed it against other things, like the fact that Hayley was an amazing cook and a reliable employee.
Lauren scrunched up the Post-it and threw it in the direction of the garbage, hoisted herself off the couch, and ran out the door. If she called a Lyft, she’d make it in time for the last round. No way would she let Hayley’s
bad decision create one of her own. She’d made it to the final round, and she refused to let Hipster Dan one-up her again. She just hoped she had enough time to pick up chestnut paste. After each round, they gave you the directive for the next.
This final round was cakes, and you had to make yours as Christmas as fuck. Lauren had to scrap her original idea and come up with something new. It was a gamble because she’d never made it before, had no idea if the flavours would taste good together, or if she’d even be able to finish in time.
* * *
Lauren hadn’t allowed herself to glance over at Dan’s station the entire round. She was laser-focused on her own cake, which still needed several additions in order to be complete.
“Fifteen minutes left,” one of the judges called.
“Shit, fuck, shit,” a gruff voice mumbled.
Lauren glanced over at Dan, who had his hand down what was probably meant to be a chimney but looked more like abstract art, and grinned. His face was streaming with sweat, and from what she could see he was nowhere near done.
With renewed confidence, Lauren turned her board around and began piping along the top of her cake. She’d created a giant Christmas ball for the tree. One side looked like glass, and the other was an ornate winter scene she’d carved out of the cake and enhanced with gold leaf and royal icing. The result was pretty impressive. Along the bottom of the cake were meant to be smaller ornaments that, when cracked with a knife, would ooze out a candy-cane ice cream. She still had to assemble those but was making sure the ice cream was as set as possible.
The cake would look good, but she had no idea if it tasted good. She’d gone with Christmas flavours but added some chestnut paste to her buttercream in between each layer, to add that roasted-chestnut flavour. The top and bottom layer were a spice cake, and the smaller sponge cake was a ginger molasses.