by A. E. Radley
“Well, thanks for thinking of me instead of going to Abbott’s,” Serenity said.
“Eh, I’m on foot and the Sugar Plum Bakery is closer,” Olivia said with a shrug, then after a beat, she cracked a smile to show Serenity she was joking. Then she turned her attention back to the display case and said, “Everything looks incredible. I’m sure it tastes great, too – you were always good in the kitchen.”
“How do you know if I’m good in the kitchen?” Serenity asked, going behind the counter and resting her arms on top of the display case.
“In tenth grade French class, you brought in those incredible Madeleine cookies,” Olivia said. “They were so moist and buttery, I must have eaten half a dozen of them.”
Serenity laughed and said, “I only made them to distract Mrs. Thomas from the fact that I couldn’t conjugate my French verbs. I can’t believe you remembered that.”
“Bien sûr,” Olivia said with a grin. Of course.
Olivia’s eyes lingered on her for a moment and then Serenity broke the gaze, asking, “So, umm, do you know what kind of dessert your mom wants?”
“She left it up to me,” Olivia said.
“Well, I’ve got a seasonal chocolate torte that’s very popular,” she said. “Or a Bundt cake might be nice…”
She trailed off because Olivia wasn’t paying attention anymore. She’d moved away from the display case and was coming around the end of the counter, glancing through the open door to the kitchen. She inhaled deeply and said, “Wow. I’ll have whatever’s filling the shop with that incredible smell.”
Serenity laughed and said, “Actually, that’s just the morning’s batch of donuts. Shoot – that reminds me, I haven’t started brewing the coffee yet. People like to grab both here on their way to work.”
“I might have to do the same, minus the work part,” Olivia said. Then she caught sight of the tornado of paperwork on the prep counter and said, “Sheesh, what happened there?”
Serenity came to the doorway to look at what Olivia was seeing, then said, “Oh, I was just trying to get organized. It’s not my forte.”
“That’s an understatement,” Olivia said. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were on your own.”
“Nope,” Serenity said with a sigh. She squeezed past Olivia, brushing against her coat, and went into the prep room to retrieve the coffee supplies. It was still early, but if she didn’t get a pot brewing right now, it wouldn’t be ready in time for the morning regulars who began to show up around seven-thirty.
Olivia followed her into the prep room, picking up one of the orders on the counter, and asked, “Do you mind if I take a crack at it?”
“Hmm?” Serenity asked, looking up. “No, knock yourself out.”
“Organization’s kind of my thing,” Olivia said as she started shuffling through papers. “You want them arranged by the date they need to be completed?”
“Yeah - that’s the idea, anyway,” Serenity said. “Much easier said than done with so much other work to do around here.”
“Mm,” Olivia said, hardly answering as she became absorbed in the task. Serenity paused in the doorway, smiling at how incredibly focused Olivia was. That was something she remembered from high school – the way Olivia completely immersed herself in whatever task was at hand. That was lucky for Serenity, or else she probably would have gotten caught staring.
She went back to the front of the shop and started brewing a pot of coffee, then she pushed a big rack of donuts from the kitchen out to the display case. By the time she was finished transferring the donuts, the sun was coming up and cars were beginning to fill the street outside. People started popping in for their morning coffee and donuts, the jingling of the doorbell becoming nearly constant for the next hour as Serenity’s most faithful customers fueled up for their days.
It was almost nine by the time the rush was over and Serenity leaned against the counter, taking a deep breath.
Then she remembered Olivia in the back room and wondered if she was still there or if she’d snuck out when Serenity was busy. She peeked through the door and found her still hard at work, so she filled a cup with coffee and pulled a chocolate long john out of the display case, taking them both back to the kitchen and setting them down on the counter beside Olivia.
“I think I’m done,” Olivia said, tapping the orders on the counter and then handing the neat stack to Serenity. “But if you want a real system, you should buy a folio divider at the very least, or maybe get an electronic ordering system.”
Serenity laughed. “Abbott’s is doing everything it can to put me out of business. Now’s not a good time for investing in software. But this is a big help – thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Olivia said. She picked up the coffee cup and took a sip, then said, “I saw the Help Wanted sign in your window. If you need help holding down the fort, I am literally doing nothing with my life right now.”
Serenity’s heart climbed into her throat. The thought of working beside Olivia Winters made her feel nervous and tongue-tied, and she hadn’t even considered the possibility despite the free labor Liv had spent the morning giving her. She frowned and asked, “Doesn’t that violate the doctor’s orders?”
Olivia had told her in vague terms during the Christmas party that she’d overworked herself in Westbrook to the point of exhaustion, and that was why she was staying with her parents through the holiday season. But Olivia shook her head and said, “The cabin fever is real. I have to get out of that house, so if you need help, the offer stands.”
“Well… yeah,” Serenity said, her tongue feeling fat in her mouth. “That would be great.”
Olivia extended her hand and Serenity took it, this handshake feeling a little more intimate than their last in a crowded room full of holiday revelers. Her heart was beating fast and her eyes kept falling to the little dimple in Olivia’s lower lip. Then Olivia smiled and said, “You’ve got yourself some holiday help, then.”
“Thank you,” Serenity said.
She fumbled her way awkwardly through a conversation about pay (Serenity couldn’t offer much and Olivia didn’t seem to care about her hourly rate) and shifts (with the exception of a few familial holiday obligations, Olivia’s schedule was wide open). They went back to the front of the shop and Serenity took down her Help Wanted sign – that was easy.
Finally, she remembered the reason for Olivia’s visit.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, moving over to the display case. “I think you should take your mother one of my Dutch apple pies for dessert. She loves them.”
DECEMBER 5
“You’re sure you don’t mind helping out?” Serenity asked.
Olivia was trailing behind her and they both had their arms full with bakery boxes.
“I said I wanted to help,” she reminded her. “Watch the stoop.”
Serenity looked down and narrowly avoided tripping over a low stone stoop at the service entrance to the large house. She stepped over it, balancing her load of cannoli, baklava and tea biscuits. “Thanks.”
It was about five o’clock and Serenity had been baking and preparing for this event since two in the morning. There was more coffee than blood pumping through her veins by now and Olivia had spent the day at the front of the shop, helping customers while Serenity frantically worked to fill this catered order for Mr. and Mrs. Haskell’s annual holiday dinner. When it was all boxed up, Serenity tried to send Olivia home, but she’d insisted on accompanying her.
“I’m here for whatever you need,” Olivia reminded her, and not for the first time, Serenity wondered why.
Olivia was in town recovering from overworking herself and she was clearly not used to the idea of leisure time, but why the Sugar Plum Bakery? Why Serenity?
“Is this the dessert?” a man in a crisp white chef’s coat asked as they walked into the large kitchen. “Finally!”
Serenity blushed and said, “I’m sorry – I’m a little short on help this season.”
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“Just put it over there,” he said, pointing to a marble-topped island the size of Serenity’s prep room. It was already spread with all sorts of elegant-looking hors d’oeuvres, bite-sized quiches and individual servings of shrimp cocktail. Three waiters in black suits were busy loading silver trays with the appetizers and Serenity could hear the dinner party underway beyond the kitchen door. There were about two dozen guests, their voices mixing together in a low, indecipherable hum. Serenity nudged a tray of brie-stuffed pastries out of the way and set down her bakery boxes, then took Olivia’s off her hands.
“Where’s Christina?” she asked the chef. Serenity had been providing the desserts for the Haskells’ party for the past three years and they’d always used the same chef before.
“She took a job in Lisbon,” the man said dismissively. “Excuse me, I need to check on the drink table.”
He walked briskly out of the kitchen and a couple of the waiters followed him, balancing silver appetizer platters in their hands. Serenity glanced at Olivia, who rolled her eyes and asked, “What’s up his butt?”
Serenity laughed, shaking her head and walking over to a stack of empty platters on the counter. She took a couple, then noticed a plastic grocery bag full of toothpicks, napkins and other dinner party staples. She showed it to Olivia. Abbott’s Grocery was printed across the side in four-inch letters.
“Looks like the lifestyles of the rich and famous now include undercutting the caterers with grocery store goods,” she whispered.
“You think Christina got laid off?”
“Probably,” Serenity said. “Who can afford to compete with convenience and everyday low prices?”
She sighed, then set the bag down and put on a smile. There was no sense in getting upset about things she couldn’t control, and right now all that mattered was arranging her desserts on these platters in a way that would wow the Haskells and remind them why they loved the Sugar Plum Bakery.
“Come on, let’s get this stuff plated,” she said, handing a platter to Olivia.
They filled five of them with bite-sized versions of Mrs. Haskell’s favorite desserts. Once they were laid out on the island for the waiters to bring out during the dessert course, Serenity had nothing to do but wait around for her chance to collect payment and make sure that everything was to her clients’ liking.
“You can go if you want,” she told Olivia. “This part of the night can get pretty boring.”
“I’ve got nothing better to do,” Olivia said. “My parents are probably just sitting at home, watching their third consecutive run of A Christmas Story.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t like A Christmas Story,” Serenity said, picking up a mini quiche. “It’s a classic.”
“Do all classic things have to be good?” Olivia challenged. When Serenity popped the quiche into her mouth, she added, “And are you allowed to eat the appetizers?”
“Live a little,” Serenity said, narrowing her eyes at Olivia. It came across a bit more seductive than she’d planned, but she had no choice but to double down now. She picked up another mini quiche and crossed the large kitchen to where Liv was leaning against the countertop. “Here.”
Olivia held out her hand and Serenity placed the quiche in her palm. She caught a faint smell of citrus from Liv’s hair and for just a second, she indulged the fantasy of leaning forward to kiss her… an idea she’d imagined many times in high school and never allowed herself to truly entertain.
Then she stepped away and as Olivia ate the quiche, Serenity said, “I think most classics are good. That’s why they’re classic.”
“Well, I didn’t say I don’t like the movie,” Olivia said. “Just that I’d rather spend the night having a new experience here than staying home and watching something I’ve seen a million times.”
“You sound like my ex,” Serenity said, then immediately felt guilty for saying it. It seemed wrong for some reason to talk about her ex-girlfriend to Liv, so she rushed to add, “I mean, she got bored easily and that’s not a good quality for sustaining long-term relationships.”
“Sounds like she hurt you,” Olivia said, studying Serenity.
“We both hurt each other,” Serenity said. “No relationship succeeds or fails because of only one person’s actions.”
Olivia picked up a cannoli with a broken shell. A couple of them hadn’t survived the trip from the bakery so they’d set them aside. She popped it into her mouth, a little bit of cream sticking at the corner of her lips, and Serenity had a hard time tearing her eyes away. Liv’s tongue snaked out and licked away the cream, and if she wasn’t so focused on her racing heart, Serenity would have sworn Liv was giving her a seductive, challenging look as she did it.
Serenity breathed deeply, then turned away as the new, grumpy chef came back into the kitchen and immediately zeroed in on the quiche tray.
“Have you been eating my hors d’oeuvres?” he snapped. “That’s so unprofessional!”
He went over to the tray, rearranging it to fill the gaps, and Serenity looked bashfully at Olivia.
DECEMBER 8
Olivia came to the bakery to help Serenity every day that week.
Most mornings, she’d come in with a snarky smile and tell Serenity what mind-numbing thing she’d be doing if she had stayed home with her parents all day. Sometimes, she’d talk about what she would be doing if she was still in Westbrook – depositions, court appearances, or one of the many extracurriculars she’d gotten involved with, from the library’s Board of Trustees to the Chamber of Commerce. Serenity felt slightly dizzy just listening to Olivia’s long list of responsibilities and she wasn’t surprised that she’d reached a breaking point.
Liv found her stride quickly in the bakery, though, and it wasn’t long before she began letting her hair down – metaphorically, of course, as her long, silky locks were trapped in a hairnet every time she stepped foot in the kitchen. Even so, she managed to be strikingly attractive.
Serenity’s own dusty blonde hair was frizzy more often than not, poking out from the holes of her hairnet, and she was perpetually covered in flour. Olivia was extremely helpful, taking charge of the front counter so that Serenity could focus on her baking, but there was something to be said about the completely platonic nature of her relationship with Ashley. It had certainly been easier to keep her eyes on the prep surface when she was around.
Serenity was absorbed in trimming the pieces of her gingerbread castle for the display window one afternoon when Olivia poked her head into the kitchen and said, “Phone call for you. It’s the mayor.”
“Oh, thanks,” Serenity said, wiping an errant strand of hair from her forehead with the back of her hand. “I’ll be there in just a second.”
Olivia disappeared through the doorway and Serenity heard the bell ring as a customer came in. She laid down her work and pulled off the hairnet, taking an extra second to smooth her hair as best she could. Then she went to the front of the shop and said hello to Mrs. Jenkins, there to pick up a birthday cake for her youngest boy, before grabbing the phone on the wall behind the counter.
“Sugar Plum Bakery, this is Serenity,” she said cheerily.
“Serenity, I’m glad I caught you,” Mayor Robinson said. He sounded pleasant as always, but Serenity had a sour feeling in her stomach – he was a frequent customer, but he never called. The mayor’s office was just two blocks away and he took great pride in making personal visits around town.
“What can I do for you, Mayor?” she asked. It was the second week in December and there was only one thing she could think of that he needed from her. She glanced out the window toward Abbott’s Grocery and hoped this wasn’t bad news.
“The Angel Valley holiday gala is coming up at the end of the week,” he said, and she nodded along.
She’d been providing the desserts for the gala every year since the Sugar Plum opened its doors. Mayor Robinson always came into the shop in person to place the order, then stayed to enjoy a cruller and a cup of c
offee - his standing order.
“I’ve got you in my books already,” Serenity said. “Will you be coming by to finalize your order?”
“Actually,” he said, and her heart immediately dropped into her stomach. She sank against the wall and Olivia glanced over at her with concern. “As you know, Abbott’s has a fine bakery department-”
“I’m aware,” Serenity said. “They poached my assistant. Please tell me you’re not going to get your desserts from them this year.”
“No,” the mayor said. “Well, not entirely. I just think it wouldn’t be very welcoming to play favorites at a town-sponsored event. I want Abbott’s to have a long and prosperous presence in Angel Valley – and I want the same for you. That’s why I’ve decided that the fairest thing to do will be to split the order. I’d like you to supply your famous brownies and blondies, and I’ve already asked Abbott’s to bring the cupcakes.”
It felt like a stake being driven through her heart. Yes, they were just cupcakes, but where would it end?
Mrs. Jenkins had long since walked out the door with her son’s birthday cake and Serenity was alone with Olivia, so she allowed herself to drop her head, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. She said into the receiver, “Okay. The usual order of eight dozen?”
“Yes, split evenly between brownies and blondies,” the mayor said. “I’ll see you at the gala this weekend?”
“Be there with bells on,” Serenity said, although she’d never felt less like celebrating.
The mayor hung up first, then Olivia asked, “What’s wrong?”
Serenity grumbled, “The mayor just put another nail in my coffin.”
She went around the end of the counter and back into the kitchen, picking up a few pieces of hardened gingerbread and a little cup filled with royal icing. When she brought them back to the front of the shop, Olivia asked, “What do you mean?”
Serenity knelt down in front of the window, removing her temporary pieces of cardboard to access her partially assembled display. She tried very hard not to let her eyes stray to the looming presence of Abbott’s down the street. “He’s making his loyalties known, giving part of the gala order to the grocery store.”