Always the Baker, Never the Bride

by Sandra D. Bricker

  “12:30 a.m.,” she said out loud. “I can’t believe it’s after midnight.”

  “It can’t be,” he replied, looking at his watch, and then groaned. “Emma, I’m so sorry. I had no intention of staying this late.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not,” he said, pushing upward, then placing his stocking feet into his shoes. “You were half asleep when you left work at seven-thirty, and now I’m sitting here talking your ear off at twelve-thirty.”

  “Honestly, it’s fine,” she reassured him. “I enjoyed it.”

  “Really?” he asked with a sort of curious, vulnerable curve of a smile.

  “Really. I haven’t laughed this much in I don’t know when.”

  “I’m not sure I ever have,” he commented, then he sighed. “Definitely not since I lost Desi.”

  Emma stood up and began gathering Jackson’s belongings: his tie from the back of the sofa, his suit jacket from the dining room chair, his overcoat from the pewter hook near the front door.

  “I think it’s sweet the way you call her that,” she said. “Pardon?”

  “Desiree. How you call her Desi.”

  “Oh.” His smile was laced with equal measures of happy nostalgia and sour regret. “She hated it at first. But it always seemed to fit.”

  “I didn’t know her,” Emma remarked, “but it does seem to fit. It’s very sweet.”

  “Sweet,” he said with a sigh. “There’s something I don’t think I’ve ever been called.”

  Emma’s heart began to pound as she watched him slip into his jacket. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Oh, believe it,” he replied, sliding into his overcoat. “There’s nothing sweet about me, Emma Rae.”

  “You just look at yourself and the world around you through eyes of … disappointment,” she told him, straightening the folded collar of his coat. “So you can’t see what the rest of us see.”

  When she released the collar and pulled back her hand, Jackson’s eyes caught hold of hers in one of those invisible grips that were starting to become somewhat familiar to Emma. Once again, she tried, but she couldn’t look away from him, and so she just stood there, tied to him, the green of her eyes swimming around in the gold-flecked brown of his.

  “Thank you for the chotchke.”

  Jackson’s sudden smile beamed. “Chu chee. You’re welcome.”

  For a fragmented moment, she was convinced that a kiss was about to follow. Her pulse raced, her heart pounded, her palms began to perspire. And against her better judgment, when Jackson moved closer to her, she pursed her lips in preparation.

  “See you in the morning,” he said suddenly, breaking the spell by planting a platonic sort of peck on her forehead, stifled by a thick fringe of bangs. It made a sort of thud as he did it. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  “Okay.”

  “Thanks for everything,” he told her. “Even the tea?”

  “Well, not so much for the tea. But the cookies and conversation were first-rate. G’night.”

  She watched him head down the stairs and out into the bitter cold.

  “Good night, Jackson.”

  Emma closed and bolted the door, then slipped the chain into place. Instead of turning out the lights and heading straight to bed, she grabbed the chenille throw from the back of the sofa and wrapped it around her shoulders as she plunked down into her father’s easy chair and sighed. Outside the bay window, Jackson’s taillights flashed and then disappeared around the corner of her street.

  Emma folded her legs beneath her and stared at the last glowing embers in the fireplace. With opposition pressing in against her efforts not to sit there and replay every word, every inflection, every sparkle in Jackson Drake’s gorgeous eyes, Emma lost the battle and surrendered to warm, smile-inducing thoughts of him. Oh, she knew how ridiculous it was; how utterly pointless and possibly even dangerous. But did she stop herself and send herself to bed?

  Curling into the chair like a cat near a hearth, Emma closed her eyes and purred softly. When she’d turned over the key and her car just clicked, Emma had expected the worst: a long wait for the auto club, numb fingers and a runny nose from the cold. Instead, a handsome rescuer had appeared, and she’d been given the unplanned opportunity to know Jackson on a more personal level.

  Emma had never been one for warm, gushy feelings, but there in the dim midnight rays streaming through the window of her apartment, she had to admit there was a bit of a marshmallow forming around her heart. In fact, in retrospect, the whole evening with Jackson had taken on the feeling of an unexpected gift dropped right in her path, and if a girl couldn’t get a little mushy about that, well …

  Really now, Emma Rae. Get over yourself.

  Ah, there she was. The real Emma had at last stood up inside her.

  What took you so long?

  The sarcastic, cynical Emma had finally arrived; the one who knew that fluffy visions and starry-eyed notions about broad-shouldered rescuers and happily ever afters were best confined to romance novels and Jennifer Aniston movies.

  “Better late than never,” she muttered, and she tossed the chenille blanket aside, unfolded from the chair and trudged off to bed.

  “It’s not even eight in the morning,” Emma growled as she looked out the window and jumped at another blast of Jackson’s car horn. “Oh, man! My neighbors are going to love me.”

  She snapped the lock on the front door and slipped into her coat, hurrying down the stairs.

  “You’re early,” she managed to say, one of her gloves flopping out from between clenched teeth.

  Jackson glanced at the clock on the dash. “I said eight.”

  “Yes,” she replied, pulling the door shut and fussing with the seatbelt. “It’s not eight yet.”

  “It’s seven forty-six.”

  “That’s not eight.”

  She noticed a slight roll of the eyes.

  “Tea with cream and sweetener,” he mumbled, and he shifted gears and eased out into traffic. “Beg your pardon?”

  “I stopped for coffee,” he said with a nod toward the two paper cups tilted against the dash. “I got you tea with cream and sweetener.”

  “Oh!” she popped, grabbing the cup with the string hanging from it. “Thank you. You’re forgiven.”

  “Forgiven,” he repeated. “For what?”

  “For being early.”

  “I’m not early.”

  “Is it eight o’clock yet?” she asked. She sniffed the steam from the cup and sighed. “No. It is not. That means you’re early.”

  She thought she sensed a response making its way out of him, but instead he focused on the road ahead in silence.

  This is sure a different guy from the one who left my house last night.

  “A lot going on today,” he grumbled a few minutes later.

  “Oh?”

  “Orientation for the wait staff and housekeeping.”

  “That’s today?”

  “Do you know anything about the fire marshal?”

  Emma chuckled. “Not a thing. Why?”

  “Well, you knew what was wrong with the elevator, and you directed me to a linen service. I just thought you might know about the fire marshal too.”

  “No,” she assured him. “Are the inspectors coming today?”

  “Ten thirty.”

  Emma sipped her tea and glanced at the rolling gray clouds on the horizon. “Looks like rain.”

  “Norma e-mailed about a tentative wedding group,” he said. “Did she cc you on that?”

  “I haven’t checked yet today.”

  “The couple is local, but they have family coming in from three states.”

  “Mmm,” she perked up, taking another sip from her cup. “They’ll need rooms then.”

  “The bride and her mother are coming in this week for a tour. Oh, and your friend Harry dropped the lawsuit. Did I tell you that?”

  “No, you didn’t. That’s great.”

  He sort o
f grunted in agreement, and Emma shook her head. What in the world had happened to him in the last twelve hours?

  Jackson pulled into the circle in front of the hotel and parked behind her Mini Cooper. Emma had cranked open her door, unlatched her seatbelt, and flung her legs out before she realized he wasn’t moving.

  “Jackson?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You might want to get out of the car then.”

  He seemed to think that over before responding. “Yeah.”

  Emma slipped back into the seat and closed her door, then turned sideways toward him. “Can I help?”

  “No.”

  “Really? Because you look like you might need some help.” When he didn’t reply, she touched his arm. “You’re kind of freaking me out.”

  He tilted his head downward and released a puff of a chuckle. “Welcome to my world.”

  “What, you’re freaking out?”

  “Little bit, yeah.”

  “Why?”

  Jackson shook his head slowly before finally raising his eyes and looking at her. “I’m trying to figure out what on earth I was thinking when I bought a hotel.”

  “Well, that’s easy,” she said on a sigh. “You were taking a chance.” He turned his glance toward her. “You were stepping out into an arena where you’d never been before to honor your late wife, and to break out of the corporate rut you were stuck in. You were thinking you would build something brand new, from the bottom up.”

  “Sounds pretty ignorant when you put it like that, doesn’t it?”

  “No,” she reassured him.

  “It sounds brave.” Jackson looked away for a long moment, and then he sighed. “Are you a praying person, Emma?”

  “Not so much in recent years, no.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Madeline and Georgiann appeared at the driver’s window and began to knock, Madeline shooting one of those big toothy smiles of hers right at them, while Norma jogged around the car and pulled open Emma’s door.

  “I don’t know,” Jackson said without looking back at her. “I just found myself wishing for a miracle all of a sudden.”

  Emma chuckled, and then looked into the side mirror just in time to see Reverend Miguel climb out of the car behind them.

  “You might want to talk to him about that,” she suggested with an over-the-shoulder nod.

  Jackson groaned slightly as he climbed out of the car.

  “Here are your keys, Emma,” Norma said, placing the car key into the palm of her hand. “Jackson had me meet the auto club this morning, and they’ve replaced your battery. It was dead as a doornail.”

  “Oh, thank you …”

  Everyone seemed to be talking at once, and Jackson reached the front door and raised both hands. “Hang on! One at a time.”

  Emma lowered her head as she moved around them toward the hotel. “Have a nice day,” she muttered, and Jackson gave her arm a soft poke with his elbow as she passed.

  Every table in the restaurant was occupied, and a large rectangular one at the front held piles of uniforms and stacks of paperwork. Norma flew past her into the restaurant, and then skidded as she turned back toward her.

  “Oh, Emma, good morning. Is there any chance you might have time to help me?”

  “Sure.”

  Norma turned around and raised her voice to the group gathered inside. “Everyone. Attention please, everyone!”

  The rumble of voices faded down to nothing, and Norma thanked them. “I’d like you to meet Emma Rae Travis. She is our award-winning pastry chef and baker. When you’ve finished filling out your paperwork, please go and hand it to Emma behind the table—” Making circles with her arm, Norma motioned Emma over toward the table at the front of the room. “—and she’ll help you find your uniform.”

  Emma looked up just in time to catch sight of Fee heading for the kitchen, and she found herself making the same flailing circular motion with her arm that Norma had made. Obedient to the call, Fee tossed her backpack through the kitchen door and joined Emma at the front of the restaurant.

  “What’s all this?”

  “Orientation.”

  “To what?”

  “I’m not sure. But you’re helping.”

  “Oh good. I was hoping for a confusing task to start my day.”

  “Fee,” Norma breathed when she saw her. “Lovely.” Appearing somewhat frantic, she pointed in opposite directions and instructed, “Fee, you can take the serving staff, and Emma, you take the housekeeping table. Each uniform package contains two uniforms and a folder with regulations, their hours and scheduling and general information about The Tanglewood. They are each labeled with the person’s name. Collect their paperwork, hand over their uniform package, and then—” She leaned in and whispered, “—get them out of here.”

  A couple of dozen housekeepers and three supervisors later, every one of the uniform packages had been dispersed from Emma’s table, and she moved over to Fee’s to help her do the same.

  “Fourteen waitresses, seven waiters, twelve busboys and six dishwashers,” Norma read from a list at the top of her clipboard. Flipping the page, she added, “Four hostesses and six bartenders.”

  Emma was tempted to shout, “Hike!” But she resisted.

  Norma looked at her watch and frowned. “It’s not even eleven o’clock, and I’m exhausted.”

  “How about I go and put together a little sustenance,” Fee suggested. “Some coffee and a snack for the three of us?”

  “That sounds lovely.”

  “Tea for me?”

  “You head ’em up, and move ’em out,” Fee said to Emma as she passed.

  “Okay!” Emma exclaimed, prodding the thick of the crowd like cattle. “Everyone has their initial schedule, their uniforms and their hotel packet. If you have questions, there’s a number to call inside the folder. Use the side door to the parking lot, and have a great day.”

  When Emma had seen the last of them out the door, she returned to the restaurant to find Norma moving from table to table, collecting pens and scraps of paper and pushing chairs into place.

  “Thank you so much for your help, Emma.”

  “Happy to.”

  Norma sank into one of the chairs and propped her feet on another. “Really, you were hired as a baker, not an assistant recruiter or a security officer.”

  Emma chuckled. “It’s a new business, Norma. We all pitch in; that’s how it works.”

  “Well, thank you.” Fee entered with a large tray, and Norma brightened. “Oh, halleluiah. Thank you, too!”

  “Em, your mom called,” Fee announced as she set the tray on the table. “She left a message with the service. Something about your Aunt Sophie’s new digs over in Sandy Springs. I guess she’s in town, huh?”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful,” Norma commented as she creamed her coffee. “My sister will be so pleased.”

  “Yeah, she said she’ll call you this afternoon.”

  Oh, good.

  They’d no sooner gathered around the coffee and scones than Emma glanced up and noticed Norma brighten again, and she turned around to see what had caused such a beaming smile.

  “Hello, Princess.”

  Emma hopped from her chair so quickly that she nearly fell over it. “Dad!”

  “Mister Travis!” Fee exclaimed, and then her face melted into a mixture of horror and disbelief. “Uh-oh, Em. This is not good.”

  Emma jerked her head over her shoulder and met Fee’s eyes with her own flaming ones. “I know!”

  “This is your father?” Norma asked.

  “What are … what are you doing here?” Emma asked, using the table to balance herself upright.

  “What do you think? I’m visiting my daughter. Come here and give your old man a hug.”

  Emma’s heart pounded with foreboding as she moved toward him, sort of like the soundtrack of a movie
when the tuba and trombone let the audience know that the plot is about to take a menacing turn.

  Gavin and Avery Travis in the same town, at the same time?

  There wasn’t anything Emma could think of that was more menacing than that!

  FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

  One-Stop Wedding Hotel Gears for Opening in Historic Roswell

  ROSWELL, Ga.—The Tanglewood Inn of Roswell, once known as a premiere Georgia boutique hotel, was bought earlier this year by corporate raider Jackson Drake (formerly with Atlanta’s Drummond & Associates), whose late wife Desiree Drake worked at The Tanglewood until her death in 2008. Drake is in the process of converting the inn into a full-service bridal nirvana of sorts offering clients event planning for parties, pre-wedding events and showers, as well as the ceremony, reception, and honeymoon.

  The new Tanglewood boasts 144 unique guest rooms, including 20 Grand Suites, and features four-poster beds, gas fireplaces, carved armoires, and the elegant Victorian flair for which the hotel has always been known. Some of the rooms have wrought-iron balconies which overlook a New Orleans-style courtyard, while others include bay windows large enough to stand in and beautiful city views.

  The overhaul of the establishment will introduce an exclusive 100-seat restaurant operated by world-famous chef Anton Morelli (open to outside patrons from 5 p.m. until 11 p.m. Sunday through Thursday) and an English tea room (open on Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons from 1:00 p.m. until 4:30 p.m. by reservation only). Facilities include three ballrooms, a 200-seat theater, a guest library, and a brick courtyard for private social events hosted beneath the open Georgia sky.

  Weddings and events booked at The Tanglewood will have menu choices from chef Anton Morelli’s gourmet repertoire, as well as custom wedding cake design by Emma Rae Travis, this year’s recipient of the coveted Passionate Palette Award for her six-tiered crème brûlée wedding cake masterpiece.

  The new hotel opens the first weekend of next month with an invitation-only wedding-themed kick-off event which is meant to celebrate the marriage of the historic Roswell community and its newest and most exclusive setting for Happily Ever Afters.