Just Desserts

by Barbara Bretton

This had better be one of the overseas promoters with a poor grasp of time zones faxing over an agreement for countersignature and not some moron from one of the contiguous forty-eight.

  “What the—?” he muttered as he surveyed the litter of pages scattered across the hardwood floor. The fax shrieked again and began to pump out more pages at a rapid clip.

  Time for action. He bent down and peered behind the fax machine, located the phone jack, and detached the cord. Then he yanked the plug from the electrical socket. He considered taking the machine itself and tossing it out the window but decided against it.

  He kicked aside a pile of pages and was halfway out the door when something caught his eye and he stopped. He bent down and retrieved a sketch of a drum set and a scribbled note.

  Attn: Finn Rafferty

  From: Hayley G.—Goldy’s Bakery

  I’m faxing two pages of sketches for the Stiles project. Instead of creating one giant cake (bass drum), I propose an entire drum set composed of oversized decorated cookies (built up on suitably decorated supports) and ten individual double-layer cakes gilded w/gold & silver leaf to rep After Life’s platinum & gold record sales. All at agreed upon price.

  Let me know what you think ASAP.

  Hayley

  He yawned, hooked everything back up again, and scribbled a response on the cover sheet. The woman was clearly one of those morning types. Probably took after her mother.

  “Hayley!” Maureen’s voice rang out across the bakery kitchen. “Incoming!”

  Hayley made a dash for the machine. Talk about a dedicated employee. Clearly working for a superstar wasn’t a walk in the park.

  She grabbed the page the second the machine spat it out onto the tray.

  No problem. 10 cakes idea is great.

  FR

  Finn was messing in the kitchen fiddling with the wonky cord on his coffeemaker when he heard the fax machine shriek again.

  He hadn’t moved that fast since his days on the college track team.

  Glad you like it but what about your boss?

  Hayley

  “Again with the fax machine.” Frank’s knowing grin merited another sock in the ribs from his wife, Maureen. “Hot deal in the works?”

  “Hotter than you know,” Hayley said with an answering grin. “There’s something big in the wind, Frankie!”

  She grabbed the latest fax.

  He’ll be fine w/it. You have the go-ahead.

  FR

  I need that in writing.

  Hayley

  You just got it in writing.

  FR

  I mean, an amended contract.

  Hayley

  She jumped when her cell rang.

  “You’re serious?” a male voice said.

  An idiotic smile broke across her face and she turned away from Frank’s and Maureen’s curious stares.

  “I’m very serious.”

  “You want the contract amended.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I’m the lawyer and I’m not worried.”

  “That’s why I am worried.”

  It popped out. She hadn’t meant to say it but there it was. Good-bye to the ten cakes, the deposit, the whole deal.

  But he surprised her by laughing. And not just one of those you’ll-pay-for-that-crack kind of laughs. A real one.

  Despite herself, her smile widened.

  “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” she said.

  “Sure you did. I don’t trust lawyers either.”

  It was her turn to laugh. “Now I’m sure I want an amended contract.”

  Rafferty didn’t miss a beat. “If you want one, I’ll fax you one.”

  She listened for subtext but there didn’t seem to be any. If she had stepped on his male ego, he didn’t let on. The guy was either a darn good actor or remarkably secure.

  Now was the time to match his goodwill with a matching display of equal goodwill but she couldn’t seem to make that leap.

  “The amended contract?” he prodded. “Yes or no?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  She could hear the surprise in the silence between them.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll fax it to you later this morning.”

  “It’s nothing personal. I just believe in crossing all the t’s and dotting all the i’s.”

  “Check your account later this afternoon,” he reminded her. “The deposit should be available by two p.m.”

  “I know I sound paranoid. I mean, your faxed okay is probably enough but—”

  “You’re not paranoid. I’d advise a client to do exactly what you’re doing.”

  Which caught her attention. “You didn’t advise Tommy Stiles to get the contract amended. You were okay with just the fax. Why is that?”

  “I trust you.”

  “No, really.”

  He said it again. “I trust you.”

  “You don’t know me. How can you trust me?”

  “You own a bakery. You have a kid. You probably have pets.”

  “Five of them.”

  “See? You’re not a flight risk, are you?”

  “Not quite.”

  “You’ll either show up with those cakes or you won’t and if you don’t, we’ll ask for our deposit back.”

  “You make it sound very matter-of-fact.”

  “It’s not brain surgery,” he said. “We’d be out some money for a while but we’d get it back eventually.”

  “How?” she asked. “By sending some big strong men with small vocabularies to make me see reason?”

  “What goes on down there in Mayberry anyway? You sound like you’ve been watching too much of The Sopranos.”

  “My ex had a few enemies,” she said, because in the long run the truth was always easier to remember. “We’ve been divorced a long time but the random aftershock still pops up.”

  If awkward silences were tax deductible, she would have the biggest refund check in the history of the state of New Jersey.

  “Too much information again,” she said. “I talk first, think second. You think I’d learn, wouldn’t you? I mean it’s not like goons were showing up on our doorstep every day looking for him—” Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! “No, wait. That sounds terrible. Let’s just say you wouldn’t invite his friends to brunch.”

  Insert really long and awkward silence here.

  She plunged forward. “Okay. I told you I talk too much, right? It’s a good thing Lizzie isn’t here. She hates it when I do this.” She paused for breath. “I’m starting to feel really stupid, Rafferty. Now would be a good time to say something.”

  She waited. She listened.

  She heard the sound of…snoring?

  “Rafferty!” she practically shouted into the phone. “Are you sleeping!?”

  8

  It was like a bomb blast went off inside the earpiece.

  Finn jumped, hit his shin against the filing cabinet, then dropped the cell phone. The cell bounced against the printer stand and rolled under the desk chair near the window.

  By the time he retrieved it, Hayley had hung up.

  He pressed redial. It rang once, twice, six times.

  “Yes,” he said when she picked up. “I fell asleep.”

  “And this information is supposed to make me feel good?”

  “I was asleep when you first called. By the time we got back out here last night and talked to Tommy, the night was shot.”

  “You sleep in your office?”

  “My office is in my house,” he explained. “The fax woke me up.”

  A strangled sound emanated from New Jersey. “I thought I was faxing an empty office.”

  “You’re not the first person to think that.”

  “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  “I didn’t mean to fall asleep while you were talking.”

  “Without going into embarrassing detail,” she said, “you wouldn’t be the first.”

  He laughed and suddenly he wasn’t that tired anymore.
“My ex-wife fell asleep one night during sex.”

  He grinned at the sound of her laughter. “You’re making that up.”

  “Wish I was,” he said. “During some of my best moves too.”

  “That’s terrible!”

  “If I remember right, that’s what my ex said.”

  Laughing with a woman was a seriously underrated pastime. He wasn’t willing to commit to the idea, but laughing with the right woman might even be better than sex with the wrong one.

  “I forgot you have an ex.”

  “I forget sometimes too,” he said. “It was a long time ago.”

  “What happened?”

  Simple, direct, no nonsense. More proof, if he needed any, that Tommy’s blood ran through Hayley Goldstein’s veins. “Nothing very dramatic. We wanted different things.”

  “Like you wanted to continue seeing other women and she didn’t want you to?” She said it lightly but he caught the underlying edge.

  “Like she wanted to set down roots somewhere and my life was on the road with Tommy.”

  “You can’t work for a rocker and still set down roots?”

  “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I was twenty-two and it didn’t occur to me to try.”

  “And you never married again?”

  “No.”

  Under normal circumstances the awkward pause would have been filled with the next question, “How about you?” But he already knew the answer. He should have asked it anyway.

  “Well,” she said after a few moments had passed, “you must have made the right decision then.”

  “I thought so in my twenties, but lately I’m not that sure.”

  “I’m like your ex: I wanted to put down roots.”

  “Looks like you succeeded,” he observed. “You have Goldy’s, the cake business, the incredible Lizzie.”

  “Not to mention the three cats, one dog, and an angry parrot.”

  “You have a parrot?”

  “Angry parrot,” she corrected him. “That’s an important part of Mr. G’s personality.”

  “How did you end up with a parrot?”

  “Pretty much the same way I ended up with the others: soft heart, no willpower.”

  She gave him a rundown on the menagerie and how they came to live over Goldy’s Bakery.

  “The noise level must be intense.”

  “I live with a teenager,” she reminded him. “I’m used to it.”

  “I’ve been thinking about—”

  “Oh my God! It’s twenty after eight. I have a nine o’clock at the dentist and I—”

  “Go,” he said, wishing he had the guts to ask her to stay. “I’ll amend the contract you drew up, sign it, and fax it back to you this afternoon for your signature.”

  “Sounds great,” she said and she was gone.

  He was still smiling when he finally fell back to sleep.

  Hayley shut down her cell and turned around to find four pairs of eyes staring at her.

  “What?” she demanded, aware of the color rising to her cheeks. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

  “So who is he?” Frank asked. This time there was no warning nudge from his wife. “Any guy who can put that look on your face needs to come by so we can check him out.”

  “He’s right this time,” Maureen said, brushing back a lock of silvery-white hair from her forehead. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you glow like that.”

  “I’m not glowing,” Hayley protested. “I’m standing three feet away from a five-hundred-degree oven.”

  But they weren’t buying it. Michie, standing in the doorway to the store, arched a Mr. Spock brow in her direction while a very curious Rachel grinned.

  “He okayed the change of plans,” she said, pretending that wasn’t one of the top ten best phone conversations of her life. Even the hanging up part and the awkward silences. “He’ll be faxing over the amended contract.”

  “Shouldn’t you be the one amending the contract?” Michie asked. “You’re the one who drew it up.”

  She groaned. “Lizzie’s going to be horrified. What a stupid, stupid mistake.”

  “Sounds like he’s making the same stupid mistake,” Michie said. “Just make sure he doesn’t make another bigger one in his favor.”

  Hayley leaped to his defense. “Oh, he’s not like that at all.”

  “No offense,” Maureen tossed over her shoulder as she threw a round of bread dough onto the pastry board, “but how do you know what he’s like? You met the guy once.”

  Michie lowered her voice so only Hayley could hear her. “Mo is right. Aren’t you the same woman who said he was keeping something from you and you didn’t know what it was?”

  “I’m late for the dentist,” Hayley said, gathering up her purse and car keys. “If the fax comes in while I’m out, just leave it on my desk.” She stopped near the back door. “And if Aunt Fiona calls, tell her I’ll bring over the chicken Parm at lunchtime.”

  “Your wallet,” Maureen called out. “You left it on the table over there.”

  She darted over and scooped it up. “You’re looking at me again,” she said. “I’ve been up twenty-four hours straight. See how on top of things you are with no sleep.”

  Which, of course, was both the truth and a big fat lie. It wasn’t lack of sleep that had her feeling frazzled, giddy, and self-conscious, and everyone in Goldy’s kitchen knew it.

  Funny how a little conversation, a little laughter with a man could turn a woman inside out. Let your guard down just once and anything could happen.

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  Have a nice day

  Tommy was waiting for Finn on the deck when he got back to the house around noon.

  “You look like hell,” Tommy observed. “You should ask Jilly to give you one of those oxygen facials. Willow turned me on to them and—”

  “What I need is caffeine,” he broke in. “Preferably mainlined.”

  “I’m not doing caffeine anymore. Willow says—”

  Maybe it was the fact that he was running on less than three hours’ sleep but Finn wasn’t in the mood for the Gospel According to a Supermodel.

  “So what’s up? I thought you were taking Zach and Winston up to see Russell about new guitars.”

  Tommy looked out toward the ocean. “LeeLee called from Japan. She wants the whole school thing settled first.”

  “I thought it was settled.” Both boys were engaged in an epic struggle to get through high school.

  “One of the dancers she’s on tour with broke her leg in a car crash and probably won’t dance again. The kid’s twenty, a dropout, no other skills. It shook LeeLee up.” He glanced over at Finn. “Shook me up too.”

  “I can see how it would.” Right now the only thing Zach and Winston had going for them was their famous father. “How pissed are they?”

  Tommy gave a short laugh. “It’s gonna be a long day.”

  “Is there something you want me to do for the boys?” He wasn’t sure how his legal training played into the situation.

  On the beach a golden retriever chased a seagull along the shore while its owner, a spot of dark blue against the pale sand, trailed behind.

  “I called her.”

  It took a few seconds for the words to form themselves into something he understood.

  “You called Hayley?
” He felt like he had been kicked in the gut. He couldn’t imagine how she felt.

  Tommy nodded. “I got the number for the bakery from Information.” He shot Finn a look. “Don’t worry. She wasn’t there.”

  “I know,” Finn said, breathing easier. “She’s at the dentist.”

  “You talked to her again?”

  “Early this morning.” He explained about the fax and the design change.

  “She’s conscientious,” Tommy said with a wry smile. “Where’d she get that from?”

  “She’s talented, creative, a major force, but she’s not much of a businesswoman.”

  “She’s kept that place afloat for what—almost ten years now?”

  “You did your homework.”

  “That’s why you left the folder with me, right?”

  Finn nodded. “She’s a total right-brain type with a strong practical streak that doesn’t extend all the way to things like contracts.”

  “So Lizzie really does keep her eye on the bottom line.”

  “Seems like.”

  “Not a great situation.”

  “So far it’s working.” But for how much longer was anybody’s guess. Kids grew up, left home, started their own lives. Hayley was going to have to either take over the business side of the business or find someone else to handle the job.

  “What about that ex-husband of hers? Is he still a problem?”

  “Not so much. He’s staying down in Florida with his mother and hanging with the South Beach crowd. The investigator we hired did some poking around. It wasn’t pretty.”

  The expression on Tommy’s face was priceless. “And she sends him a check every month?”

  Finn shrugged. It was what it was and it had all been settled long before any of them came on the scene. “The bakery belonged to his family. His father left Hayley the sixty percent share and gave the rest to the son.” Props to the late Stan Goldstein for divising a plan that allowed her full control of the bakery and prevented her ex from selling his share out from under her.

  “She should buy the son of a bitch out.”

  “She and the kid live over the shop,” Finn reminded him. “I doubt she can afford to buy anyone out.”

  Tommy turned to face him and Finn raised his hand between them.