I was already regretting it, though. And I knew I would only regret it more when the next day came.
I hadn't taken my eyes off him from the moment he'd walked in the store.
"You know, you can trust him a little," Pippa whispered to me as she tied her apron behind her back. "It's not like he's going to burn the place down."
"Pippa, if he works here, it's on my terms. And that means never taking my eyes off him for one moment."
Pippa held her hands up. "Okay, okay, you got it, boss. Now, what do you want Marcello to do first?"
Hmm. Definitely nothing involving food, which was difficult in a bakery. Drinks maybe? I wondered just how badly he could screw up a cup of coffee.
"Does he know how to use a cappuccino machine?"
"I'm sure he can learn. He is Italian, after all!"
But as soon as the milk hit the frother and Marcello had managed to cover himself, me, and Pippa in hot milk before dropping the entire jug on the ground, I knew that he couldn't learn. At least, not until we were closed to customers and I had the time to teach him. And I'd had a few glasses of wine first.
"I'll get a mop."
While Marcello was in the cleaning closet—I figured there was only so much trouble he could get up to in there—I took a minute to check my phone.
I had a new message from Justin. What happened yesterday with Renee and Adam???
I'd been putting off messaging him. I wasn't yet sure what to make of either of them, they both could have done it, and I wanted to dig for some more information on both without Justin's opinions of them clouding my own good judgment.
I decided not to reply. Just as I was about to put my phone back in my pocket, a call from a private number flashed up on the screen.
I hovered over the 'reject' option before finally tapping it. I never answer calls from private numbers as a matter of principle. If it's someone I know, or it it's important, they can leave a message.
They did, but unfortunately not a text message. A voice message. I sighed and glanced towards the mop cupboard, wondering what was taking Marcello so long. I really should go check on him.
But with everything that was going on, I was worried the message could be important. Maybe it was Jackson. Maybe something had been discovered about Pierre.
I listened to the message while keeping one eye out for Marcello at the back of the shop.
"Hello...Rachael?" It was the kindly voice of an older woman, one that I thought I recognized but couldn't quite place. "I'm not sure this is the right number, I received it from Justin. Anyway," the voice continued briskly, if a little unsurely. "This is Dawn Ashfield calling, from Baking Warriors. I'm still in town. Production is in a bit of limbo right now, as you can imagine. But we have some good news for you. Give me a call back when you have a chance, dear," she said, before leaving her number.
Dawn Ashfield just called me? Well. Now I wished I had broken my stance on picking up calls from private numbers. I was just about to punch her number back in when I heard a squealing noise coming from the direction of the kitchen.
Or maybe the mop closet.
"What is that smell?" I muttered. Then I saw it. Gray smoke rising from the top of the door of the kitchen.
Pippa burst through the swinging doors coughing and spluttering. "Rach! Quick! Call the fire department!"
I sighed and began pressing the numbers. I didn't even have to ask how it had happened.
I wan't even surprised.
"To be fair to Marcello," Pippa said. "He didn't know that you weren't supposed to mix those two kinds of cleaning fluids...next to an open flame."
I surveyed the damage to the kitchen while we both hunched together on the bottom part of a bench. Luckily a lot of it was superficial. And luckily we had more than one oven because one of them was doused in fire extinguishing foam.
I was more concerned with the loss of profits from the entire morning we'd had to close the shop.
"I'm sorry. I never should have asked if he could work here. But even I never thought he'd do this," she said, throwing her hands up at the blackened room.
"I thought he would do it," I said flatly. I wasn't even mad. I had been expecting something like this to happen. My only surprise was that it wasn't even worse.
"So I suppose he is fired then?"
I turned slowly toward Pippa. "Yes, Pippa. I think it's safe to say that the trial period was not a success."
Pippa sighed and stood up. "I'll help you clean up then. We can't stay shut all day."
"Umm," I muttered, distracted by my phone ringing again. I'd totally forgotten all about the phone call from Dawn. I still didn't know what this important news was she had to tell me. I glanced at Pippa, who started to scrub down a stovetop.
"Hey, you know what? You should go home and make sure Marcello is okay."
Pippa turned around in surprise. "Really?"
"Yeah, it's fine. I think we should just close for the day."
"Only if you're sure."
I was sure. Sure that I wanted to call Dawn Ashfield back and find out what the heck was going on. I was sure that if Dawn was calling me herself that the news must be important.
That meant I must be important.
Maybe filming is going ahead in secret. You know, they'd have to be a bit sensitive about it following Pierre's death...and I've been cast...and they just need to know when I'm available and how discreet I can be.
Man, I was starting to sound like Justin. Or Adam. It's just that the reality TV bug had bitten me hard. I needed to know what was happening with the show.
Pippa took her apron off. "So are you coming home with me?"
"Er, no. Are you all right to walk?" I asked her. "It's a bit cooler today so you should be fine. I've got some banking I need to take care of."
"Banking? Come on, Rachael, that's your go-to lie."
"It's not a lie this time. Promise."
As soon as Pippa was out the door, I punched Dawn's number into my phone.
"Hello, dear," she said, like she was a little surprised I'd actually called back. "I hope you're coping okay after everything that's happened."
"I'm sorry for your loss," I said. "I know that you and Pierre were very close."
"It's a tough time," she said. "Listen, Rachael, I've got something very important to tell you."
"Is it about the show?" I asked, a little too eagerly.
"It is," she replied. "Are you available to meet up sometime?"
"Yes, of course I am!" Way too eager again. "I am free right now actually."
She chuckled a little. "Right now might be a little too soon for me, dear. How about tomorrow?"
"Oh," I said, trying not to sound disappointed. "Yes, tomorrow is fine." I supposed there wasn't much point to closing down the bakery for the day now.
"Meet me down at the studio at 11:00 AM. I'll see you tomorrow."
"What should I wear?" I called out, running into the living room with a dress in each hand, only to come face to face with Pippa and Marcello engaging in a giant make-out session.
"Oh," I said, braking on my heels. "Sorry. I'll give you some space."
"No, Rach! It's fine," Pippa said, waving me back. "After all, this is your apartment."
Marcello was looking red-faced and sheepish. "Hello, Rachael." He straightened up, though Pippa was still half-draped over him. "I just want to assure you that I will pay you back for all the damage at the bakery. Just as soon as I get another job."
I tried not to open my eyes too wide at the mention of Marcello finding another job. Who would be crazy enough to hire him? I had to wonder what kind of job Marcello would even be suited for. Some place where he didn't have to make anything, touch anything, or take on any responsibilities. My mind was coming up blank.
"It's okay, Marcello. I've got insurance." But I had to wonder if insurance would cover an employee who wasn't even officially employed yet. I hadn't put Marcello on the books for his 'trial' period. Anyway, I had bigger things to worr
y about. Like what to wear for my meeting with Dawn Ashfield in the morning.
"Does it even matter?" Pippa asked. Pippa was the kind of girl who could be 'girly' in certain ways—take marrying a perfect stranger and gushing about his every eccentricity like a love sick puppy, for instance—but who was completely ungirly at other times. Take clothes, for instance. She wasn't the kind of girl to gush over outfits. She didn't even like shopping. So I wasn't surprised when I held up the dresses to ask "Blue or purple?" and her eyes glazed over.
"It does matter. I need to impress Dawn. Pippa, I think this is a sort of secret audition. Or maybe we're even going to start filming. After all, Justin told me I was practically a shoo-in to make the cut. And Dawn has influence on the show, you know. Without Pierre around, she probably makes the final decision. I'm kinda nervous."
"Well, I think either dress is fine." Pippa frowned. "But don't get your hopes up too high. She could want to see you about anything."
Just then my phone started to ring. "That's probably… Oh! It's Justin." At first I was a little disappointed, but then I realized something. "Pips, if Justin is calling me then that DEFINITELY means that filming is back on!"
Pippa went back to kissing Marcello while I took the phone call. "Justin?" I said excitedly. "I think I know what this phone call is about."
"You do?" he asked, cutting me off.
"Yes," I said, holding up the blue dress in front of the full-length mirror in the hall. "It's about the show, right?" I lowered my voice in a cheeky, conspiratorial manner. "It's about filming, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is," Justin said, surprised. "Oh, so you already know that filming is being put on hold indefinitely."
I dropped the dress. "Excuse me?"
"I'm having to call all the auditionees," Justin said with a sigh, showing just how over it all he was. "Tell them all that the show is technically 'on hiatus' until this whole Pierre business is sorted out. Basically, if the show ever comes back--and I mean IF--then we'll have to hold all the auditions again."
I was stunned into silence. "But, Justin, I thought you said Pierre liked me, that I was going through to the next round."
"Pierre did like you," Justin said, just a little too pointedly, I thought. "But Pierre is dead, Rachael. He won't have much sway over who gets on the show from beyond the grave."
I moved into my bedroom and slumped down on my bed. "I just thought... Never mind."
Justin must have heard my glumness. "Hey, it's okay. You can audition again. You were great."
"So you said."
Justin clucked his tongue and lowered his voice. "I don't suppose you had a chance to speak to Adam and Renee, did you?"
"I did, actually. Still forming my conclusions there."
"Ha." I could hear Justin's heavy sigh down the end of the line. "Honey, I just got off the phone with Adam myself, and let me tell you, he is ECSTATIC over the news."
"Ecstatic? Why is that?"
"Well, honey, he knew he didn't get through. He blew his audition, and not just in the 'kind of' blew it way that you did. I mean, his cake was inedible. Maybe we could have pushed him through if he had any kind of personality to speak of on the day, but he totally froze up, and not even in an entertaining way. Pierre hated him. We'd already sent him home that day WELL before Pierre's body was found."
Hang on. But Adam said he'd heard the screams when Pierre had been found.
And that wasn't the only thing he'd told me.
"But Adam told me that he'd gone through to the next round. Or at least that he was pretty sure he had."
"Nope," Justin replied. "We'd told him thanks but no thanks. Try again next year. So, you can imagine that this is all very good news to him. If we rehold auditions then Adam gets another shot." Justin sighed. "Not that I think he has what it takes, but hey, I'm just the genius producer of the whole thing. Rachael? Are you still there?"
"Er, yes," I said, standing up. I'd been lost in my own thoughts. "I have to go, Justin. Thanks for calling."
"Hey, Rachael," he whispered again. "You ARE still working on trying to clear my name, right?"
"I am Justin. That's why I've got to go. I think I better make another visit to Adam Ali."
Chapter 7
"Dawn?" I asked tentatively, as I stuck my neck into the greenroom like a nervous gander. No one there.
Hmm.
Maybe I should just leave. After all, there was no way that Dawn wanted to confide in me about my top secret casting on Baking Warriors. I cringed now, remembering that I'd been so sure of her intentions, so sure that I'd made it on TV. What made me cringe even harder was how much I'd wanted it to be true.
My heart started to thud a little. What if it's bad news she wants to tell me? Maybe she wanted to tell me that my audition was so abhorrent that I should never bother embarrassing myself by trying again.
I should just leave. I need to talk to Adam.
"Hello, dear!"
I stifled a scream as I managed to control myself from jumping out of my skin. Dawn was standing behind me with a big, warm grin on her face that immediately put me at ease. She was probably only old enough to be my mother, but she had that 'grandmotherly' vibe about her that made you want to spend the afternoon with her baking cookies. Or just being taken care of by her.
For a few seconds I missed my own grandmother. I was ashamed to find that I could feel tears beginning to prick my eyes and I quickly turned away.
"Oh, heavens, are you okay, dear?" Dawn placed a hand on my arm and stroked it gently. That, unfortunately, only made the tears fiercer.
"I'm fine," I said quickly, putting a bright smile on my face. "Just had a silly moment there."
Dawn smiled sympathetically. "I suppose you've heard that filming has been delayed indefinitely. But don't worry, dear, you'll be able to audition again when the time comes. I'm sure you'll be on the top of the producer’s lists. Is that what's got you so upset?"
I shook my head quickly. "No. Geesh, I hope I wouldn't cry just because a TV show was being delayed. I hope I'm not quite that desperate to be famous." Was I though? I wondered if the disappointment of the news Justin had given me was actually mixing together with my sudden grief and making me feel more emotional than I would have otherwise.
I didn't want Dawn to think me that shallow. "I'm just missing my grandma today.” I glanced around the studio where the Baking Warriors logos and branding still stood, all pink and white lettering with puffs of flour and sugar surrounding the font. "She was the one who taught me to bake." I bowed my head. "I thought that being on the show might make her proud. Well, if she can still be proud of me, wherever she is now." I took a deep breath. "She passed away a few years ago, just before I opened my bakery. She never got to see that either."
"Oh, I'm sorry, dear. Come on, why don't we go grab a coffee and we can talk about it." She smiled that warm smile at me and I teared up again, but nodded, grateful for the opportunity.
The venue Dawn had chosen didn't exactly thrill me.
But as we walked through the automatic doors of Bakermatic, I smiled anyway and offered a polite nod to the manager, Simona, as I slid into the booth across from Dawn.
"I love this place," Dawn said, glancing around the store. "So bright and yellow. Like happiness."
The place hadn't exactly caused me a great deal of happiness. For a while there, the low prices and underhanded practices of Bakermatic had threatened to put my boutique bakery out of business. But we had reached a sort of truce these days. Meaning, basically, that we just stayed out of each other’s hair, and Simona didn't send staff down the road to hand out fliers in the front of my store.
"I'll order," I said. "What would you like?"
Dawn said she'd have a cappuccino and a brownie. I had to bite my tongue to stop from pointing out that none of the cakes were baked on the premises and that they arrived in plastic, filled with preservatives. Whatever Dawn Ashfield wanted, Dawn Ashfield got, as far as I was concerned.
It was a little
awkward when I finally got to the counter to order from Simona, but not for the reason I'd originally thought it would be.
Simona wasn't quite looking at me as I ordered the cappuccino, brownie, and a vanilla latte for myself. I thought we were over the whole mortal enemies thing so I was a little surprised.
"How's business been?" I asked, as casually and as friendly as I could.
Simona just nodded as she punched the orders into a tablet screen. "Sugar?" she asked as her long black ponytail swung forward, covering her face and almost obscuring her words.
"Er..." I hadn't asked Dawn. "Just a couple of packets on the side."
Simona finally looked at me. Then her gaze drifted out the window to where the tents filled with press still stood to form a makeshift campsite. "So, is what they are saying true, Rachael?"
I shrugged, unsure. "That depends on what they are saying." I thought about Justin still holed up in his hotel room. "I know they are trying to pin it on one of the producers, but I was there and I don't think he did it." I wasn't really sure I ought to be speculating like that. I also wasn't sure why I was in such a rush to trip over myself to defend Justin.
Simona made a face as though she had no idea what I was talking about. "No," she said, lowering her voice into a whisper. "I'm talking about the rumors about you and Pierre."
I felt my face redden. The creep of the blush must have been slow at first but after a few seconds, my cheeks burned like a furnace and I was certain I must be red as a tomato. "That's...that's in the press?" I whispered. I glanced over my shoulder in dismay to look at Dawn.
Did she know?
Oh, this was so humiliating.
"I'm sorry, Rachael. I assumed you knew."
I shook my head. "I haven't looked at any of the news," I mumbled, grabbing my sugar packets and taking them back to the table. I'd been avoiding all the press coverage so that it didn't influence my investigation. Now their glowering glares and sniggers the other morning made so much more sense.
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