His sisters’ words echoed in his head now. What high-end winery pairs with a department store, of all places?
For the sake of expanding their customer base and to revive the lackluster winery after the long years of his parents’ constant bickering and highly expensive attorneys, Noah had to convince his reluctant sisters this was a great decision and direction for the company to go in. The attraction to be featured as the exclusive wine consumed at upper-class weddings King’s coordinated and to be included in their destination honeymoon gift baskets, as well as online holiday promotions, proved far too lucrative to pass up. The marketing and name recognition alone would be worthwhile. Hopefully, this model would be the first of many to come.
Thankfully, after much heated debate, they agreed. However, he had to handle it personally and pull the plug if they were ridiculed in any way, shape, or form.
“On one condition, Noah.” His sister, Bethany, had looked him square in the eye. “Make it work.”
“Or?” He hated when she gave him the stink eye. She’d perfected that look since childhood.
“Get married.”
“Not that again.”
“You, my brother, need to carry on the Blackstock name.”
“All in due time.”
“I’ll personally see to finding your betrothed.”
He still shuddered when he thought about her warning. She’d do it, too. Three years ago, when she lost hope her parents would ever settle their differences, she’d come to the conclusion she needed to find a husband and start popping out babies. Something about gluing the Blackstocks together. The business-like precision Bethany delivered on that promise caused his other sisters and him to take notice of her future warnings.
His quiet brother-in-law seemed happy enough, going along with whatever his sister decreed for him and their two kids—back-to-back babies. Their father had done the same, semi-retiring to focus on saving his generations-old family’s vineyard from the repeated subsequent divorce court proceedings to bleed the vineyard of more money. He—along with most everyone in the family—buckled under the pressure of Bethany’s willpower until giving up the fight altogether.
No way would Noah allow her fierce determination to take over his direction in life. The business, and bringing it back and into another realm, came first and foremost.
Noah would do anything to avoid the marriage trap.
Hadn’t his mother and father proved it didn’t work? After seventeen years of their union, his stoic mother hurled accusations at his father day after day until neither could be in the same room together. With a lawyer hired, his mother walked out, taking as many liquid assets as she possibly could. That blow to the family and the vineyard began the swirling descent.
Squashing rumors and rebuilding the family business crowded Noah’s agenda. The setbacks piled on. Now, with blinders on, he’d do anything to jump the latest hurdle. Joining forces with the well-respected Kings may very well be the new beginning they sought.
One delicate dessert wine. One opportunity. Succeed or fail. His sisters lumped it on his shoulders. He nearly groaned now. Could he change his family’s fate?
***
Following Bruno’s instructions after the guard alerted someone over his radio to Noah’s arrival and then punched in the code, Noah road up alone in the elevator. Its smooth ascent barely gave him time to wipe his mind clear of the threat that hung over his head.
“Focus,” he muttered. His heart beat a fast, steady rhythm with each floor that passed by.
It halted. The doors dinged open.
A pretty, tall woman, clutching a clipboard, and a stylishly-dressed man—a silky pale blue scarf draped around his neck—greeted Noah with empty wine glasses thrust at him.
“Free samples, wine man?” they asked in unison.
Noah burst out laughing. Their chuckles joined his and they lowered their glasses.
“Holy crumb cake, a girl’s gotta try, doesn’t she?” She poked her elbow in to her friend’s arm. “Right, Rico?”
“I’ll say, Pegster!” His gaze took in everything about Noah, from the top of his head to the tips of his polished black boots. “Yummy!”
“Thanks. I think.” Noah smiled. “The welcoming committee, I see.”
Pegster, as the guy called her, grabbed his arm and practically yanked him out of the elevator, ordered Rico to open the glass doors, and then ushered him in, with Rico trailing behind. “Boss 3 is waiting. He can be a little grumpy—”
“I’m right here, Peg. You do know I can fire you, right?” Griffin leaned an elbow against the high receptionist’s desk.
“Geez Louise, you weren’t supposed to follow us! We wanted to butter him up first. You know, wine.”
“W-I-N-E!” Rico nearly squealed, scrunching up his face and shoulders, clutching both his and the woman’s glass now, clinking together.
“I know how to spell it. Now does F-I-R-E mean anything to you two?”
“All right, all right!” She still clung to Noah, muttering, “So we’re talking discounts, like deep, deep discounts?”
“Let go of Blackstock, Peg,” Griffin ordered in a low voice covered in steel as he straightened to his full height and adjusted his suit jacket.
“You are so not fun!” Rico chimed in, tugging his friend aside. “Come on, pal. We’ll join in the taste testing part.”
Griff shook his hand. “Don’t let them scare you away.”
The alternative frightened Noah even more. “Not possible. How’s your wife? You have a daughter I haven’t met yet, right?” The King family visited the winery weeks ago, minus their kids. Part business and part pleasure, it proved the defining moment for his sisters’ acceptance. They understood Charlie’s pregnancy prevented her from drinking. However, they took objection to Griff not indulging in Blackstock wine. The man had his reasons for not partaking. Who were they to force him?
“There’s been a slight change of plans.”
Noah’s heart thudded to a halt. “The contract? Is there a problem?” Had they found out about his divided family? Keeping that tidbit suppressed took a great deal of work over the years.
“Last-minute glitch. Got a sidelined judge.” Peg flipped her clipboard around to show him a flyer. “Baking contest.” She turned it back and hugged it tight. “Whaddya say?”
Griff shook his head. “Don’t mind Peg. She speaks fluent broken sentences.”
He chuckled.
Clutching her chest, Peg gasped. “Mayday! Mayday! Boss 3 made a joke! Rico,” she winked at him, “we’ll need wine— lots of it—to recover.”
“I likee the way you thinkee, Pegster!” He held up both glasses to Noah and opened his eyes wide, like a puppy dog. “More, please!”
The grin gave Noah away.
“Oh, divine!” Rico turned to Peg. “Fan me, baby! I’m overheating here!”
“Rule number—God only knows—no harassing our partners, Rico and Peg.” Griffin sighed. “Short story, Blackstock, one of the judges had to drop out. Stu’s kids have the chicken pox. He, along with the kids and his wife, are under quarantine for a week or more. We’re short a judge for our baking contest. If you agree, we can incorporate Blackstock wine as one of the required ingredients in a recipe the contestants make.”
Rubbing his clean-shaven jaw, Noah contemplated the offer. Why did the hot blonde with the baby from Just Desserts flash across his mind? Her cupcakes were out of this world. Cupcakes? He nearly groaned at where his thoughts went with that one, trying to erase her small frame and compact body with the curves on top. Get your head out of the gutter, Noah!
Switching gears, he realized it may calm his sister down and allow him some much-needed breathing room until he got back home. “Fair warning, I’m not much of a judge.”
“Hah!” Peg snorted. “You got the taste buds, don’t ya, for the drinkee drinkee? All those flavors you test. You’ll fit right in! No probs.”
“Put like that, how can I refuse?”
“O
h, buttering up does work!” Rico skimmed his fingers along Noah’s arm and headed for the front of his black shirt. “Now, about those samples…”
“Rico.” Griff’s stern tone had the man yanking his hand back.
“Moi?” He sighed. “I know. I know. Don’t touch the merchandise or the merchandiser.” Rolling his eyes, he pressed a hand to his scarf. “Follow the rules. How boring!”
“No tasty morsels for you, buddy.” Peg snickered.
If this was what he had to look forward to, Noah figured he’d be hard-pressed to keep on his toes around these two. At least they weren’t nearly as pushy as Bethany. With the image of his tall, whip-thin, dark-haired sister snarling at him to settle down, he hastily made up his mind. “So when do we start?”
“Happy to have you aboard.” Griffin nodded to the door. “We can show you the setup now.”
“Oh, the cameras are going to love, love his gorg looks!” Rico nearly squealed again.
That drew Noah up short. “Cameras?” No one had said anything about being filmed.
Peg smacked him on the arm. “Hello, gorgeous.” She mimicked the famous actress-singer perfectly. Then she snorted, ruining the effect. “As in reality baking show straight from King’s. Holy Batman and Robin, the ladies are going to adore you! Boss, we got a winner on our hands!”
Noah gulped. Hard. The last thing he needed was more attention from women. Bethy would surely latch onto the notion to get her big brother hitched if he didn’t do something to squash it altogether before she got a peek at this baking contest show.
What did he just get himself into?
Chapter 3
Gretchen, still wearing the same clothes from this morning, carried Lola in front of her in her little knapsack carrier as she headed through King’s Department Store to the housewares department the nice doorman had directed her to.
The fancy, high-end store was certainly out of her league. Her budget didn’t include expensive purchases, but oh, she loved to window-shop, imagining what it would be like to wear a certain shimmery baby-blue cocktail dress with the strappy sparkly heels she’d drooled over. She’d come to gawk often and buy only once—a soft, pink and white King’s baby blanket for Lola when she was born.
The baby cooed, grabbing a tendril of Gretchen’s hair that flopped out from behind her ear. Lola clutched it as she forced her arms down, yanking hard.
“Ouch!” Gretch gingerly opened Lola’s hand and extracted the loose strands from it. “No pulling auntie’s hair, sweetie, or I’ll end up having bald patches.”
The baby giggled.
“You think that’s funny, don’t you?” Not in my world! In three or four years when Gretchen was ready to date again, she’d prefer to meet the guy with a decent head of hair. Images of her greeting him at the door with only tufts of hair blasted in her mind and she laughed out loud.
“Hey, I know you! Gretchen!”
She looked up, way up, as she rode the escalator to the second floor. “Danny! Twice in one day! Who would have thought I’d get this lucky?”
He grinned from ear to ear. When she got to the end of her ride, she teetered for a moment, the weight of the baby unbalancing her. He grabbed her arm. “Whoa! No falling. Not on my shift.”
“Thanks, buddy. I thought you worked in the stock room.”
“I do. But I’m helping out, extra stuff, bringing up the piles of mail we got for the contest.”
Gretch gulped hard. “That many?”
“Come on, I’ll show you.”
She hurried to keep up with his fast pace, following him around and down the aisles until they came upon a huge open space. In the middle was the kitchen area, surrounded by chairs for the audience and some lighting equipment.
“For our Wednesday cooking segments. They bring the cameras in the day of the shoot. Marcus, Dolly, and lots of the local chefs do demos for our customers. Sales for pots and pans and knifes and whatnots have skyrocketed since they started. Now, it’s going to be the center of the baking competition.”
“You’re filming the…contest?” Her words squeaked out. She didn’t do lights, camera, and action at all. Tried it. Failed. Epically. Her cheeks burned with her last attempt of just taping her baking a new recipe. She’d stuttered. And blanked out. Dead silence ensued. So much for making a YouTube video ever again!
“Oh, yeah! I can’t wait! Here’s what I wanted to show you.” He stopped at five large gold wire drums, tipped on their sides and filled with envelopes. “Man, can you believe it?! All these just for a baking contest. And there’s more coming from downstairs.”
The enormity of what she was up against slammed into Gretchen like a fist in her middle. Or was that Lola’s foot?
“Ah, you look kinda, sorta green. You okay?”
“Sure.” She attempted a tight smile. That muscle in her cheek quivered again. “Thanks. For showing me.” She took a step backward, and then another one.
His frown said it all. “Where are you going? I thought you were here to sign up.” He checked his watch. “There’s only fifteen minutes left.”
“Nah.” She gulped hard, trying to wash out the bitter taste in her mouth. Her dream of saving her bakery crashed. And the one where she created exquisite wedding cakes for King’s and their Charming Wedding Boutique went up in flames.
“Aren’t you even going to try?”
“Not good enough,” she choked out as she gazed at the thousands of cards and envelopes crammed in the drums. A noise of rolling wheels from behind her made her stop and turn. There were three huge carts piled with mail bags and totes coming her way.
Danny’s brother Max led the way. “Hey, you! Gretchen!” He greeted her like an old friend, giving her a high five. “The allure couldn’t keep you away, right? If Danny and I have any say, you’d win hands down just for your cinnamon rolls.”
“Forget it, Max. She’s backing out.” Danny’s voice held a well of sadness.
“What? That’s insane. Why?”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, guys.”
“But?” Max scrutinized her face. “You’re afraid? Come on. You? Heck, you run a business—you’re playing substitute mama to this little cutie.” He rubbed a finger along Lola’s cheek and she squealed in delight. “And you take care of everyone who walks in your bakery. Ah, you think I don’t notice. Me, Max, I’m in security.”
“I…” A lump stuck in her throat, one she couldn’t swallow away.
Max looked at Danny and then tilted his head toward a nearby table. “Help her fill out the application, Danny boy, while I get these loaded up with my buddies here.”
The two men were already hard at work, lifting and dumping the piles of mail in the drums.
“Sure thing, Max.” He gently, but firmly, grasped her elbow and swung her around in the right direction.
Closing her shop doors and losing the trickle of business she did have to get over here? What was she thinking? “But…I can’t.”
“Who says?” Danny challenged, tugging her along. “Look at me. Lots of folks—teachers especially— had me pegged for a nobody. My mom and my brothers wouldn’t let me wallow in what other people said. Down syndrome doesn’t stop me from being me. Not going to let it.”
Gretch knew Danny was different. She’d never asked him or Max about it, never really cared. The sweet guy told her jokes, making her laugh in spite of her troubles, and gave great advice on organizing her shop. She’d taken it and made a cozy little corner with cute cubes for shelves to sell her Just Desserts T-shirts, mugs, hats, and a few other items. Some days those sold better than her treats.
She sunk down on the chair, if only to take a break from the baby attached to her chest.
Danny slapped a blank application on the table in front of her. He grabbed a pencil from the holder. “Here. Write. Fast.”
Looking over, she noted several people walking their way. The woman with the clipboard strode ahead and held a stopwatch.
“Countdown time. Peg won’
t let it go a second longer.”
Her hand shook as she grabbed the sharpened, yellow pencil. Just then, Lola burped. Applesauce dribbled out of her tiny lips. A sneeze followed, splattering the warm goo all over Gretchen.
She groaned in despair as it slid down her neck. How was she going to clean up the baby and fill out the application in time? Gretch tugged out the little towel from a zippered compartment and began to wipe Lola’s smiling face.
What’s the use, anyway? She’d need to beat out all those others to get to the prize. Her place was working hard; she’d done that her whole entire life to get away from her nasty stepmother and then her stepmother’s nastier aunt, who she and her brother had been shipped off to as kids.
Just the thought of the woman made her shiver in disgust. Looking down at Lola, messy and beautiful at the same time, her heart melted. This little baby counted on her. She couldn’t let Lola down. Now, she vowed she’d give her a better life.
“Danny, how fast can you write?”
***
With just minutes to spare, Danny, having taken dictation on each question, swirled the paper around and shoved the pencil at her. “Sign.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the cluster of people she’d all but ignored as her heart raced and she sucked in air, hearing the tick-tock of the clock in her ear.
From the time she’d arrived, she grew more aware of several men and women rushing up the escalator and dropping off their submission. Blood whooshed in her ears.
“Now!”
“Huh?” Looking up into his strained features, she came to. She hesitated. “Can I really do this?”
“Fifteen seconds!” the woman cried out.
Waving the pencil in front of her face, Danny said, “Don’t doubt. Do!”
His fierceness shook her. Determination rushed over and through her. Grabbing it from his hand, she scribbled her signature, slapped down the pencil, and then jumped to her feet.
Baking From The Hart Page 2