“I thought he was going to kiss me again.”
Charlotte’s face lit up. “And?”
“And I ended the evening right there, before ... before we both lost our resolve.”
Charlotte’s excited expression fell. “Why?”
“Why? Charlotte, we’d agree there was no future in it. And we were right.”
“So why the moonlit stroll on the sand? Seems to be tempting fate, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t know. He’d never gotten sand between his toes and we were laughing and ... it just sort of made sense at the time. But we kept it civil, friendly. For the first time since he came down here I was enjoying being with him. So, I thought—stupidly thought—maybe I could just go with the flow. Accept the fact that the show was going to happen, accept the fact that doing the show meant spending more time with Baxter. Accept that he’s going to leave in a few weeks when it’s all over no matter what ... and put my big girl pastry chef panties on and just try to enjoy the time I get.”
Charlotte studied her with a considering eye. “How is that working out for you?”
“We haven’t even started filming yet and already I’m a bread murderer, that’s how.” Just like that, her eyes welled up and her mouth went all wobbly. “And I love bread.”
“Oh, dear.” Charlotte put her wine down and pulled Lani into a tight hug.
“This is so stupid,” Lani whispered. “I’m so stupid. Why can’t I just deal with it?”
Charlotte untangled their arms, steadied Lani’s wineglass in her hand, then looked her straight in the eye. “Because you love him, you idiot.”
Lani sniffled and nodded. “I know. I sort of figured that out last night.”
Charlotte picked up her glass again. “About time.”
Lani squinted one eye at her best friend. “Hey.”
Charlotte shrugged, completely unrepentant. “All this time, I was supportive. Like a good friend, I didn’t say anything. I let you find your own way to the truth. But anyone with eyes to look and ears to listen could see this.” She nudged Lani’s glass up and Lani obediently took a small sip.
“When you left for good, I thought, well, no point in saying it now. You’ve ended it. You’ll move on and so will he. Then I find out he’s moving his entire show to your island, and I thought, she’d better not screw this up.”
Lani’s mouth fell open, then snapped shut. “Screw this up?”
Charlotte nodded, her chin set.
“Is that why you’re here? To make sure I don’t screw things up?” Lani’s eyes narrowed. “Was there really a kitchen fire?”
“Yes.”
“Really?” Lani prodded.
Charlotte suddenly studied the wine in her glass. “It was a small grease fire. And we do have to wait for HD to clear us. Should take maybe a day, three at most. I got someone to cover the rest for me. Franco can manage.” Stronger now that she’d made her little admission, she finished with another defiant lift of the shoulder. “Clearly, you needed me.”
“Well, I’m not going to lie and say I’m not thrilled, relieved, and ecstatic that you’re here.” Lani took another sip, enjoyed it all the way down, then looked at Charlotte. “So ... how am I screwing this up?”
“By not giving him a chance. You want him, you love him, but didn’t think he’d even noticed you that way. Now he comes here and tells you he can’t forget you and wants you in his life. He kisses you, lays claim to you, right there in the front of your shop, for the world to see, and what do you do?” Charlotte was working up a good head of steam, and she downed the rest of her wine and smacked her glass on the counter with enough force that Lani was surprised the stemware didn’t snap in half. “You reject him! Of course I had to come.”
“What choice do I have?” Lani demanded. “He’s leaving in two weeks. My life is here.”
“And this is the life you would choose over a life with the man you love? I know your father is here, but you say he’s disappointed in your choices, too. You can still have your own shop, Lan. It doesn’t have to be here.”
“I know. With a few more evenings like the last one, I probably would have started to reconsider. But Char, it’s not that simple. Yes, he wants me, but he doesn’t have a life to offer me, even if I was willing to try. He said as much last night. He told me that he hadn’t really thought it through, but now he has. He said he shouldn’t have come down here. That it would never have worked.”
Charlotte was all geared up to deliver some other strident piece of commentary, but that made her pause. She opened her mouth, then paused again. “Oh,” she said finally, then grabbed her glass and filled it again as she pondered this new piece of information. “You said he almost kissed you.”
“I said I thought he wanted to. For a moment. Maybe it was wishful thinking. But it doesn’t matter.”
“What, exactly, did he say?” Charlotte took a sip of wine, then pointed her glass at Lani. “Leave nothing out.”
Lani took a fortifying sip of her own. “He said that he is going to be on the road filming this show for the next few months, but that even when he goes home again, he really doesn’t have a home life. His work is his life. He knows how much running my own place means to me. He still has Gateau. Even with everything else he has going on, he doesn’t want to give that up. He, of all people, understands that proprietary sense of pride and accomplishment. Granted, our goals with our respective shops are worlds apart, and he has others running his place now, but it’s still his, and the desire is the same. Just like his schedule is crazy and demanding, mine would be too, running my own shop, especially just starting out. Even if I was willing to move north, start over, what kind of life would we have? He’s running one direction, I’m running another; we’d be lucky if we passed each other in the hallway occasionally.”
“It would probably be a much bigger hallway. And a better home kitchen,” Charlotte offered, though will little real enthusiasm.
Lani sighed. “I know. In a fully renovated brownstone. In the Village.”
Charlotte shifted so she was leaning her back on the counter, too, elbow to elbow with Lani. They both sipped.
“You’d have to live with a boy, though,” Charlotte said. “All the time.”
“Yeah,” Lani agreed. “With all his boy stuff lying around everywhere.”
“And boy smells.”
They both wrinkled their noses.
“But, there would be regular boy sex,” Lani said.
Charlotte sighed. “That is true.”
“I’m pretty sure it would be really great boy sex.”
“Almost makes it worth the smelly parts.”
“Doesn’t it?” Lani finished off the second glass, then turned her head to look at her best friend. “I’m pretty sure Baxter has sweet parts,” she whispered, then snickered.
Charlotte did, too. Then both of them were giggling uncontrollably.
“We might have had a little too much wine,” Lani said.
Charlotte held up two fingers. “Just two glasses.”
Lani held up her glass. “Really big glasses. Really quick.”
The oven timer went off, making them leap away from the counter with a squeal, which sent them into another peal of snickering laughter.
“We, on the other hand,” Charlotte said as she pulled out the perfectly risen, perfectly browned loaf of savory harvest bread. “We only have good smells.”
“Delicious smells,” Lani agreed, breathing in deeply.
“Heavenly harvest smells,” Charlotte agreed. “But I think perhaps we should switch to tea while we enjoy a slice. I’ll brew, you get the herb butter.” She looked at the oven clock. “Bobby Flay comes on in ten minutes.”
“Bobby Flay,” Lani said with reverence. “I wonder if he’s smelly.”
“I don’t know.” Charlotte snorted. “But I’d smell Bobby Flay firsthand and let you know.”
That sent them off all over again.
“I’ll get the plates,” Lani said, hi
ccupping for air. “Last one to the couch is a smelly boy!”
Their mad dash was abruptly cut short when the front doorbell rang.
“I think you have company,” Charlotte said.
“I didn’t even know I had a doorbell,” Lani said. “I’ll get it. You finish the tea.”
“Careful,” Charlotte called out. “It might be a smelly boy.”
Lani snickered, and thought they really should have more wine with all future bitch-and-bakes. “Welcome to Bake Club,” she announced as she flung the door open. She knew she was punchy from fatigue and half looped from the wine, but she just didn’t give a damn. “No smelly boys allowed.”
“Oh. Dear.”
Lani had been looking up, half expecting it to be Baxter. Not because he was due to drop by, but because he always seemed to choose the most inopportune times to show up. She dropped her gaze lower, then lower still. “Alva?”
“Why yes, dear. Have I caught you at a bad time? Oh my, something smells heavenly.”
Somehow Lani was backing up and inviting her in before she quite knew what was happening.
“Well, hello again,” Alva said to Charlotte. “I’m sorry, dear, but I’ve forgotten your name.”
“I’m Charlotte. Can I get you a glass of wine?”
Lani made a neck-cutting motion behind Alva’s back, but Charlotte was already turning away to get another piece of stemware from the cupboard.
“What have you made that smells so wonderful?”
“Harvest bread, with savory butter,” offered Charlotte, who’d suddenly become the hostess with the mostest. “We were just about to cut ourselves a slice or two. Would you care for a piece?” She turned away from the cupboard and picked up her own wineglass.
Bobby Flay, Lani mouthed to Charlotte when she caught her eye, but Charlotte merely waved her glass and smiled. Apparently when Charlotte felt good, everybody was going to feel good.
“Oh, my, well, if it’s no imposition.” Alva’s eyes were on full-Alva-twinkle. “I’d love to give it a try.”
Even sober, Lani had to admit it was hard to resist Alva on full-twinkle. “I’ll get another plate.”
“And a glass, too, dear,” Alva added sweetly. “I’d love a sip of wine. If there’s any left.”
Lani’s eyes narrowed behind Alva’s back, but Charlotte swiftly moved in, slicing the bread and handing the plates to Alva to put around the small dinette table.
When they were all settled, sipping and snacking, Alva said, “This is delicious. Any chance I can beg the recipe? I haven’t baked bread in ages, but this is such a perfect thing for when the weather cools.”
“Which will be soon, I hope,” Lani added, pushing her wineglass away. She’d stick with the solid carbs for a while.
“Well, Miss Lani May, dear, I was out for a drive—bit of insomnia, don’t you know—and saw your lights on. I thought I’d just say thank you for those wonderfully addictive little cakes you made for the tournament last night.”
“You’re very welcome. I assume they went over well?”
“Between the lava flow of chocolate and the fountain of sangria, it was a rather ... lively evening.”
Lani couldn’t help smiling. “So, did Beryl regain her title?”
“Yes, though it didn’t exactly happen as planned. She more or less earned it back by default.”
“Did some of the other players ... overindulge?” Lani asked.
“Yes, but it was the fight that broke out, resulting in the local constabulary being called in, that ended the tournament rather prematurely for a few of the players.”
Lani blamed her inability to contain her snicker on the wine. “Um, did that happen before or after midnight?”
“Oh, that was well after,” Alva said. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” Lani hoped Dre had taken the right line on the bet. “I didn’t hear anything about it from my father, but he wouldn’t have been on duty that late and I’ve been in the shop all day, out of touch. I hope it all worked itself out okay.”
Alva’s smile was quite self-satisfied. “Let’s just say that my first column will start off my new career with a bang.”
Charlotte hid her snicker by taking another quick nibble of bread. The whistle on the tea kettle went off just then and she scooted her chair back. “Let me get that. Tea?”
“Oh, I’m fine with my wine, dear,” Alva said.
“I’ll take a cup,” Lani said.
“I went by the shop first,” Alva continued, after Charlotte stepped into the kitchen and made the shrill whistling stop. “I thought perhaps you’d be having another late night bake session.” She sighed somewhat wistfully. “I’ve really enjoyed our little impromptu sessions.”
That earned Lani a quick arched brow from Charlotte as she stepped back in carrying a tray with the teapot, cups, and saucers.
Lani lifted one shoulder in a half shrug as if to say I didn’t plan it but Alva went on, saving her from further explanation.
“I hardly recognized the place. Trucks everywhere, people all over.” Alva set her glass down and clasped her hands as she leaned forward a bit in her seat. “Is it as exciting as it looks?”
Charlotte looked pointedly at Lani as she poured the tea, but her tone was sugary sweet. Like corn syrup. “Yes, Lan, tell us how exciting it is.”
“It’s a bit overwhelming to me right now,” Lani told her. “A lot to learn. It was mostly a day of logistics, getting everything set up so the shoot goes as smoothly as possible.”
“The shoot,” Alva echoed. “Sounds so glamorous. You must be excited about being on camera. Just imagine, your shop will be famous! All that, and you get to cook with Chef Hot C—er, Chef Dunne.” Her smile went twinkly again. “We’re having dinner, you know. A late dinner.”
“Yes, I heard,” Lani said. “Thursday.”
“We changed it to Friday, something about the shooting schedule changing.”
Lani hoped that meant production would wrap up at a decent hour that day. She’d already been warned to expect some very long days, ten to twelve hours being more the norm than the exception. She couldn’t really complain—though she likely would at least whine a little to Charlotte—as the compensation package they’d offered in trade for essentially shutting her shop down for several weeks, was pretty ... well, sweet.
In fact, she’d had to look at that page of the contract twice to make sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her. She didn’t know how much money they thought she’d normally have netted over that period of time, but their offer had been more than a little generous. Add in the commercial exposure of having her little shop on television and whatever new revenue that would send in her direction, there was no way the ordeal could be considered as anything but a big check in the win column.
That was if she didn’t count the chunk of her heart Baxter would be carting off with him.
“Have you decided on a dinner menu?” Lani asked Alva, hoping to advance the conversation past the show talk.
Before Alva could respond, however, the doorbell chimed. Again. Lani glanced at the clock. It was after eleven.
Alva clasped her hands together. “Gee, I wonder who that might be?” It was clear who she was hoping it would be.
“I can get it,” Charlotte offered, but Lani was already on her feet.
“That’s okay. Alva, why don’t you tell Charlotte your dinner menu for Baxter. She’s a pretty good regular chef, too. I’m sure she’d love to give you some guidance.”
Charlotte shot her a leveling look, but Lani merely smiled. Her smile faded as she turned toward the door leading out of the kitchen. She really wasn’t ready for more Baxter, even with the addition of the guest panel currently parked in her kitchen. “Hello?” she said, leaving the door shut. It was, after all, late at night. Though the door wasn’t locked, she wanted him to at least acknowledge the hour.
“Chef? It’s Dre.”
“Dre?” Lani repeated, then tugged open the door to find her you
ng employee standing on her cottage porch. Apron in hand. Concerned, she said, “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. I mean, yes, Chef. Fine. I’m sorry to be coming so late, but I went by the shop first and it was locked up tight and dark.”
“Well, it is a little on the late side.”
“I know, but it said recipe testing on the show schedule and Bernard had said how the first few days they’d almost be there around the clock, so I figured that’s where I was supposed to go.”
“Go for what?”
Dre’s expression shifted, and she look worried. “For recipe testing. When I faxed my class schedule to you, you said to show up whenever possible. I got done with my lab about an hour ago. I knew it was late, but from the schedule, I figured testing would be going on till the wee hours, so I thought I’d come help out. When the shop was closed down, I thought I’d at least swing by here. I—I wasn’t sure where else to go. There are cars here and the lights are on so ... I thought maybe I misunderstood and we are testing stuff here.”
Charlotte’s rental and Alva’s car, along with her own, were parked in the drive in front of the house. With the house ablaze with light, Lani supposed it did look like something was going on. “I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about, but since you’re here, why don’t you come on in?”
A burst of chatter came from the kitchen just then, and an embarrassed Dre shifted her weight, but didn’t step inside. “No, that’s okay. I shouldn’t have stopped by so late. Sorry I interrupted, I must have read the chart wrong.”
Lani frowned. “What chart?”
Dre frowned right back at her. “Bernard sent out charts detailing the production schedule for the rest of the week. I assumed you gave him my e-mail, but—Listen, no problem. I have an early class tomorrow anyway. I can be back over the bridge by seven tomorrow night. I’ll—I’ll see you then.”
She backed up a step, but Lani said, “Wait. When did you get this chart?”
“About four this afternoon. Don’t—didn’t you get one?”
Lani supposed she should have been embarrassed, looking like an idiot in front of her only employee, but the annoyance she was feeling at that moment outweighed everything else. “Obviously there was a glitch somewhere, but no, I didn’t. You don’t happen to have a copy, do you?”
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