“What about Hatcher?”
“He’s a big boy and will show back up when he’s not ready to kill you. Which flavor did you smash?”
“One of the orange ones. Why?”
“Do you think you could take a brownie or triple dip and smash in mine? That way I can do a quick lick and then clean my face?”
“You are impossible and have a death wish, don’t you?”
“No, it just sucks to be around it all day and I can’t have it. Picture you and sex, they sit you in the middle of the room and you have to watch. No touching, no taking part, nothing. You’d want someone to smack you with something before it’s all over.”
“True, but I wouldn’t die from it. You, on the other hand, could. I can see it now. Morgan Lewis, owner of The Polka Dot Café & Bakery, death by chocolate. She was a great friend, but the chocolate did her in. May she moan in peace.”
“That’s funny, you know that right, and wrong on so many levels.”
“I know, but you laughed, and since we’re avoiding the prick conversation, I’d rather make you laugh.”
“I’ll fill you all in tonight at dinner. No sense in me repeating myself,” I say as I pull the apron over my head.
“Okay, once things slow down up here, do you need help with the orders today?”
“No, I think I can handle it. Oh, we need to finish the Christmas decorations out front and put together more boxes.”
“I’ll handle that and keep an eye on the front. Oh, I forgot to tell you, Frankie said her cousin needs a part-time job. We could use the help you know.”
“Yeah, she mentioned something to me, and I plan to speak with her soon. I know we need another person, especially since Hatcher needs to go do his thing.”
“Hatcher needs to get with it. I think deep down he enjoys this place.”
“No, deep down he hates this place. It’s different, and since we were friends before this place took off, I think he only helps because he hates the way I do accounting.”
“True, hell, now I know I’ll get my paycheck with him handling it. Before, you had no idea what day was what.”
“Ha…I only messed it up that once. Are you ever going to let that go?”
“Never … Oh, I forgot to tell you, the poetry group I belong to would like to know if they can hang here permanently?”
“I don’t see why not. I’ll let you handle that; I’m out of it. Don’t think you’re going to pull me into that stuff either.”
“Never, only if you want.”
“I don’t. Now I have a cake to decorate before my first appointment.”
“I’ll come get you when they arrive,” she says as I walk into my kitchen and look around. This really is my safe haven. I can create masterpieces back here; play with all the dough, flour, and sugar I want. This is my life. I wasn’t born to do anything else, but bake.
Before I can make it through the double doors, I hear the sound of my mother’s voice from behind me. It makes all the hair on the back of my neck stand up, as I’m not prepared for this meeting today. I know she said she would come by, but I was hoping that her bridge club or tennis club had a meeting that she’d need to attend. Lucky for me this seems to not be the case. I pivot on the balls of my feet and smile as I greet her. “Mother, it’s so great to see you,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Morgan, dear, come give your mom a hug. And Zara, will you bring me a sparkling water?” she asks, and I give Zara an apologetic smile as I round the counter and approach her with gentle gloves. In all reality, she doesn’t want me to touch her with my caked apron, but she’ll fake a good front for the other patrons in the place.
“Mom, we need to make this quick. I’ve got work to do.”
“You will sit down and give me the time that I need, young lady. I mean, I did come all the way down here to see you.”
Just as she finishes, Zara places down a bottle of water and hands me a coffee to make it through this meeting.
“Thanks, Zara. Now, let’s break the ice, Mom. Tell me what you are really here for?”
“Morgan, I feel that you need to speak with Simon, and you two can work past this. It was a slip, and he feels awful about it.”
“Hold on, have you been in contact with him? I mean, you do realize that I’m your daughter, and he is the cheating ass that doesn’t know how to keep it locked up.”
“Dear, he’s sorry. Can’t you forgive him, and then move past this? We have a wedding to finish planning. You can’t just buy a wedding dress and not wear it.”
“Certainly can, and I will. The wedding is off, Mother, and I don’t foresee ever going back to him. Do you know he wanted me to sell the bakery and become a housewife?”
“Of course, it would be expected of you. How is this news to you? Did you not know what you were marrying into? Morgan, none of the Kensington women work. They attend fundraisers, form clubs, and attend services for the community. That is what you will be doing.”
“No, I’ll not be attending any drinking fest where the women sit around and chit chat about the other wives and stab people in the back. I’m not changing myself any more than what I have for him. I can’t help it that I don’t fit his perfect mold, and he sure as hell hasn’t fit the bill for me either. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do and you know the way out,” I say as I stand and let out the air that I was holding. I’m livid with how she could expect me to become this person that she knows I despise. Just because this lifestyle was handed to her from my father’s family doesn’t mean I want it. I stood by year after year observing how it all works, and it’s not for me.
I look at Zara and say, “You know where I’ll be,” as I enter my safe zone. I need to beat some dough and work through it. I know deep down she wants me happy, but Simon Kensington isn’t what makes me happy anymore. He’s the one that causes tears to threaten my eyes and anxiety over what the future would’ve been like. Things happen for a reason, and this one couldn’t have happened at a better time.
THE SPEAKERS ARE BLARING my jam as I frost the second layer of yellow cake. This is what I love: the music flowing, the aroma of sugar in the air, my inner artist out for a quick round of play. The order calls for a two-layer, yellow cake mix with a festive décor. Sometimes they never fully explain what they want; it’s Christmastime, and I feel like being creative. The layers are covered in a pale gold, and I’ve pulled down all the tools to create tiny poinsettias. A giant one lay in the middle, and the smaller ones will cascade down the side creating a vine effect. To top it off, I’ll add a border around the bottom to cover the cardboard.
“Morgan, your first appointment is here,” Zara says as she tucks her head through the door.
“I’ll be right out,” I say. I place the last poinsettia along the side of the cake and step back to admire my work. Just a few little touches left to be done. Once I’m finished with my consultation, I’ll wrap this up.
I search for a clean towel to wipe my hands on and head out front to see what’s in store for my next order.
When I approach the table and get a good look at the person waiting, I realize it’s the mayor’s daughter. My shoulders slump forward. This is going to be a chore. Higher society are always the ones that have this dream of a ten-foot cake and think I can have doves fly out of the top. Yes, this has been a request in the past.
“Hi, I’m Morgan Lewis. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say as I take a seat across from what I assume is the bride-to-be.
“Hi, I’m Scarlet. Thanks for meeting me. I need a cake and fast.”
“I hope I can help. Do you have something in mind?” I ask as I click my pen open, ready to take some notes.
“Yes, elegant and simple. I’m getting married next week, and the bakery that was going to do my cake had some problems. I heard you were the best. Can you help me?”
“Next week you say?” I ask. I have multiple orders coming up, but I can’t turn away the business. Just means I’ll need to pull some later nights.<
br />
“Yes, I’ll pay double for the short notice.”
“That’s not necessary. Now, tell me what you envision for this glorious cake?”
“Okay, so … I want a four-layer lemon with white frosting. The theme is snowflakes, so if you could incorporate that into the mix somehow?
“What are your colors?”
“Red and silver.”
“How about something like this?” I say as I sketch out a quick design of four layers that includes frosted snowflakes made from sugar. I explain that we can frost them to give a silver glow, as I continue to create the other layers. When I glance down, I’m pretty pleased with what I’ve come up with. It’s simple but elegant. Four crisp white layers of fondant and three silver snowflakes will rest against it on the side. I’ll use the icing pearls to place tiny dots on the middle tier. A straight line of dots on the top, and weave a lace pattern on the bottom. The top layer will have a cascade of icing toward the snowflake to create a necklace feel. “Do you have any ribbon?”
“I do, we have extra.”
“To add a little color and class it up some, I could use the same fabric to wrap around the bottom of each layer and place the snowflake on top?”
“Oh, I love that idea, yes. Can you do it?”
“Of course I can. We’ll need a deposit, and then all you have to do is complete this form and let me know where to deliver it.”
“That easy, huh?”
“That easy. I’ll arrive at the reception a few hours early and apply the final touches to the cake once I arrive.”
“Thank you, I really appreciate you coming in to save the day. I wasn’t sure what else to do.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” I say as I stand and extend my hand to shake hers.
“I’ll definitely be sending my friends and family here. It’s such a cute little place,” she responds as she shakes my hand then looks back down to complete the order form.
“Once you’re done, just hand that to Zara behind the counter. And congrats.”
I round the bar, explain to Zara that she’s completing the order form, and head back to the kitchen to finish the cake I was working on. It’s then that I have the grand idea of a new themed cupcake. A smile extracts from my face, and I know exactly what I want to work on next. The only problem is the girls will not allow me to bail out of dinner tonight. This might have to wait until tomorrow. Or when I skip out, I can return to my kitchen and get started this evening. That, to me, sounds like a better option.
An hour passes by and I step back from the cake. I spin it around and admire all sides as I make sure everything seems to be perfect. I’m pretty pleased with the way it came out and set off to search for a box to place it in. Satisfied that this will secure it long enough to make it to the studio, I slap a sticker on top and tape the ticket to the front. Carefully I slide my hands under the bottom and walk it out to the front display. After a quick motion to Zara, she quickly comes to my rescue and opens the glass so I can slide it down in its holding spot.
“I didn’t get to see it,” Zara says.
“You can take a peek when they come to pick it up in about thirty minutes.”
“Fine. Oh, I didn’t want to break your concentration, but Hatcher is back and in your office.”
“Did you kiss and make up?”
“No, not really but that’s the fun part.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever understand you two, and I certainly am not going to try.”
“Good, ’cause I don’t get it either, but it’s fun. You know you should try it.”
“I think I’ll pass for now, you know, flashing lights above my head screaming she just got dumped.”
“I still can’t believe it. I mean, Simon was an asshole, but we all thought he loved you.”
“No, I think it was he liked the idea of having someone be Betty Crocker, you know, a Suzie Homemaker.”
“Maybe, I don’t know. Just don’t worry, you will find someone. It could be the next person that walks in here, or the waiter tonight at the restaurant.”
“That’s wrong on so many levels. I’m just going to focus on this place for now and see what happens,” I say just as the bell above the door chimes. I glance in that direction and notice it’s the cute Jayden waltzing up to the counter.
“Hi … Let me guess, you couldn’t get enough of my treats and were having withdrawls?” I say with the biggest smile on my face, until it dawns on me how that sounded.
“Hi, and yes I was, but they sent me to get the cake for our party.”
“Oh … Okay … Well let me get it for you,” I say, and as I turn around, Zara is already placing it on the counter and opening it up to show it off.
“Check this out dude, isn’t our Morgan amazing?” Zara asks, causing me to shake my head and watch the expression on Jayden’s face at the same time.
“I’d have to agree with you. This is beautiful, much better than what I'm used to for a company Christmas party.”
“Thanks … The studio has me on speed dial, just so you know.” I shrug.
“That’s good to know. I’ve noticed you are pretty famous around the place. They were talking the other day about how you needed to be open twenty-four hours.”
Zara pipes up, “She’d never sleep then. It’s crazy enough how she’s always here. We still don’t know how she ever dated Simon. Guess we’re lucky now that we get her all to ourselves again.” And just as she finishes, she realizes what she just said, offering me the I’m a terrible friend and I’m sorry smile. All I can do is offer a smile back, because she’s right. When I divert my eyes back at Jayden, he’s rubbing his forehead in confusion.
“Well, please send my apologies to the sugar junkies I’ve created.”
“Will do … I have a question, most bakeries only serve treats and cakes, but you have bagels, coffee, and other stuff. Why?”
“Simple, my customers had requested it, so I made sure I could accommodate them. It’s not much, since I don’t enjoy making them, but I’m glad I could help them out.”
“One of the producers says you make the best blueberry bagels in town. I’ll have to try them when you offer them again.”
I know exactly who he is referring to and I laugh. “Yes, you might need to beat her to them, since I only make the batches at once in the first part of the week. They go quickly. I’m pretty sure each one we sell is for her.”
“I think you’re right. Well, thanks for the cake. I need to head back. You know, new guy learning the ropes and all.”
“Welcome, and don’t drop it, or you might have a war on your hands.”
“Oh trust me, I was sent with strict instructions. I’ve got this.”
“Roger that, have fun,” I say as I watch his back exit the shop. Just when I start to daydream, Zara bumps me in the shoulder.
“What about him? He seems to be smitten with our baker,” she says, raising her eyebrows up and down at me. Just then, Hatcher walks out from the back.
“Ladies, I’ve finished up for the day, so I’ll just head out now. Oh, Morgan, sorry to hear about you and Simon.”
“Thanks, Hatcher. Hope you have a great night,” I say, and it earns me a nod. Hatcher does a once-over at Zara, who is smiling an evil smile at him. He shakes it off and walks right out the front door.
“What’s going on between you two? I know I’ve been wrapped up in the world known as Simon, but come on.”
“Nothing is going on. I like him, and I drive him crazy. It’s fun and that’s all.”
“Yeah, okay, we will see about all that. All right, I’m going to clean up the back and then we can get ready to go have dinner.”
“Sounds good, boss lady. I’m so happy we close early today.”
“You and me both,” I say under my breath as I walk into the kitchen to get things cleaned up for my late night project. This is what makes me happy. I can crank the music up to whatever I want to listen to, and create. I’ve even been known to have a flour war with mys
elf. Come on, when you are in the mood to dance, bake, and you have a full bag of flour in your hands, it’s liable to go up in the air. Yes, I admit it’s a bitch to clean up when you’re done, but in the end, it’s worth every inch of white-flour-covered floors.
ZARA AND I ARRIVE at the local tapas restaurant that Natasha has been screaming about for months. When we enter, we realize we’re the first two to arrive, which is surprising, as usually we’re always late.
“Have you heard from them?” I ask.
“Frankie said she’d be late; she had a photo shoot run past time. I have no idea where Tasha is.”
“Let’s just grab a table and we can order drinks while we wait.”
“Let’s do this,” Zara says as she rubs her hands together, gesturing that she’s ready for a few rounds.
The hostess ushers us to the back booth, and Zara and I slide in so we are facing outwards. It’s our thing, as we love to people watch. We do this in our downtime at the bakery. My eyes gravitate toward the bar to scope out the possible guys that Frankie and Natasha will feel the need to flirt with.
“Welcome to Tapas on Fifth. I’ll be your waitress tonight. Can I get you some drinks to start you off with?” the young blonde asks as she places menus down in front of us.
“I’ll have a sangria,” I say and scan over at Zara, who is studying the menu and finally settles on a Dark & Stormy. Instantly my nose turns up at the sound of it. “What’s in that?”
“It’s good … Goslings Black Rum, lime juice, and ginger beer.”
“Doesn’t sound like it, ginger beer,” I say, turning my nose up at the sound of it. Just then we see Frankie walk in and wave to her.
“Sorry I’m late, but you know how people are. They are just never happy with their shots. I mean, I can only do so much. Ugh … Have we ordered yet?”
“Just did the drink order. Have you heard from Natasha?”
“No, I figured she would be here already.”
“I’ll text her,” I say, reaching into my purse to grab my phone. She has already texted us.
Frosted Sweets (A Taste of Love Series Book 1) Page 4