Daryl flashed a grin that made her rudeness easy to forgive. ‘I need to discipline a couple of members of staff later. I’ve been trying out some of the scathing comments I plan to use. Did you think that one was too harsh?’
‘Way too harsh,’ Trudy said. ‘Way too scathing. Can’t you just give them a warning and say, “Don’t do it again”?’
Daryl shook her head. ‘You’d be hopeless dealing with staff, wouldn’t you?’
‘I’ve been working on the coffee and pumpkin-pie-spice muffins,’ Trudy confided. It was difficult not to grin as she said the words. ‘I’ve just finished a second batch of them and they taste divine.’ With a flourish, she produced two muffin boxes, each designed to hold a dozen pastries.
From across the shop floor, Charlotte saw the boxes being revealed and gave a terse grin. She finished her phone conversation and stepped smartly over to where Trudy and Daryl were talking. Her lips were pursed in a tight kiss of disapproval and Trudy felt a momentary pang of guilt for leaving so much of the burden of Sweet Temptation on the shoulders of her best friend. Absently, she thrust one of the boxes of muffins towards Daryl.
‘Grab your camera,’ Trudy told Daryl. ‘Take some of your artsy photos of the muffins. We’ll want to get these into production and up on the website as soon as possible.’
Daryl glanced at Charlotte, waited for a nod of approval and then took the box of muffins. She hurried back up the metal staircase with her heels clanging on each step. Watching her go up the steps, Trudy was shocked to see above Daryl’s stocking tops and beneath the hem of her scarlet skirt.
She quickly looked away.
They had used Daryl’s photography for all of the promotional images that were displayed on their website and used in their corporate literature. Daryl was an amateur photographer and, although Trudy knew she would probably be shocked and embarrassed if she ever saw the photographs that Daryl took in her spare time, she thought her eye for a good picture was exactly what Sweet Temptation needed to best promote their products.
Charlotte called for one of the packaging staff to take Daryl’s place on the reception desk. She placed a hand on Trudy’s shoulder and said, ‘Let’s grab a cup of tea in my office.’ She had to raise her voice a little to be heard over the drone of the ovens and the clatter of activity on the factory floor.
Trudy assumed they were going to Charlotte’s office so they could talk business without having to shout. When they stepped into the silver and glass sleekness of Charlotte’s office, Trudy opened the box of muffins and offered one to her friend.
‘They’re perfect,’ Trudy assured her.
‘That’s great,’ said Charlotte, without taking one.
Charlotte switched on the PC on her desk. Whilst it was booting she switched on a kettle and dropped three Earl Grey teabags into a trio of mugs. Her shoulders were stiff. Her frown looked austere. Admittedly, she seemed more confident now than she had done in months. But she didn’t look happy.
‘Is something wrong?’ Trudy asked.
Charlotte didn’t respond.
The PC made the familiar musical sounds that announced it was ready for use. Charlotte signed in and then went back to making the drinks.
She stepped out of the office and shouted for Daryl to join them.
The blonde arrived quickly as though she had been expecting to be summoned. She was eating one of the muffins Trudy had asked her to photograph. Golden crumbs stuck to her lipstick and a couple had tumbled onto the modest swell of her breasts.
‘Are you guys OK?’ Trudy asked.
Daryl nodded. She had just taken a large bite of muffin and pointed at her full lips to silently explain that she couldn’t respond.
‘Is the door closed?’ Charlotte asked Daryl.
Daryl checked and then nodded confirmation.
Charlotte stood over the mugs of tea. She glared at Trudy and asked, ‘What did Donny’s message say?’
‘Which one?’
‘The one you showed me this morning when we were out jogging.’ Charlotte frowned after she’d spoken. Her exasperation seemed to grow briefly more intense. The V above her nose deepened to a small dark crease. She pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘What do you mean, “Which one?” Are you telling me there have been other messages?’
Trudy flashed an apologetic smile. ‘I got another one from him before I got back home this morning.’ She shrugged indifferently and said, ‘It was something about payback and bitches. Donny can sound very macho when he’s threatening people with text messages. But I’m sure it was nothing serious. You know Donny. He’s all talk and no action.’
She waved a dismissive hand, trying to brush the matter off. Giving credence to Donny’s threats was only going to make him think he had won. Discussing them as though they were a serious problem seemed foolish and unnecessary.
‘Try one of these muffins,’ Trudy insisted. ‘Daryl will tell you I’m right. The flavour is perfect this time.’
Still unable to speak Daryl nodded enthusiastic agreement. She raised a thumb to show her approval.
Charlotte finished the drinks she’d been making and placed one mug in front of Trudy and another in front of Daryl. With obvious reluctance, Charlotte took a bite of the muffin she was being offered. She chewed unhappily for a moment before a reluctant smile blossomed across her features. She nodded terse agreement.
‘That’s a lot better than the one you gave me yesterday.’
‘Finlay West helped me perfect the pumpkin-pie spice,’ Trudy explained. ‘Bill insisted I should try a demerara over a turbinado. And, with the use of an Arabica coffee bean, it seems like those factors have forced the transformation.’
Charlotte nodded. ‘It’s good.’
‘It’s better than good,’ Daryl countered. She gasped the words, as though she had swallowed quickly to get them out. ‘It’s truly delicious. Can I have another?’
Trudy stared at her incredulously. ‘Are you going to leave enough for us to photograph some?’
Daryl considered this for a moment. ‘Can I eat an ugly one?’ she suggested. ‘Can you give me one that’s not photogenic?’
‘Give her what she wants,’ Charlotte told Trudy. ‘Give her what she wants and come and have a look at this.’ She had only taken two bites from her muffin. The fact that the pastry, perfect and irresistible, remained unfinished, told Trudy that Charlotte needed to discuss something of the gravest importance. Her voice was solemn and her expression was stern and severe.
Trudy raised an eyebrow. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Your theory that Donny is all talk and no action. I think we can disprove it.’
Charlotte gestured for Trudy to join her behind the desk so she could see the PC screen. It showed the familiar Sweet Temptation logo: a simple line drawing of a muffin in pastel-pink ink on a sky-blue background. It was the same logo that adorned company stationery and all their packaging and marketing material.
Trudy couldn’t see the design without grinning.
‘It’s started,’ Charlotte said darkly. She pointed at the screen.
Trudy frowned and shook her head. ‘What’s started?’ She couldn’t see what was wrong with the design. ‘What do you mean? It looks the same as it’s always looked. What does this have to do with Donny’s threats?’
Charlotte pointed at the top of the screen to show the website address. ‘It looks like our webpage. It looks identical to our webpage. But this is the webpage for a company called Sweeter Than Sweet.’
It took Trudy a moment to work out what she was being told. When the realisation struck it hit her like a slap. ‘This isn’t our website?’
‘No.’
‘But it looks exactly like ours.’
‘I said that,’ Daryl offered.
Trudy opened a link on the page. She squinted to understand the wording. The text was small and her lips moved slowly as she read the words aloud. ‘The world’s finest pastries from the award-winning chef de cuisine of Michelin-starred restaurant Boui-Boui.’
She sat back, momentarily too stunned to say anything. Eventually, when words did come to her, they sounded painfully obvious.
‘They’re talking about me.’
‘I said that,’ Daryl said again.
Trudy ignored her. ‘Who the hell is doing this?’
‘Who do you think?’
‘Donny?’
Charlotte opened a link on the screen and a photograph appeared. It showed Donny embracing his occasional girlfriend, Gemma Hadfield. The pair were dressed in chef’s whites, each wearing ridiculously large toques and grinning cheesily for the camera. Trudy recognised the background behind them. They were in the grounds of the Hadfield, the hotel and conference centre owned by Gemma’s parents.
Trudy glared at the image, furious with her former friend for trying to cause further mayhem. She didn’t know whether Donny was trying to spoil the success of Sweet Temptation or steal some of the glory and the profit for himself.
She clenched a fist and then unclenched it impotently. Deliberately, she stopped herself gritting her teeth.
‘Is he allowed to do this? Isn’t this sort of copying illegal?’
‘I’ve been chatting with someone who knows about the law,’ Charlotte admitted. ‘It’s a grey area. Legally, he’s not allowed to do it. But the reality is more complicated.’
Trudy studied her expectantly.
‘We’re a start-up,’ Charlotte explained. ‘Donny was involved with Sweet Temptation during the inception.’
‘But he’s not part of the business,’ Trudy reminded her.
Charlotte shook her head. ‘You’re preaching to the converted.’
‘Also,’ Daryl broke in, ‘it’s difficult to enforce copyright legislation like this on the internet. He has his website hosted overseas. It’s all frustratingly messy.’
Trudy released a heavy sigh. It sounded as though Charlotte and Daryl had invested a busy morning in trying to find a way to resolve the problems that Donny had raised. If they hadn’t found a solution, she didn’t think the problem would be an easy one to resolve.
‘So, how do we stop him?’
Charlotte blushed and looked away.
Daryl lifted her cup of tea and took a delicate sip. ‘Charlotte did try to sort this out without you,’ she said.
‘I’m sure she did,’ Trudy agreed.
Charlotte was scowling silently. Her glare was fixed upon a corner of the office.
‘We know Donny caused a lot of problems for you and Bill,’ Daryl went on.
‘Yes,’ Trudy admitted. She didn’t like the way the conversation was going. Donny had caused a lot of upset. He’d put Bill in jail and he’d tried to drive Trudy out of Sweet Temptation. She wasn’t sure why Daryl was telling her things she already knew.
‘Charlotte wanted to make sure we’d tried everything possible before –’
‘Daryl,’ Charlotte broke in. ‘I’ll tell her.’
‘Tell me what?’
‘Donny wants to talk with you this afternoon.’
Trudy felt cold. She took a sip from her cup of tea to disguise the sudden rush of nervousness. Considering the acrimonious way they had last parted she didn’t want to face Donny ever again. But she knew that something had to be done. She clenched her teeth and nodded reluctant agreement.
‘OK. Where am I meeting him? Is he coming here?’
‘No,’ Charlotte said. She was still scowling. ‘He wouldn’t agree to that.’
‘This is the part you’re really going to hate,’ Daryl said sympathetically. She reached across Charlotte’s desk and placed a consoling hand on Trudy’s. ‘He wants to meet you in the local burger franchise.’
Chapter 8
Trudy decided to lock herself in her office.
She knew Charlotte and Daryl were both assuming that she needed the time to calm and compose herself. Charlotte was apologising for Donny’s refusal to talk with her. She looked angry and frustrated and full of self-reproach. Repeatedly she muttered, ‘He can’t get away with this. I won’t let him get away with this.’
Daryl seemed equally incensed at Donny’s behaviour. She explained that she had tried to get him to agree to a different choice of venue but Donny had insisted on the fast-food location. Apologising profusely, Daryl promised that she’d slyly spit on Donny’s burger if the chance arose.
Trudy thanked them both for their concern.
She snatched the cup of Earl Grey and retired to the sanctuary of her private office. As soon as she was alone she locked the door.
And only then did she allow herself to sigh with relief.
Trudy’s workspace lacked the sleek lines and modern styling of Charlotte’s office. The furniture was an eclectic mishmash of bits and pieces with disparate histories from various locations. The desk was the old one she’d liberated from her house-share with Charlotte and Donny at Eldorado. It was a large and cumbersome piece of furniture, four drawers on either side and a working surface as large as a pool table. It had taken four burly removal men a sweaty afternoon to wrestle the desk all the way up the stairs of the mezzanine and into her office at Sweet Temptation. But for Trudy it made the room feel like home.
The office chair had been a bargain find in a second-hand-furniture shop. It didn’t look particularly modern, the arms were worn and the seat had needed re-covering. Age made it creak a little whenever she turned or made an unexpected move that surprised its mechanics. But the chair was comfortable and looked surprisingly appropriate with the old-fashioned contours of the desk. Importantly, she found the creaks and groans of the chair were somehow comforting and reassuring.
The laptop that she placed in the centre of the desk was the same one she had carried with her through her years of study at university. It was an ancient Packard Bell, but the software and hardware had been upgraded to the most modern versions the machine’s aged processor could handle. The corners of the laptop were scuffed. The keyboard bore the battle scars of missing keys and had duct tape covering a couple of cracks in the casing. If she was being honest with herself, Trudy was willing to admit that the machine looked like it was nearing the end of its serviceable life. But sentimental affection made her reluctant to get rid of the laptop on a whim. She was quietly determined to continue using it until circumstances forced her to change to something more modern.
She placed her mug of tea on a coaster and settled herself into the comfort of her chair. It squeaked beneath her weight. The room was silent save for the rusted whirring of the mechanics inside the laptop as it slowly booted into life.
Trudy knew there was a lot of work that needed to be done on behalf of Sweet Temptation. There was a weekend’s worth of orders to process and she still needed to catch up on work because of her absence on the previous Thursday and Friday.
But she put those considerations aside for the moment. There were more important matters to occupy her thoughts than a growing backlog of work.
She supposed it would make sense to consult a legal professional and get some advice about the problem with Donny. But, she reasoned, any good legal professional would first advise her to communicate with Donny and find out what he wanted. And, as Donny had already set down the terms of how and when and where he was going to negotiate, she had nothing to do except wait until her lunchtime meeting with him.
Sipping the Earl Grey, savouring the floral notes of bergamot, Trudy knew that she needed to clear her thoughts before coming to any decisions about Donny and his asinine interference in her life. She had suffered enough of his annoying behaviour in the past few months to know that she needed to approach the challenges he presented without the distraction of the anger he always evoked.
Deliberately, she opened a word processor screen on her laptop and rested her fingers over the keys. Harvey she remembered, wanted an article from her and she now knew exactly what she wanted to write about.
She wasn’t going to produce an article about Donny. She wanted him out of her thoughts. He didn’t merit a moment more of her c
onsideration this morning. She certainly wasn’t going to write about the legal complexities of online trading and copyright theft because the subject was more complicated than she could hope to understand. Even if she could understand it sufficiently to write about it, Trudy didn’t think the subject would sound interesting enough to engage any reader.
Instead, Trudy decided she was going to write about something that had always been important to her. She was going to write about the search for a specific flavour. This morning she had the ideal story to illustrate a successful search and she wrote a title for the article.
‘Perfect Pumpkin-Pie Spice.’
Her fingers moved swiftly over the keys. She was three paragraphs into the story, and pleased with the way it was developing, when she stopped to make a call to Finlay West. She supposed it said something about her commitment to flavours that she had the number for Finlay West’s spice shop listed within her phone’s speed-dial contacts. She wondered if anyone else in the world had a spice shop in their top five speed-dial numbers.
A woman’s voice answered.
‘Hi, Imogen,’ Trudy said. ‘It’s Trudy. May I speak to the boss, please?’
‘You shouldn’t call him that. He’ll get a complex.’
‘What should I call him?’ Trudy asked.
‘I have a long list of suggestions,’ Imogen said, giggling. Then there was the sound of her putting the phone to one side and calling for Finlay.
She didn’t waste time on an exchange of pleasantries. She had one simple question. ‘Where did you get the recipe for your pumpkin-pie spice, Finlay?’
‘The one we discussed this morning?’
‘Yeah. I’m writing an article about it and I want to cite the original source.’
‘I don’t have an original source. That’s just the commonest recipe I’ve come across in my years of working with spices.’
While he was talking with her Trudy had been searching online for variations on the pumpkin-pie-spice blend. She saw some echoes of the recipe that she’d been working to, but it seemed the majority of variations followed Finlay’s take on the blend with an excess of cinnamon. Did everyone already know the secret to a good pumpkin-pie spice? She didn’t dare brood on that question, sure it would give her doubts about the usefulness of the article she was writing.
Turning Up the Heat Page 7