by Izzy Bayliss
“I just read your message. Jane is gay?”
Sam sighed. “She’s in a long-term relationship with a woman. She has no interest in me.”
“But why didn’t you tell me that before?” I said angrily. “|You could have saved us a lot of hassle here, Sam!”
“Well, you wouldn’t answer my calls! You switched your phone off!”
“But before that, when you knew I was going out of my mind with worry about what was going on between you and Jane, why didn’t you just put my mind at ease and tell me she was gay?”
“Because part of me is very angry that after all this time together you still don’t trust me. I’ve never given you any reason not to, but all because of that dickhead Marc, I suffer the repercussions! Your trust issues are always causing problems for us, and I thought to myself, why should I have to explain? No matter what I say or do, you believe what you want to believe anyway.”
“That’s unfair, Sam. I heard another woman in your apartment first thing in the morning! What would you think if the situation had been reversed?”
“I hope I would trust you enough not to let the doubts take over.”
“Come on, Sam, all the signs were there! Plus, you know I’ve been hurt before, it’s hard for me . . .”
“I think this distance is driving us both crazy . . .” Sam said resignedly.
I sighed feeling defeated. “This is so hard, Sam.”
“I know but you have to trust me – I am not Marc. If you don’t trust me, then we can’t make it work.”
“That’s what Frankie said -”
“Well, she’s right –”
He paused. “Please trust me, Lily. I promise that I would never do anything to hurt you. My mother raised me to never break a promise – I’m a man of my word.” Suddenly, it hit me. I didn’t have to be angry any more. In fact, I could be very, very happy. Sam and Jane’s relationship was platonic. It felt as though there were a million excited butterflies in my stomach. I couldn’t help smiling.
“Oh, Sam, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for not trusting you. I’m so happy you weren’t having an affair though!”
“I keep telling you I never would, Lily. You’re the only woman I want to be with. I love you and only you.”
I beamed a smile as wide as the Liffey. “I love you too, Sam. Next time I see you I promise I’ll make it up to you!”
“You better!” Sam said, laughing.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Frankie pretending to vomit. “Okay, enough already! Wrap it up, you two!”
CHAPTER 15
The next morning I busied around the café serving cakes and coffees. The heavenly smell of roasted arabica beans, brown sugar, and scones fresh from the oven filled the air. As winter was now pushing out autumn, I had changed the menu; gone were the lighter-than-air lemon meringue pies and fruit-filled tarts in favour of richer-flavoured cakes, full of body and spice.
The bell tinkled and I saw it was Mabel again, but this time she was alone.
“Good morning, Mabel, no Lottie today?” Dad said raising his head from the till as he spotted her coming through the door. He rushed past me to serve her.
“Morning, Hugh. No, her mum is off work today.”
I noticed that she wasn’t her usual spritely self; she was normally so bubbly and full of life, but today it was as though she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.
“So how have you been keeping?” Dad asked.
“Oh, I’ve been better . . .” She began fiddling with the clasp on her handbag.
“I don’t mean to pry,” Dad said gently, “but is everything okay?”
“It’s my husband’s fifteen-year anniversary today. I was just at mass there for him. I can’t believe he’s been gone for that long; it feels like just yesterday that he passed . . . I miss him every day, but some days it hits you harder than others.”
Dad nodded his head knowingly. “Well, it’s been thirty-three years since I lost my Linda so I know exactly what you mean. It never gets any easier, does it?”
She shook her head sadly. “No, Hugh, it certainly doesn’t.”
Dad seldom ever mentioned my mum, so when he did it was like a glimpse into his heart. Even after all this time, he still found it difficult to talk about her. When she had died suddenly of a brain aneurysm all those years ago, a part of him had died too that day.
“Sit down there and I’ll bring you over something nice,” Dad said kindly.
I watched as he made Mabel a pot of tea and carefully chose a slice of my decadent Baileys white chocolate gateau for her. I mentally approved of his selection – everyone knew that chocolate cake had healing powers and the hint of Baileys gave it an extra edge. He brought it over and set the tray down in front of her. I watched as her face broke into a smile. My cake was doing its job once again.
I was in the middle of wiping down a table, and when I looked up, I saw Frankie standing there with a big smile on her face.
“Have you got five?”
I pushed a stray strand of hair back from my forehead. “No, I’m up the walls with customers today.”
Frankie looked over at Mabel - an island, surrounded by a sea of empty tables and looked back at me quizzically.
“Joke,” I said. “Go on into the kitchen and I’ll be with you in a sec.”
“You’ll never guess what?” she chimed as soon as I came through the door.
“What?” I said, placing down my cloth and antibacterial spray.
“Oh, you’re going to love me!” she sang.
“Just tell me, Frankie, jeez!”
“I have just got us two first-class tickets to New York and we leave tomorrow!”
“What?”
“Well, I got asked to style the clothes on a shoot for Siesto make-up, and when I heard it was in New York I chanced my arm and told them I needed an assistant and you’re it!”
“But I can’t – what about this place?”
“It’s only for three days, Lily – two of which you’re not even open! Your Dad will keep things ticking over.”
“But Friday is my busiest day – I can’t – I’m sorry.”
“Come on, Lily, it’s only for one day – you said yourself the place is dead – it won’t fall apart without you. Don’t you want to see Sam? I thought you’d be thrilled!”
“Of course I do, but it’s not that easy –”
“I’m not taking no for answer. Get everything sorted today because you have a busy weekend ahead of you!”
Then she turned and breezed back through the door as calmly as she had entered, leaving me in a fluster. She was crazy. As much as I’d love to, I had a bakery to run. I couldn’t just fly off to New York.
“Excuse me,” Dad said, coming into the kitchen a few minutes later with a pile of crockery and gesturing to where I was standing in front of the dishwasher. I was still in shock from Frankie’s visit. I moved to the side and let him stack it.
“How’s Frankie?” he asked as if reading my mind.
“You won’t believe it –”
“What?” he asked.
“She wants me to go to New York with her. She has a shoot on for the weekend and she’s managed to put me down as her assistant.”
He lifted his head from his task and smiled. “Oh, Lily, that’s fantastic, I hope you said yes?”
“But I can’t just walk out and leave you here to run this place on your own!”
“You can’t turn down the opportunity to visit Sam!”
Whenever I thought about the chance to see him, I felt overwhelmed with longing. How amazing would it be to turn up on his doorstep and surprise him? It would also give us a chance to put the tensions of the last few weeks behind us and get things properly back on track between us again.
“I’ll be fine,” Dad continued. “And I’m sure Clara will step in and give me a hand.”
“Do you think?” Suddenly, a seed of hope opened up inside me. Perhaps if I left everything ready for him and he had
Clara to help, too, they could manage without me for one day?
“You’re going, Lily, and I won’t hear another word against it. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth!”
I protested some more, but Dad quashed my worries and told me that I was going and that was the end of it. I decided to call Clara next to see if she could help Dad out, there was no point in even entertaining the idea if she wasn’t available. I explained everything and although she acted like she was doing me a huge favour, which she was in fairness, I could tell that she was secretly delighted at the chance to get behind the counter of Baked with Love. I suspected she had long been waiting for her opportunity to come and have a nose around. No doubt she saw herself as some sort of consultant brought in to look analytically at every aspect of the business and give a critique on my return. I told myself that even listening to a dressing-down from Clara would be worth it if I got to spend a few days with Sam.
After I hung up from her I felt a bubble of excitement fizz up inside of me and I started to laugh – I was actually going to New York. Tomorrow I would be with Sam!
I was in a tizzy for the rest of the day. My head was spinning thinking of all of the things that I needed to do before I left. I worked late into the evening to get things ready to hand over to Dad. I had lists and then when they began to get out of control, I began to make lists of the lists. Then I had to do a master list to keep all the sub-lists in order. I had them pinned up all over the kitchen wall, with arrows directing Dad and Clara where to find things. I had done as much prep as I could for them; I just hoped it would be enough.
After we had closed the door that evening, Clara called over and I sat her and Dad down and talked them through everything. Clara had her head bent as she scribbled furiously into a notebook trying to keep up with my instructions. I was just talking them through my scone recipe when she lowered her pen and raised her hand to stop me mid-sentence.
“So how many sultanas should I use per scone?” she asked.
I looked at her quizzically wondering if she was joking, but I saw she was deadly serious.
“I don’t know . . . maybe ten?” I replied.
“Well, how many is it exactly?” she said impatiently.
“It doesn’t really matter, Clara.”
“Oh, but it does, Lily. They may look tiny but don’t be deceived! Each sultana costs you money. If you use fewer sultanas per year, you are spending less on your raw materials, and if you spend less on your raw materials, then you improve your bottom line. You really should be keeping an inventory of your ingredients. It’s basic business strategy – you need to start thinking in terms of margin, Lily!” She wagged her pen at me. “It’s no wonder the business is struggling!”
I groaned inwardly. I could visualise her counting out the sultanas individually instead of just whacking a load in like I usually did. Patience, I told myself, patience. It would all be worth it. I could put up with Clara and her mad ways because she was doing me a huge favour. “Good point, Clara, go with eight so.”
She looked satisfied with this as she wrote it down in her notebook. I could see Dad struggling to keep a laugh inside.
“Now, there’s one thing that’s very important to me and I need you both to promise me you won’t interfere . . .”
“What is it?” Dad asked, his forehead creasing with concern.
“You have to swear to me that you won’t mess with my recipes – you have to use real butter,” I said, wagging my pen at both of them. I had visions of people eating my cakes while I was gone and not getting that melt in the mouth taste that I took so much pride in.
Clara reddened and I knew she had already planned to substitute the butter with margarine.
“Don’t worry,” Dad said. “We’ll do everything exactly the way you do it, won’t we, Clara?”
“Fine,” she said, slamming shut her notebook.
“Now you go and have fun with Sam, do you hear me?” Dad warned when I had finished. “We won’t burn the place down.”
* * *
The next morning I sat in a taxi on my way to the airport with nervous excitement coursing around me. I had never been to New York before, and although it was going to be a very brief trip, my head was full of romantic images involving snowflakes and Christmas decorations just like I had seen in movies. I had visions of taking a carriage around Central Park, strolling hand in hand down Fifth Avenue, maybe even a kiss at the top of the Empire State Building. I hadn’t told Sam I was coming. We would be arriving in New York at around lunchtime, so I had planned on rocking up to Sam’s office to surprise him. I felt a tingle run through my body at the thoughts of feeling his warm mouth over mine, running my fingers through his wavy, dark hair, the touch of his hands on my skin again. Butterflies charged around chaotically inside my stomach. I only had a few more hours to wait.
I met Frankie and, after we had checked in, we headed to the first-class lounge. It was mainly full of business travellers wearing smart suits and other fancy people wearing butter-soft leather loafers and carrying designer handbags. I had worn my best clothes so I would look the part, but I still felt like a total imposter. There were fridges running along one wall that were stocked full of wine and champagne that you could just help yourself to, and a woman was walking around offering free shoulder massages. I would have been happy just to stay in the lounge let alone get on the plane. Frankie insisted we get a glass of bubbles to kick-start our trip.
“But I haven’t even had my breakfast yet!” I protested.
“Breakfast, smekfast, we’re going to New York, baby!” she said, handing me a flute and we clinked glasses.
It wasn’t long before we were called to board. For the first time in my life and probably the last, I got to turn left instead of right on a plane. I couldn’t help but squeal when we were shown to our seats.
“Oh my God, this is amazing!” I said, playing with the remote and instantly reclining the seat back into a bed.
“Shhhhh,” Frankie hissed. “Act cool.”
Then we were given a bag of toiletries. “I can’t believe all of this is free!” I gushed as I lifted out a luxury face cream. “How will I ever go back to economy after this?”
The airhostess offered us more free champagne and we were both tipsy before we had even left the tarmac at Dublin Airport.
I slept most of the flight. The champagne coupled with the heavy thrum of the engines had lulled me to sleep. It was only when I felt someone shaking my shoulder that I woke up and saw Frankie’s face above me.
“You were snoring like a trooper,” she whispered. “I had to intervene for the sake of the other passengers. They were starting to complain.”
I noticed a patch of drool on my lovely first-class pillow. I tried to sit myself upright and I pressed the button to retract the seat, but the duvet somehow got tangled in the mechanism and I almost strangled myself.
“Help me, Frankie!” My voice came out muffled under the duvet.
Frankie managed to untangle me from the blanket before convulsing into laughter. When I was free, I sat upright and looked around. The other passengers were glaring at us. I gave them an apologetic smile.
Soon the New York skyline came into view and I was transfixed as I looked out at the city below us. Frankie pointed out the Empire State Building and the gleaming new Freedom Tower, which looked like a sparkling beacon in the horizon. I felt so giddy. This was actually happening, in just a few hours I would be in Sam’s strong arms.
As we made our way out to the taxi queue, the New York cold snap was out in force. A biting wind nipped at our exposed faces, and we were glad when we finally sat on the upholstered leather seat of our car. I gave the driver the address of Sam’s office and as we hit downtown I couldn’t believe the noise and the traffic. There was a constant tooting of horns, it seemed for no reason, and the skyscrapers were so tall that you would have to lie flat on the pavement to see the tops of them. The graceful old buildings were decorated with Christmas swags and garlan
ds, showing off their finery for the holiday season. I could see why people always said that there was nowhere better than a New York Christmas.
“Here you go, Lily,” Frankie said when we eventually came to a stop outside the glazed skyscraper where Sam worked. It was almost two p.m., so I was hoping that after I surprised him he would be able leave the office early. Frankie was going straight to work on the shoot.
“Thanks, Frankie, for all of this,” I said, my heart beating wildly as I started to climb out of the car.
“Go surprise your man, Lily!”
CHAPTER 16
I got out of the taxi and took my case out of the trunk. I stood and craned my neck to look up at the glass skyscraper on the street in front of me. I was completely awestruck by its height. I walked through the revolving door, which lead to a marble-clad foyer. When I had located the lift, I went inside and was greeted with a panel that had more buttons than I had ever seen before. I pressed the button for the seventy-ninth floor where I knew Sam worked and it began its ascent upwards. When the doors parted, I found myself standing outside the plush offices of First Ireland Bank. Mahogany panelling ran along the walls, and thick carpet was underfoot. My heart was hammering and suddenly a wave of panic assailed me. What if Sam was in the middle of something and he might not be able to see me? I took a deep breath and went up to the reception desk.
“Hello, I’m wondering if I could speak to Sam Waters please?”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Um, no, it’s a personal matter.”
“Let me call him and see if he can meet with you, one moment please.”
I listened to the one-sided conversation as the receptionist spoke with someone at the other end.
“I’m sorry but Sam is on a vacation day today, he won’t return to the office until Monday morning,” she said to me as she put down the phone.
It felt as though my heart had thudded right down as far as the lobby I had just came from. “Do you know where he has gone?” I said feeling floored. I hadn’t even entertained the scenario that he might not be here.