“What’s that?”
“If I don’t dig up a date for this dinner party on Saturday night, not only will I be the one who lost her good looks, but I’ll have to deal with Carmella’s awkward attempts to set me up with men she thinks are low enough on the social ladder not to mind my face.”
James winced. “Remind me why you’re going to this.”
“It’s kind of in my honor. Would it be out of line for me to ask one tiny favor?”
James chuckled. He could see the writing on the wall. “You want me to be your date to deflect some of those ‘good intentions’?”
A smile tickled the corners of her lips. “Would you?”
No. The correct answer here was a resounding No. This wasn’t his problem, and going to dinner parties with people who looked down on her, and would only look down on her more once they found out her true financial situation, wasn’t actually helping anyone. But he couldn’t say that.
“Sure.”
“You can always bill my father for the time.” She shot him a grin. “I think he deserves it at this point.”
James shook his head. “No, this one is for you.”
He wanted to protect her, too. He wanted to fend off a few of the blows that were coming.
Pink rose in her cheeks. “I owe you one, James. You’re a lifesaver.”
She didn’t owe him anything. In fact, he felt guilty for not being able to warn her properly about what was coming. He couldn’t. He knew that, but a part of him had stopped being practical when it came to Isabel.
For all her spoiled upbringing and her previous self-centered ways, she didn’t deserve all that was coming to her. In his humble opinion, this was just cruel. He couldn’t fix it, though. He couldn’t change it. He couldn’t warn her. He was simply burdened with the knowledge.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“NOW POUR IT SLOWLY...slowly...slower!” Isabel looked over Jenny’s shoulder as she poured melted chocolate into molds. Jenny’s hands were quite steady for this meticulous work, and Isabel watched closely as Jenny stopped pouring, then moved to the next mold without spilling even a drop around the edges.
“You’re good at this,” Isabel said with a smile.
Jenny looked up, her eyes sparkling. “Really? I’m good?”
“You really are. After this, we’re going to start on some caramels. You’ve got a talent. Just promise to keep my recipes a secret, and I’ll keep teaching you.”
Isabel had called James and asked if Jenny could come and help her today. The internet orders were steadily coming in, and she could no longer keep up with the workload alone. Outside, the construction workers were putting up her sign, and the grind of drills and thump of ladders against the building filtered into the kitchen.
It felt good to have someone to work with. She’d always had so many people around her that she’d believed she had lots of friends. In New York, she’d been introduced to the wealthy circles by her father’s contacts, and she’d lived a life of dinner parties and air kisses. She’d worked a job in marketing that didn’t pay a fantastic amount, but she could have supported herself if she’d needed to, albeit in a humbler fashion. Since her father had insisted upon footing the bill for her condo and car, she’d allowed a little extra so she could be presentable for social gatherings, too. This was good for her career, she’d told herself. These were the people who controlled New York’s money.
Now with her changed circumstances, she didn’t have anyone she could call to help her out in her business venture. New Yorkers would have forgotten her almost immediately since she wasn’t the richest of the rich in the bigger pool. Haggerston friends weren’t people she could really trust—they competed with each other too much to be trustworthy. She didn’t have many real friends at all, she realized.
“Good...good...” Isabel slid a mold away from Jenny and down the counter. “We’ll let that sit so it can harden, but those look just perfect.”
“I won’t throw them at anyone,” Jenny said, her expression deeply serious.
“I believe you,” she said with a chuckle. “Don’t worry about it, Jenny.”
A smile split across Jenny’s face, and Isabel realized belated that the young woman had been joking.
“Oh.” She laughed. “Har, har.” She honestly liked James’s sister. She was good company in the kitchen. “Now, you have to remember to do exactly as I say, exactly when I say it. Some of these recipes depend on the perfect timing. Can you do that?”
Jenny nodded. “Yup.”
“Good. Now, I’ve made some caramel, and we’re going to cut it, roll it and then coat it in chocolate. It takes a steady hand. Let me show you.”
Isabel went to the fridge and pulled out the caramel. Working with the caramel while it was chilled enough to be firm, but not cold enough to be solid, was the most important part of making the perfect sea-salt caramel. When one bit into the chocolate-covered caramel, it needed to be soft enough not to pull out fillings or get stuck on dental work, but still hold its shape.
She took a large knife and cut a piece off the cord of caramel.
“About this big,” she said as she worked. “Then roll it.”
She chopped off another piece and handed it over to Jenny. Jenny watched Isabel’s movements, then slowly began to roll her piece of caramel between her palms.
“Then one little squish in the center to make the right shape, and—” Isabel held up the small oval of caramel. Jenny held up hers.
“Nice!” Isabel was impressed. Jenny was a quick study.
“Now, these are going to be sea-salt caramels. Have you tried them before?” Isabel asked.
Jenny shook her head.
“Well, you can try them today, if you want.”
“You must eat a lot of chocolate.” Jenny grinned.
“I do.”
Not that she ever had in her old life. She’d been so afraid of gaining weight that she’d counted her calories and drunk water to fill the ache in her gut. She had been size 2 or bust back then, checking her weight every morning in order to “stay on top of it.” After the accident—after realizing that she could have died that day—she promised herself that she’d stop denying herself the simple pleasures in life. What did she want put on her tombstone? “Isabel Baxter was a size 2.” What use was that to anyone?
As they worked together, the line of finished caramels grew longer, and then they started on a second row, then a third. The work felt good, her tension and energy fused into repetitive actions, chocolate after chocolate deposited on the parchment. She was making something solid, sweet and delicious—something concrete, instead of the size 2 clothing that she used to look to for validation.
“Jimmy said that people aren’t nice to you,” Jenny broke the silence, her hands still working.
Isabel shot her a curious look. “He did? When?”
“After you offered me the job. I asked him about you. He said that people like to see really beautiful people come down.”
Isabel smiled awkwardly. It was the truth, but it felt strange to hear how James talked about her to others. “What else did he say?”
“He said that they’re stupid.”
Isabel laughed, heat rising in her face. So he’d stood up for her. That was nice to know. James was turning into an unexpected ally.
“Is it true?” Jenny asked.
“Yes, it is,” Isabel admitted. “You see, the thing is, I wasn’t really very nice when I lived here before.”
“You weren’t?” Jenny stopped working, staring at her in surprise.
Isabel shrugged. “My father was wealthy, and I was considered very beautiful. I got my way a lot. No one ever said no to me.”
“People say no to me all the time.” Jenny picked up her next piece of caramel.
“And y
ou’re a very sweet person,” Isabel said. “You know what it’s like to not get your way and to have to work hard for something. I didn’t know that. At least not then.”
“So people were mean?”
“Oh, no,” Isabel replied, dipping the caramel into the smooth chocolate. “Everyone was very nice to me. They were a little afraid of me, I think. It’s now, after I have these scars, that people seem kind of happy to see me put in my place.”
“I’m not.” Jenny dipped her caramel next.
“Thanks.” And she meant it. It felt good to have someone actually wish her well for a change.
“Do people look at you funny?” Jenny asked.
Isabel nodded. “All the time.”
“Me, too.” Sympathy warmed Jenny’s tone. “They look at me kind of closely. Then look back at me again, after they pass. It’s because I look different.”
“I think you’re lovely.”
“Well, I think you are, too,” Jenny replied. “But they still look, don’t they?”
They had more in common than Isabel would have guessed, and she liked Jenny’s company. There was no guile in Jenny, and that was something she wasn’t used to.
Isabel grabbed a bottle of pink, large-crystal sea salt and sprinkled it in a wide wave over the chocolate. She didn’t like to waste the salt because it was costly, but it wasn’t right to skimp, either.
“If you’re going to make sea-salted caramels, then you use enough salt,” she said as she worked. After a moment, she stood back. “Beautiful. Try one, Jenny.”
They each took a caramel between two fingers and popped them into their mouths. After some silent chewing, Isabel raised her eyebrows inquiringly.
“Well?” she asked, wiping her hands once more on a cloth.
“Yum.” Jenny nodded enthusiastically. “So good.”
“Great!” Isabel said. “That’s what I want to hear. Now, we have fourteen internet orders for these. So, we’re going to put these in the fridge to harden them, then we’re going to box them up. Maybe you can start putting together the boxes for me. They’re flattened and just need a little pop...”
In her mind’s eye, after the store was open, customers would line up to choose their favorites or something new to try...but would that really happen? Would Haggerston come flooding into her store to try her wares, or would they sit back and watch her flounder, happy to see the spoiled little princess go down?
* * *
JAMES PARKED HIS truck in front of Isabel’s shop and looked up at the newly installed sign. It looked like a monogram—a black swirling B against a cream-colored background. Underneath were the words Baxter’s Chocolates. It was simple, elegant and refined, and he found himself smiling. She was better at this than he’d thought.
People would say that this was the kind of expertise that money could buy, but he knew better than that. This was a labor of love for Isabel, and she’d planned all of this herself. As he got out of his truck, he noticed a couple of women stop to look up at the sign, then shade their eyes to peer into the window. They murmured together, their words not reaching his ears, but he fully recognized the downturn of their lips.
Isabel Baxter wasn’t forgiven yet.
James tried the front door and found it unlocked. Isabel had said that Jenny’s shift would be finished at five, so she must have been ready for him. He pulled open the door and stepped inside.
The storefront was beautifully set up. The smell of wood varnish filled the air—not strong enough to be offensive, but the pieces were obviously newly finished. A large gilt-framed mirror dominated the wall behind the front desk, which still lacked a cash register. The sideboard sat along the wall between two large windows. All the wooden pieces were the same color tone, yet they retained a look of distinctive elegance. There was a sense of charm and character already, even though there was obviously more to be done.
From the kitchen, voices filtered out to him.
“Okay, stir...keep stirring...harder. Use some muscle. Come on!” Isabel’s tone was commanding, and he raised a brow. He’d heard of chefs being demanding and emotional, but chocolatiers, too?
“My arm hurts,” Jenny said breathlessly. James paused, waiting for Isabel’s tone to soften, but he didn’t hear it.
“You’ll build some muscle. Keep going.”
This might be Isabel’s dream, and if she wanted to push herself to the limit, that was her business. In fact, knowing what he knew, it was a good idea to pour all of her energy into this venture, but his sister was a different story.
He headed toward the kitchen and pushed open the swinging door. Jenny stood at the stove, sweat beading on her forehead, her sleeves pushed up above her elbows as she stirred a large pot. Her cheeks were flushed, and she glanced up toward her brother, then back to the pot.
“Is it melted?” Isabel asked, looking over Jenny’s shoulder. “Okay, now pull it off the heat.”
Jenny grimaced, then heaved the pot off the burner. It looked heavy.
“Stir, stir!” Isabel commanded. “Never stop stirring. I told you that.”
“I know. Sorry.” Jenny was breathless and focused on the pot. She bent over it, stirring again.
Was this what Isabel had been doing with Jenny all day—barking at her and making her work like a horse? Why wasn’t Isabel stirring? Why make Jenny do the hard work? It looked like Isabel was taking advantage, and he didn’t like her tone, either. Jenny didn’t need to be ordered around. She was supposed to be helping out, not slaving away.
“Is all that really necessary?” James asked, his tone unimpressed.
Both women looked up, surprise registering on Isabel’s face. Apparently, she hadn’t heard the door. Irritation simmered to the surface.
“Yes,” Isabel said simply. She glanced at Jenny. “Keep stirring.”
“No, stop stirring,” James ordered. “That’s enough. Jenny, it’s time to go.”
Isabel took the paddle from Jenny’s hands and continued to move the chocolate around, but she met his gaze easily, guilt-free.
“Jimmy, I’m working—” Jenny began.
“Let me take care of this,” he said quickly. Jenny was trusting. She believed the best in everyone, but with a brother who was a lawyer, she wasn’t going to be taken advantage of. He’d been standing up for her since they were children, and right now he was just plain annoyed. When Isabel offered Jenny a job, this was not what he had in mind. “Isabel, we need to talk.”
“Absolutely,” she replied. “If you come over here. This has to keep moving or it’ll be ruined.”
“Fine.” He clenched his teeth in irritation and moved across the room. “What do you think you’re doing? You’re barking orders and making her stir until her arms are sore...”
“I’m teaching her to make chocolate.” Isabel didn’t look the least bit apologetic.
“I thought she was here to help you out with little jobs.”
“Little jobs?” Isabel looked up at him incredulously. “There is nothing little about chocolate making. And she’s good at it.”
She was either choosing not to understand him, or trying to force him to say it out loud. Either way, he didn’t like being manipulated.
“She’s not going to be able to do everything you want her to.” He lowered his voice. “Cut her some slack, would you?”
“No, I will not,” Isabel shot back. “She’s good at this. Really good. And she likes it. You go ahead and ask her once she’s out of the store, and see what she says. Do you see those caramels over there?”
He glanced in the direction she pointed with her chin. There was a stack of candy boxes, and beside them, a pan of chocolate ovals, shimmering with what appeared to be a sugar topping.
“Sure.”
“She made them,” Isabel said. “And they’re spectacular
. Jenny has a real talent, so I’m not going to pretend that she’s just here to sweep the floors. You’re being too protective.”
“Me?” Who did she think she was? She waltzed back into town with a trust fund and suddenly she knew more than he did about his own sister? “I’ve been taking care of her since we were kids. Who are you to tell me what I should be doing?”
Isabel slowed her stirring, then put down the paddle. She put her hands on her hips and tipped up her chin to meet his gaze. “You love her, and you don’t want her to be hurt. But sometimes you have to let go a little bit if she’s going to succeed.”
“And maybe you need to ease off,” he retorted.
“Jimmy?” He turned to see Jenny at his elbow.
“Hey, Jenny. Let me just talk to Isabel alone for a minute, okay?”
“No.” Jenny scowled. “I like this job. And I don’t want to get fired this time.”
James raised an eyebrow at Isabel. Color rose in her face.
“Was I too hard on you, Jenny?” she asked.
“I can take it,” Jenny said, but her voice wavered.
Isabel grimaced. “Look, Jenny, I’m sorry. I think your brother is right. I’ll watch my tone from now on, okay? You don’t have to learn everything all at once.”
Jenny nodded mutely.
“You did really good work. Can you come back Monday? We have another couple of batches to make, and it will be good for you to see how it’s done. I’ll be nicer. I promise.”
Jenny nodded exuberantly. “I’ll be here. Thanks, Izzy.”
Isabel smiled and moved the pot over to the counter. She turned her back, lining up several molds side by side. She didn’t seem to be slowing down.
“I’ll meet you at the truck,” James said, and Jenny went about peeling off her hair net and apron. She hung them on a peg on the wall and shot James a grin before pushing through the swinging door.
“You were right. I was being too hard on her. We’re both learning, and she really is good at this. There is a lot she can do,” Isabel said seriously. “And candy making is one of them. I wouldn’t trust her with this if I didn’t think she could do it, and do it well. My name goes on these chocolates, and if any of them are just ordinary, there is no reason for my customers to come back. They can buy ordinary chocolates in the grocery store. She might be working hard, but she’s got something to show for it, and she can be proud of herself. You wanted her to belong somewhere—well, you don’t really belong anywhere unless you’ve got something to contribute.”
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