The Next Forever

by Alix Kelso

  Chrissie sighed. “I don’t want us to fall out, Mum.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Irene laughed. “If you decide to pull out of the competition, that’s fine. But if you pull out, I hope it will be for the right reasons.”

  “Mum, listen—”

  “We’ll say no more about it. I just want what’s best for my girl. And before you say anything, you’ll always be my girl.”

  With that, Irene departed, throwing a wave through the glass pane of the door as she headed off along Caledonia Road. Chrissie watched her go before looking back at the paperwork she’d left behind.

  Chrissie had never entered a professional cake competition before. And this was a big one. She knew that Irene must have already submitted photographs of her work to have got this far.

  But competing would be a huge undertaking. And Irene had stepped over the line in pushing this on her. Now, Chrissie’s brain was scrambled just thinking about it. She considered her order book and the customers she had to keep happy. Eva Collins’s marathon consultation was proof of how hard that could be. There just wasn’t time to fit in the design and baking and decorating of yet another cake for a competition she didn’t even want to take part in. It was too much.

  All she wanted was to close her shop and walk over to Valentino’s restaurant for that coffee she’d been looking forward to. She simply couldn’t think about the cake competition right now. In fact, she had to get out of her shop before anything else happened to her day off.

  As she reached for the light switches, she gathered up the stack of competition paperwork and was about to sweep it into her bag when the paperclip came loose and the papers slipped to the floor behind the counter. Shaking her head, Chrissie reached down to retrieve them, straining to snag the sheets that had slid beneath the printer shelf. As she crouched, the bell above the door tinkled as someone stepped inside.

  And Chrissie knew, just knew, that this day off was well and truly doomed after all.

  4

  Keith opened the door and peered into the little cake shop. The place looked deserted.

  When he’d been walking down Caledonia Road and had finally spotted Frank Jackson’s appliance repair shop, and then Chrissie’s Cakes in the unit beside it, the shop had appeared to be open, and he could see someone moving around inside when he’d crossed the road. But as he’d reached the door, the lights had suddenly gone off.

  “Hello?” Keith called out. “Anyone here?”

  For a moment there was only silence. But as he glanced around, a head popped up from beneath the counter, startling him into a surprised laugh.

  “Oh, hello there,” he said.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to give you a jump,” the woman said as she stood up, clutching a sheaf of paperwork which she scowled at before shoving it into an envelope and tossing it into a bag that sat on the counter. She offered a flustered smile and batted a few stray hairs away from her face.

  Keith looked around the unlit interior and noticed that the woman had her jacket on and her keys in her hand. “Are you closing? Should I come back tomorrow?”

  But the woman shook her head and smiled again. “Don’t be daft. You’re here, I’m here. It’d be downright rude to send you away. What can I do for you?”

  Keith stepped further into the shop and let the door swing closed. “I need to order a wedding cake.”

  “Then you’ve come to the right place.”

  Keith watched the woman smile again. It was a nice smile, he thought, even if it was also a little weary looking. “Are you Chrissie?” he asked, gesturing to indicate the sign outside the shop.

  “I am.” She opened a ledger and picked up a pen. “And what’s your name?”

  “Keith. Keith McGraw. I’m the landlord at The Crooked Thistle pub over on Shaw Street.”

  Chrissie nodded as she scribbled in the ledger. “I know the place. So, you’re getting married soon, Mr McGraw? Congratulations.”

  Keith’s eyes flew wide. “Oh no, I’m not getting married. Been there, done that, won’t ever be doing it again, thanks very much.” He laughed, but noticed that Chrissie’s smile was wavering in confusion. He cleared his throat and started again. “A young friend of mine is getting married and needs a wedding cake. I said I’d help out.”

  Chrissie’s smile returned and she switched on the computer behind the counter. “Give me the date and I’ll see how my order book looks.”

  “It’s a week on Tuesday.”

  Her head snapped up. “I don’t even have to look at my spreadsheet to know I can’t do it. It’s much too soon.”

  Keith grunted. “I know it’s short notice, but is there any way you could fit us in?”

  But Chrissie was shaking her head. “My slots are filled. It takes time to bake and decorate my cakes, even simple ones, and once my time’s booked, it’s booked.” She moved away from the computer keyboard and gave him a sympathetic smile. “Maybe you could order something online at Marks and Spencer. You’re too late for anything bespoke, but you’d be able to get a plain white cake and decorate it yourself with some fresh flowers. I’m sure it’d look lovely.”

  Keith appreciated the thought. But messing around with online orders and decorating the cake himself wasn’t what he’d signed up for. And anyway, Big Kev had told him that his fiancée wanted a heart-shaped wedding cake done in pink icing. Keith knew there was no way he’d be able to source something like that off the shelf.

  “I’d be happy to pay extra for the rush job,” Keith said.

  Chrissie again shook her head. “Money isn’t the problem. I just don’t have a time slot to fit this in.”

  “Please,” Keith said, stepping closer. “I don’t have a clue about cake decorating and I’d hate to disappoint my friend with some hack-job I put together myself. His fiancée wants a heart-shaped cake in pink icing and the groom doesn’t want to disappoint his bride.”

  He watched Chrissie’s face and wondered if the woman was possibly caving in to his shameless begging. “It’s a small wedding because they don’t have money to pay for something extravagant. But the bride wants a beautiful cake for her wedding day and I told the groom I’d help him find one. Please, is there anything you can do?”

  She held his gaze for a long beat, seeming to consider what he’d said, before glancing at the envelope of paperwork she’d shoved into her bag, a look of anxiety crossing her face. But a few seconds later, she sighed and turned to him with a smile.

  “When you put it like that, it’s hard to say no,” she said.

  “So you’ll do it?”

  “Yes, I’ll do it.”

  Keith blew out a breath of relief. “Thank you. Charge extra for the late order and I’ll take care of it.”

  But Chrissie waved this away. “There won’t be any extra charge.” She turned to the keyboard and began typing. “So, they want a heart-shaped cake in pink icing. I can’t offer more than two tiers, is that okay?”

  Keith nodded. “That’s brilliant.”

  “And I won’t have time for anything fancy in terms of decorations, but I could make some royal icing roses for the top tier, maybe in ivory to contrast with the pink. And I’ll add some plain ivory ribbon trim too, to finish it off. How does that sound?”

  “It sounds perfect.”

  “I’ll take a deposit today and give you an invoice for the groom with all the details so he knows what he’s buying.”

  Keith grinned. “You think I might be messing up this order?”

  She gave him a careful smile. “I’ve been doing this long enough to understand that brides usually have very specific ideas about what they want, and it’s usually the bride I speak to. Instead, I’m speaking to you, and you got your cake description second hand from the groom. I’m guessing which decorations the bride will like, but she may want something different. Give them this invoice, make sure they’re happy with the specifications, and confirm with me so we’re all on the same page.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Keith said, and
gave a mock salute. When Chrissie only stared, he dropped his hand and shoved it in his pocket.

  “Here,” Chrissie said and walked quickly to the back before returning with a small box in her hand. “Cake samples. All my customers receive them.”

  Smiling, Keith opened the box and peered inside. There were four little squares of cake, each of them prettily iced, and he chose one and popped it in his mouth. “Mmm, delicious.”

  “Hopefully the bride and groom will think so too,” Chrissie said, eyeing him carefully as he selected another cake square. “Assuming there are any samples left for them to try.”

  Keith closed the box and found himself enjoying the wry look the woman gave him. Once she’d whisked his credit card through the payment machine and given him a receipt, he turned to the door.

  “Thanks again for taking this order at late notice,” he said.

  Chrissie shrugged and smiled. “If I’d turned you away, I would’ve felt guilty. This way, I saved myself a few hours of self-torture and now I can close the shop and enjoy my afternoon off.”

  Keith laughed. “Have you got something nice planned for the rest of the day?”

  Picking up her keys from the counter, Chrissie waved to the world beyond the shop window. “I haven’t had a day off in a month. All I want is to sit somewhere with a coffee and stare into space and not think about anything.”

  “It sounds like you deserve that much at least.”

  As Keith opened the door, the shop phone began ringing. Chrissie’s gaze swept towards it, and then back to Keith.

  “Let it go to the answer machine,” he said, grinning.

  “I know that’s what I should do,” Chrissie said, reaching for the handset. “But there might be a panicking bride on the other end.” She gave him a resigned smile. “Clearly there’s something wrong with me.”

  Laughing, Keith waved and stepped through the door as Chrissie answered the phone and began talking. Hello, Chrissie’s Cakes. Yes, everything’s fine for the pick-up tomorrow … Of course we can move it from ten o’clock to nine … Yes, I’ll be here…

  Keith glanced back through the shop window and saw Chrissie cradling the phone to her ear while she tapped at her keyboard. A wave of gratitude rolled through him at how she’d gone out of her way to help. Despite having gone through the marriage mill three times, he’d somehow forgotten how tortured wedding planning could be.

  Keith headed back to Shaw Street and his pub. After all this excitement, he was looking forward to some peace and quiet.

  5

  Chrissie glanced at the clock in the shop kitchen and saw that it was four in the afternoon. Her day off work had turned into another day at work.

  After she’d dealt with the man from The Crooked Thistle pub and the phone call that had come through, another walk-in customer had arrived, although this one hadn’t actually ordered anything even after thirty minutes spent flicking through the cake albums while stuffing her face with free samples.

  And as soon as the non-customer had left, there’d been another phone call.

  By that point, the day was as good as gone anyway, and Chrissie had retreated to her shop kitchen to work on a birthday cake due for pick up the following week. She figured that if she got a head start, maybe she could finish early tomorrow. Although, it wasn’t likely – not if she was planning to fit in this new wedding cake order alongside the insane cake competition her mother had entered her into.

  Still, she hadn’t yet made up her mind about the competition. While she’d prepared the chocolate sponges for the birthday cake order, she’d thought about what it would take to make a cake spectacular enough to be worthy of the Wedding Cake Showcase.

  It would take a lot – a lot more than she had to give.

  Now, as the chocolate sponges baked, filling the kitchen with the sweet aroma of warm cocoa, Chrissie pushed aside thoughts of the competition and began work on the decorations to finish the birthday cake. The woman who’d ordered the cake for her little girl’s surprise party had requested an animal theme, explaining that her daughter was especially fond of elephants. Chrissie had designed a fun safari-style cake with an elephant standing proudly on top of the two tiers, surrounded by lions and zebras and monkeys and giraffes. It was going to look wonderful, and Chrissie liked imagining the little birthday girl’s surprised face when her mother revealed the cake during her party.

  She liked knowing that she was helping bring a little joy into the world. The world could certainly use it. Whether it was a birthday cake featuring a child’s favourite animal or a wedding cake reflecting the love that two people were about to pour into a marriage, Chrissie hoped that what she did helped people make their special days shine a little brighter. It was a small thing. But Chrissie had always believed that, in life, it was the small things that mattered most.

  After twenty minutes working on the birthday cake decorations, Chrissie stepped back from the counter and stretched her back and hands. The intricate icing work required care and concentration, and sometimes she became so engrossed that she failed to notice the twinge in her back and the ache in her hands until they’d already settled in. As she stretched her fingers and rolled her shoulders, she looked around the little kitchen with its commercial ovens and stainless steel equipment and stacks of baking tins. Sometimes she still got a shiver down her spine at the realisation that this business was hers. For the longest time, she hadn’t imagined ever being in a position to call something like this her own.

  She’d spent most of her working life in kitchens of one kind or another. After chef training in college, she’d found her place in restaurants and hotels around the city, working long, hard hours to prove her worth. Like many young chefs, she’d dreamt of one day running her own kitchen in her own restaurant. At the end of long shifts, when she was bone tired from being on her feet in a hot kitchen, she would remind herself of her dream and of the dues that had to be paid before she could reach it.

  And then disaster had struck.

  Although it hadn’t seemed like a disaster at the beginning. She’d simply fallen in love with a wild and passionate man who’d set her heart on fire and turned her mind inside out. Clever, energetic, charming and astonishingly good looking, Steven Addison was also a chef, already beginning to set the culinary world alight with his passionate cooking, and he’d hit her like a tornado. Chrissie had been amazed that he found her even remotely interesting or attractive, but for some reason he had, and just a few months after they got together, he convinced her to marry him so that they could chase their dreams together.

  Why wait? he’d asked. Wait for what? He wanted to marry her now. Would she be his wife?

  Caught up in the romance, Chrissie had said yes.

  A month later she’d found herself jilted at the altar. Two weeks after that she’d discovered she was pregnant.

  And the wild and passionate young man who’d stolen her heart and upended her life? He’d disappeared from her world almost as quickly as he’d arrived.

  It was cruel, unfair and utterly crushing. But there’d been no time to think about any of that. A baby was coming. And once Alison had been born, the torrid restaurant hours Chrissie worked were no longer feasible, not with a child to raise alone. And so Chrissie had reluctantly said goodbye to her restaurant life and counted her lucky stars when she found a job as a college lecturer.

  It had been the right choice, even if it had been a hard one. As she’d struggled to come to terms with single parenthood, the regular college hours had suited her far better than late-night restaurant shifts ever would have, and Chrissie soon found she enjoyed teaching and sharing all she knew about the world of food and commercial cookery. But once Alison got into her teenage years and no longer needed her mother around so much, Chrissie had found her mind returning to the life she’d once had in those busy restaurant kitchens, and to the dreams she’d had of one day becoming chef-patron.

  But she was no fool. By then in her forties and with her restaurant exper
ience long behind her, she knew that few chefs would be interested in taking her on. She doubted she’d be up to the challenge of returning to long, hard restaurant shifts anyway. But while working at the college, she’d found a new passion for cakes and the delicate art of cake decoration, thanks to a class she’d developed for the pastry curriculum. Chrissie found herself wondering if, rather than trying to return to a life that now belonged in the past, she should instead embrace something entirely new. After all, she’d done it once before when she’d swapped her career in a restaurant for one in a college. Maybe she had it in her for one more big change where she could indulge this unexpected love she’d found for cakes.

  And so Chrissie’s Cakes had been born.

  She’d taken a huge risk, leaving behind a secure college job to gamble everything on a new business. But although she’d been scared, it had been a nice sort of scared, the sort that had told her she might just be doing the right thing.

  Yet there had been countless terrifying moments during that first year. The bills were eye-watering and Chrissie’s savings had been almost entirely drained to get the business up and running. More than once, she feared that she’d made a huge mistake and jeopardised her financial future, and her daughter’s too.

  But by then there’d been no choice but to dig in and keep going. The shop unit had been leased, the kitchen equipment purchased, and the wheels were all in motion. And so she baked. She baked and iced, and then baked and iced some more. She wrestled with business paperwork and bookkeeping and accounts and computer systems and supplier contracts and marketing and advertising. And when she grew weary of those necessary but troublesome things, she retreated to the kitchen in her little shop and baked and iced and baked and iced.

  Then, at some point, a little miracle happened. Word got around Fairhill and beyond about the gorgeous special-occasion cakes that could be found at Chrissie’s shop. If you were in the market for a wedding cake or birthday cake, anniversary cake or retirement cake, Chrissie’s was the place to go. She wasn’t cheap, people told one another. But you got something truly special for your money.