CHAPTER FOUR
Allie
The bakery was quiet, the slow, early-morning quiet that I usually relished. Out in the street I could hear a truck back up but besides the sound of that, there was peace and stillness.
This is the time I like best.
I looked forward to this usually. But now I felt nothing but a sorrowful emptiness.
I didn't need a reminder. What the hell am I supposed to do. What now?
Seeing Drew had evoked the weirdest response in me. I just simply didn't know what to think. It felt as if my thoughts were a TV screen and someone had sneaked in and pulled out the connecting cable. My mind was an empty blank, as if my whole world didn't know what to do next.
“Ms. Hendricks?”
I turned around to face Marcelle. “Yes?” I asked. My mood must have shown on my face more than I thought, because Marcelle's high, well-groomed eyebrows arched down sharply.
“Mrs. Hendricks? You okay?”
I sighed. “Yes. I'm fine, Marcelle. What's up?”
“Just wondering what to start with first, Mrs. Hendricks. You see, I should get the pastries in first. But then we have that big order for this afternoon...”
“Oh, heck!” I snapped my fingers, my heart suddenly jumping. “The mayoral do-thing...I forgot!”
She chuckled. “I almost did too...thank Goodness for Post-its.”
I chuckled too. “Yeah, that's true. Well, I'll mix the batter for the cakes. You get started on the pastries. Is someone opening up in front?”
“Kelsey is.”
“Perfect.” I sighed. Sometimes, things figure themselves out. I reached for my apron and the flour, the recipe in my mind already so I only had to do it on autopilot.
If only everything else worked out that easily.
As I mixed the batter for the cakes, I found my mind thinking about Drew. He was just as stunning as I remembered. Tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed. And absolutely picture-perfect. I felt my insides start to respond as I recalled things about him. How it felt to lie in his arms. How his hand had felt, stroking my hair. How he kissed.
“Mrs. Hendricks?”
“Yeah?” I asked briskly.
“Coffee and already two orders for pastries.”
“Oh. Heck. How are they doing?” I called to Marcelle, who nodded.
“Sure, Mrs. Hendricks. Rising great. Should be ten more minutes.”
“Great. Take the coffees out now, please, Kelsey.”
“Coming up, Ms. Hendricks.”
“Awesome. Now where has that sieve got to?”
I prepared the batter and started to set out the cupcake liners. Our bakery had a color scheme of peach and white – soft ice-cream colors that matched the sign out front. I was using those colors in the cupcake-papers and they'd be echoed in the icing.
“Ms. Hendricks?”
“Uh huh?”
“Phone-call.”
“Coming...” my voice trailed off. “Can you take over with the ladle?”
“Sure, Ms. Hendricks.”
I headed over to the corner of the bustling, sweet-smelling kitchen, and took the call. “Hello?”
“Ms. Hendricks? Hi… it's me.”
“Hi, Trent?” It was the guy who drove my van.
“Ms. Hendricks, I'm sorry, but I'm sick. I can't make it today...” he trailed off and I sighed. I could hear how sore his throat must be – he was rasping and croaky and if I thought back to yesterday, he'd been sick then.
“I understand,” I said softly. “Just make sure you come back with a doctor's certificate, okay?” I added. It was one thing to let the guy off for a day – I didn't want him coming to work with a cold, besides anything else – but I needed to make sure no-one got the wrong idea. Just skipping days without notice wasn't something I wanted them all doing. I sighed.
“Sure thing, Ms. Hendricks.”
“Great. And, get well soon.”
“I'll try.”
He put the phone down as he started coughing and I stretched my back wearily. I could do without someone sneezing on the product, but that was the best that could be said. I needed a driver. Now I'd have to take the deliveries round myself.
“Well, I'll just have to.”
No point in arguing about what couldn't be altered.
I headed back into the main body of the kitchen.
“Marcelle?”
“Yes?” she called from the back, lifting hot pastries out of the oven and filling the room with a mouth-watering baking aroma.
“Take over from me at three this afternoon, huh? I'll need to drive the van to the party tent.”
“Okay, Ms. Hendricks,” she nodded. “Here we go,” she added to Kelsey, passing the girl two pastries arranged on doily-covered side-plates. “Super fresh.”
“Great,” I said. “Now. Let's get those cupcakes in by noon, huh?”
“Yes, Mrs. Hendricks.”
We worked together side-by-side and by the time we were ready to have our own lunch I was almost dropping with exhaustion. I took the cupcakes out of the oven and set them aside to cool, then leaned back on the wall, closing my eyes a moment.
I wonder if Drew's still here?
I sighed, weeding out the thought with ruthless precision. No. No thoughts of him. I wasn't going to let myself get distracted. It was six years ago, for pity's sake. And still, my heart ached for him with the ruthless efficiency with which my stomach now ached for something to eat.
“Are we going to ice them all peach and white?” Marcelle asked, coming to join me. We looked down at the batch of a hundred cupcakes. We had an order for cupcakes and the same number of scones, with jam and cream too.
“I think so,” I nodded. “Our signature.”
“I'll make the icing now,” Marcelle said briskly.
“Thanks,” I nodded appreciatively. “I'll start cutting the scones and then I'll break for lunch.”
“I've already had a break,” Kelsey said, coming in from round the side. She smelled like curry and I guessed her dad must have made her something to bring along. “I'll do the scones.”
“That's really thoughtful,” I said appreciatively. I was just about dropping on my feet. “Thank you, Kelsey. I appreciate it.”
“No worries, Ms. Hendricks.”
I hauled myself through the rear door of the kitchen and stood under the awning, looking out over the gray back-yard, the gray sky above. I felt like crying. I took out my own lunch – a bagel I'd prepared yesterday – and ate desultorily, listening to the hiss of traffic on a rain-wet road-surface beyond.
What is up with you?
I had no idea as I thought it, if the thought was addressed to Drew or to me. I was confused by all of it, quite frankly. His appearance, my response. What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to react?
His response had been what confused me most.
I thought he hated me. Now he smiles like that? Seeks me out, even?
I couldn't even begin to make sense of it. I had rebuilt my life on the firm foundation that Drew Liston was completely indifferent to me. Now he burst in and acted as if I really mattered?
“What an ass,” I muttered, swallowing a mouthful of salad-filled bagel and swearing at an invisible specter of Drew across the yard.
I laughed.
I had never expected, of all the crazy things that could happen to me, that Drew bursting into my life would be one of them. Now he had. And, even if I'd expected him to be there I would still have had no idea what to say.
“Drew Liston, you are a mystery to me.”
I said it out loud to the rain-soaked yard, the wire-topped fence, the row of dumpsters. None of them, predictably, replied. I sighed. If any of this made sense, it would take someone more sensible than me to see it.
I scuffed my feet on the mat by the back door and headed slowly inside.
The kitchen was busy and industrious, with the scones already halfway to being finished and the frosting ready for the cupcakes.
“Wow, team!” I said, feeling pleased. “You guys are awesome! Great.”
Kelsey giggled and Marcelle smiled.
“Now. All we need is the last batch of scones...” I went to open the oven, coughing as smoke came out with the usual savory smell hovering in the background, somewhat subdued.
“Something burning?” Marcelle asked.
“It's okay,” I said, fanning with my hands as the smoke started to clear and then reaching inside. “I made extra...we've messed up about ten of them, though. Anyone want one?”
Kelsey appeared at my elbow like a scone-hunting missile and I passed her one of the less-burned casualties with a grin.
“Here you go. Great work, too,” I added, looking approvingly at the ready-cut scones. “I don't think anyone will notice if we're a bit crisped around the edges for the last two dozen...”
I felt a bit self-conscious as I divided up the last scones and left them to cool off. They weren't the best I'd made, but the rest hopefully made up for it. I felt a bit jittery as I scooped them into the middle of the trays, later, hiding the flawed ones.
I don't think anyone will notice. The cupcakes carry the day. They look superb.
Marcelle was a skilled baker in her own right, with a real flair for cake decoration. I looked forward to making her a business-partner one day. The scones were topped with fluffy frosting and decorated with pink and white buttons of fondant, the colors marbled onto them with a bamboo skewer.
“Right,” I said, feeling proud of our result. I glanced at the clock. “I'll re-open the front and then we'll get those sent off in an hour. Okay?”
“Yes, Ms. Hendricks.”
I took over at front-of-house while Kelsey finished the scones and was just making one of an unnumbered amount of coffees when she appeared behind me.
“It's two o' clock.”
“Oh. Heck!” I spun round, heading into the back. It was time for us to get the delivery underway. I had said I'd get the scones and cupcakes to the town library at three. “I'm on my way.”
“Great.”
I loaded the cupcakes and scones on their trays into the back of the car, glad I had mastered the art of getting them wedged in firmly so they wouldn't be damaged. Then I set off.
“Oh for...” I closed my eyes as the traffic started to build up around me. I wasn't cut out to be a driver. I have the patience threshold of a bull terrier and am about as excitable. My blood-pressure was rising a few bars every minute, I would imagine, and as the traffic finally cleared I shot ahead, my heart thumping.
“Whew.”
I pulled up at the destination at exactly three o' clock. Jumping out, I ran around the back of the car and got out the first load. I walked quickly and nervously up the steps.
“Hello?” I greeted a woman in a black uniform, who seemed to be setting out food stands. “I'm one of the caterers. Sugarlips café?”
“Ah. Great. We were waiting for that. There’s a tower over there,” she said, scraping a strand of blond hair away from her eyes and pointing to a table where I should set my tray down.
“Awesome. Thanks.” I hurried to the corner and obliged. It seemed like we were running late, as already the rest of the caterers were packing away, and the sound crew were just testing the microphone.
Oh heck. Now you'd better rush. It's bad enough some of the scones are burned.
I headed out to the car, afraid to make a bad impression. I grabbed the tray and ran in. That was when the guy got in my way.
I yelled as I walked into him. Luckily I'd slowed down somewhat, or the mess would've been unthinkably-worse. As it was, the first row of scones collided into his back, leaving cream on the smart black overcoat.
He made a surprised noise and turned round.
“I'm sorry, I...” I was almost crying with frustration and contrition. Then I saw his face. I stared.
“Allie?”
“Drew!”
I exploded. Of all people! Why, when I was running late and things were already unraveling, did he have to stand in front of me. I almost swore.
“I need to get these into the hall,” I said tightly. “I'm sorry about your coat,” I added, reaching into my pocket for a tissue. I passed it to him. Our hands met.
I felt my jaw clench as the soft touch sped up my nerves with the power of a thousand watts. I felt my heart ignite and my nerves shiver and my cheeks turned bright crimson with some strange mix that was part embarrassed and part absolute pleasure.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“I need to go,” I said hastily. I was already heading past.
The woman who'd been overseeing the proceedings appeared ahead of me. “Oh!” She took in the ruined scones – only the front row, for which I was grateful – and then nodded. “Never mind. We'll just eat those here. Put them on the table and we'll take those five...” she was taking the ruined ones off, “and put them out for the rest of us. Okay?”
“Thank you,” I murmured gratefully. She nodded.
“No worries,” she said warmly. She was about to bite into a scone when she looked behind me and saw someone. “Mister...Oh. Sorry...”
He smiled at her. “No worries,” he said. “I'm early. I know. I just wanted to get some sunshine.” He indicated the lawn outside, bathed in warm light. Then he turned to me. “Ms. Hendricks. My apologies. I got in your way.”
He looked genuinely remorseful, but that wasn't enough to stem my fury. My embarrassment and impatience mixed together into a cocktail of rage.
“You didn't have to stand in the pathway,” I said sharply. The event coordinator looked at me like I'd just exploded. I had, more or less. “Of all the...” I trailed off, sighing.
“I know. I am sorry. Really. Alexandra?”
I looked into his eyes and I wanted to forgive him. He looked so sorry.
“Good,” I murmured. I turned away and walked inside. He didn't try to stop me. Inside, I narrowed my eyes to accustom to the dark and looked around.
“Over here, please,” the organizer said to me nervously as she led me to the place where I should put the tray. She seemed somehow afraid of me, as if the way I'd growled at Drew was something unheard-of. I guess it was.
“Are we ready yet?” Someone said coming in – I guessed her to be a secretary of some sort. The organizer nodded stiffly. “Just finishing off. Five minutes. Okay?”
“Perfect, Carla.”
The secretary seemed to notice about the same time as all of us did that Carla was standing with five scones in her hand and that there was a man with a cream-stained jacket in the doorway. We all looked at each other and I laughed.
“Let's put those on a plate,” I said quickly, grabbing an occasional plate and handing it to the organizer, who looked relieved. “We can offer them around to the technicians later, maybe.”
“I don't know why they should get them,” Carla grinned, lifting one and sampling it. “They're really good.”
I blushed. “Thanks,” I said.
“You made them?” the voice I really didn't want to hear said behind me.
“Yes, I did,” I said tersely. What did he think I did, paint pictures? I was a cook. This was what I did.
“I look forward to trying them,” he said softly. I let his words shiver down into my bones. It felt almost as if we were alone together, discussing something other than my confections.
“I should go,” I said, feeling my throat closing up with longing. “I need to get to work.”
“Of course,” the secretary said to me, eying Drew with a worried glance. He wasn't supposed to be in here early, that was clear. For once it seemed he was as much breaking rules as I was.
“I'll be off, then,” I said to the two women, pointedly ignoring Drew where he stood just behind my right shoulder. “Thanks, guys.”
“Thank you,” Carla said, finishing the scone. I smiled and walked out.
At the car, I leaned on the door with my eyes tight shut. Whew. It could have been worse. I could have dropped the whole tray of cupcakes. As it was, everything made it somewhat whole. And what was he doing here, of all things? I looked at a banner, which welcomed us to the fifteenth annual charity tea.
“Weird place for someone who's an out-of-town celeb.”
Because he was. Drew Liston was fairly well-recognizable from articles in magazines and the press, features on blogs and news sites. If the two women in the community hall didn't recognize him, it was probably just because having him there was really unexpected.
I'm almost getting sick of him walking in and turning my world upside-down. It seemed like no matter where I turned, there was no getting away from the guy.
I noticed it was almost four P.M. I should go. I opened my door and slid inside.
“Allie?”
He was running out towards the car. I stayed with the door part-open, just waiting to see what would happen. He ran up, panting, and bent down to the door. I opened it. Why not hear what he had to say? I watched with weary disinterest as he ran up.
“You leaving?” he asked. He looked distressed.
“Yes. I am. I have to go back to work, Drew,” I said tiredly. “I'm sorry I bumped into you. Okay. Really I am,” I added with some asperity. “Now, if you don't mind, I have to go. Have fun.”
He stared at me. “But Allie...you could stay,” he protested. “Won't you just talk?”
I shook my head. “I can't stay, Drew.” I looked at the time. “I can't spend that long away from the business. Have a good day.”
I said it more firmly than was needed, but it gave me a sort of painful pleasure to see him look distressed. I closed the door and drove slowly off.
“Of all the arrogant, selfish...” I started, fuming. I said a lot of words that weren't appropriate to be said in front of polite company. I ran out of them and leaned on the steering-wheel. I sighed.
I was furious with him. I was also deeply affected by seeing him again.
Why does he have to make a nuisance of himself? I thought angrily. It wasn't as if I acted particularly pleased to see him, now was it? So why did he have to go and inflict his company on me, as if I really wanted to spend time talking to him?
Well, if I was honest with myself, I thought as I pulled away from the lights with a bit of a roar, I did want to spend time talking to him. I wanted it terribly.
But I'm not going to let him see it.
I reckoned he deserved to stew for a bit. He had been cruel to me. Really cruel. And now that I had the chance to confront him, all those years of bitterness and anger were starting to bubble to the surface inside me, like the curds in milk.
“Arrogant asshole,” I said with some savagery as I sped ahead and then turned right, heading for the parking around the back lot of the bakery.
I strode in feeling as if the air was going to catch fire as I went into the bakery. I was really mad now, having done my level best to make my hurt and confusion into a good healthy stew of anger as I drove up.
“How did it look?” Marcelle asked me.
“Like it looked in the shop – pretty and professional,” I said. Marcelle looked surprised.
“I just asked,” she said.
I realized I'd snapped at her and shook my head.
“Sorry, Mar. Just in a bad mood.”
“Is there something I can do?” she asked, sounding concerned.
“No,” I sighed. I don't think anyone can help. How's things going here?”
She jerked her head towards the front room. “Getting less hectic. Only a few customers. Winding down.”
“Whew.” I breathed out a sigh of relief. It was a Thursday afternoon an hour and a quarter to closing-time. At least that meant things were peaceful.
“I know how you feel,” Marcelle grinned. “This place never stops.”
“Well, I'm usually glad about it,” I commented, reaching for my apron and tying it on before I went over to start packing the dishwasher. More custom meant higher earnings, after all. “But today I'm finished.”
Marcelle chuckled. “Doesn't happen all that often, does it now? You've got energy for three.”
I laughed. I usually did. I often had enough energy to stay on my feet all day at the bakery and consider heading to the gym. But the last two days I'd been feeling somewhat subdued.
I knew why, too. It was because Drew was back in town. And I couldn't make any sense of it. If I stopped to think about it I felt as if my brain was melting. Why was he being so damn friendly to me? I thought he hated me. I couldn't understand it!
“Come on,” I said, more to myself than anyone else. “Just an hour to go.”
“Yup,” Marcelle echoed as she worked on a new batch of pastry to be used tomorrow morning. “One more hour.”
“Thank goodness,” I said. I meant it. At least when I was done I could head home to think. I knew I needed to. All of this was just a bit crazy.
I closed my eyes as thoughts of Drew flashed through my mind. I remembered meeting him years ago. I was at college, just about to quit my second year of Graphic Design and follow my dream of enrolling at cooking school. My friend Des and I had decided to go out to celebrate – she was totally behind me following my dreams.
I remembered how the car had broken down outside a fancy hotel. I'd jumped out to look under the hood and Des had joined me. We'd pushed the car into the parking area and were just calling the AA when a chauffeured car arrived.
“Hey,” the driver had said. I'd turned red – we were blocking up the way – and stammered.
“Uh, sorry. We're having trouble...”
The driver had lowered his brows, looking like he was about to lose his temper with me. Then the man beside him got out.
“Hello,” he said warmly. “Can I help you?”
I had stared at him. I'd melted. He was so handsome, with that fluffy brown hair and those long-lashed eyes. And the body! I felt myself heat up thinking about it.
“We're on our way out to a party,” Des had said helpfully. “And we've broken down.”
“I think it's the radiator,” I'd said. “We're calling the AA.”
“Oh.” His brow had gone up. He'd frowned at me. “The radiator?”
“Sure,” I said. I knew a bit about cars – they were a family passion and I often overheard my dad and uncles discussing them and what went wrong with them. I'd always paid attention and over time some of it had sunk in. “I can see that's what it is,” I added. Nothing more obvious than an overheated engine, now, was there?
He whistled. “I wouldn't know.” he said. He gave me a grin. “Never looked.”
I stared at him and we'd both laughed.
“Tell you what,” he'd said helpfully. “I'll call the guys to fix it. And let me give you a lift. Please?” he added. “Just tell Max here where you need to be and he'll take you.”
“Thanks!” Des had said enthusiastically. She'd looked at me. I'd been hesitating but she was keen on the idea. “In fact, don't stress about the car. We can leave it. I'll call the AA tomorrow morning. They'll sort it out.”
I laughed. “Des...”
“Your friend's right,” he nodded. “Only I think we'd better move the car. People will get mad if it's in the way.”
Laughing, I nodded. “Yeah.”
We pushed the car out of the way – at least I tried to. The man and his chauffeur insisted on doing it for us, which made me feel slightly peeved at first.
“I can push a car,” I said thinly. He laughed.
“I believe it. I just thought that, since we were here, we'd do it instead. Right?”
I had consented to let him push the car and he and Max, the chauffeur, had done the job effortlessly.
“Say,” Des said when the three of us – me, her and the stunning guy – stood looking at each other awkwardly, “if you're not busy, why not come with us?”
“Des...” I'd begun, feeling my cheeks flare with embarrassment. But he had laughed, interrupting me.
“I would love to. Um...where are you going?”
I had laughed. “We were just going out for a drink,” I said.
“We were going to Papa Joe's,” my friend said, once again embarrassing me profoundly. Did she have to mention that we were going to celebrate at one of the less-salubrious bars in the student area? This guy had probably never seen such a place, much less visited it.
“Oh,” he said. “Well, I don't know much about that kind of thing. Is it a club?”
Des and I had both started laughing. “Not exactly,” I said between laughs.
“Oh. Well, I'd love to find out more,” he said hopefully.
I looked at Des and she looked at me. “Um...” I began.
“Of course, we could always just go to the hotel bar,” he said.
“Much better idea,” Des said quickly. I looked at her, dismayed. She was really suggesting that I go into the Forrey Hotel with torn jeans and a slightly grayed-out gauze tunic?
“Well, then,” our hero smiled. “Let's go. I'm Drew, by the way,” he said with an embarrassed grin. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Des,” Des said. “It's short for Desrae.”
“Alexandra,” I said. He looked into my eyes and smiled.
“It's lovely to meet you, Alexandra.”
That was it. Our first meeting. We has a few drinks, me drinking just some sweet lemonade and chatted. Des had soon ended up talking to another group, leaving us alone together. We'd exchanged numbers. I hadn't expected him to call me the next day, but he had.
We'd dated for a year. Then, after that party at the Gracewell Hotel, when his uncle had met me, everything changed. He had walked out of my life then and now, suddenly, he had walked back into it. Unexpectedly, like when he'd first entered.
Just like then, I had no idea how to make sense of it at all.
“Sorry to disturb,” a voice said timidly from behind me, shattering my reverie.
“What, Kelsey?” I asked, turning around quickly, a spoon with batter on it still in my hand.
“Um...I was just wondering if you could show me how the filling thingy works? For the croissants? I have two orders, and...”
“Oh! Hell. So sorry, Kelsey. I was miles away. I'll come now...”
I dropped the spoon back into the mixture and hurried to the front to fill the croissants. Kelsey watched me and by the end of the first one she was filling like a pro. I grinned into her innocent young face. Her eyes shone.
“That's great,” I praised. “A few more like that and you're the Croissant Filling Champion.”
She giggled. “Thanks, Ms. H.”
“No problem.”
I returned to the back of the kitchen where I was stirring my mixture. I sighed to myself. If only all problems were that easy to solve. But this matter of Drew, and what I was supposed to think now he was back in my life, was just so much more complicated than that.