Chapter Five

The cakes turn out perfectly, and Matt tries not to preen too much as he slices them up for Karen. She has another woman with her today, dressed to the nines and wearing an uncomfortably haughty expression, and Matt figures that this is the senator’s newly engaged daughter. He isn’t used to being around someone so visibly aristocratic – he may be a city boy at heart, but he came from almost nothing to scraping by in the middle class and serving cake to someone who oozes wealth and class would always be uncomfortable for him. Still, he’s made plenty of wedding cakes before, and he can get by with pretending she’s just another local customer if he doesn’t focus too hard on the tailored cut of her dress or the immense ring on her left hand.

Karen watches him with a glint in her eye as the senator’s daughter – Michelle, maybe, or Melissa – hums in delight after her first bite of each cake. He knows he can put out good bakes, he always has, and it’s an endless source of satisfaction to realize that Karen knows it too. He still isn’t quite sure why she decided to offer him the position, of all people. He has a number of regulars, but none posh enough to justify a connection with a company as elite as Clarke’s Events. It could have been a family member, he thinks, but he doesn’t know any of them well enough to just ask them outright. Margaret probably would, he realizes, and makes a mental note to grill her for some answers after the shop closes.

Michelle-or-Melissa’s phone rings, halfway through her fourth cake flavor, and Matt tries very hard not to listen in as she retreats to the corner to hold a heated debate with someone he assumes is her fiancé. Karen slides into one of the barstools when she goes, hair perfectly coiffed and posture stiff and professional as usual. She grabs a spare fork from the stash on the counter and sneaks a bite of the raspberry and white chocolate cake, brightening at the taste and giving Matt an approving nod.

“It’s good?” he asks, and she nods emphatically. The knowledge that the company likes him is a relief, even if the client doesn’t, although it doesn’t seem like that, given the way Michelle-or-Melissa is raving about the lemon cake over the phone.

“I might take some home, actually,” says Karen, “if you don't mind. My brother wanted to come in today, but he’s been working himself ragged so I told him to take some time off.”

“Your brother?” Matt knows that Clarke’s was a family-owned business, but somehow, he had forgotten that Karen didn’t run it all by herself.

“He usually handles this side of things,” Karen explains, taking another bite of cake. “Design, orchestration, all that. I’m the bride’s assistant, basically.”

“Ah.”

“He’ll probably be more in touch with you than I will once he gets back to work,” she adds. “But of course, you have my number if you ever need anything. I’ll leave you his too, in case you want to get to know him a bit before he starts hounding you for orders.”

“That bad?” asks Matt, and Karen winces.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she replies. “He’s not bad, really, he can just be a bit intense about his work.”

Matt opens his mouth to speak, but a frustrated groan and the click of heels from the other end of the shop cuts him off.

“Everything okay?” Karen asks when Michelle-or-Melissa returns, looking just a bit frazzled. Matt wouldn’t have been able to tell, honestly, if not for the way that Karen frets over. “We can come back another time, if you need.”

“I—” Michelle-or-Melissa starts, but shuts her mouth and doesn’t continue. Karen sighs almost imperceptibly, laying a hand on her arm and patting her gently.

“Melanie,” she says soothingly, and Matt runs through their entire visit, trying to remember if he had ever called Melanie by name. He doesn’t want his first big client to be offended on his first day out.

“It’s fine,” Melanie says, taking a breath. “I’ll take the lemon, please.”

“I’d be happy to box up some samples for you to take home if you’d like,” replies Matt, because this is not his first wedding cake and he does not want to send the daughter of a senator home unhappy. She sets her shoulders, though, determination and stubbornness written across her face, and Matt knows there’s no arguing with her.

“Just the lemon, thanks,” she says, and he doesn’t argue the point further.

***

After closing, Margaret pushes her way past the kitchen door and pulls herself up to sit on the counter, ignoring both the flour around her seat and the way Matt purses his lips at her. He doesn’t try to argue with her much anymore, she’s been around long enough to know that there’s no bite behind his words, and he respects the fact that she’s stuck around this long to really hold anything against her.

“How’d it go today?” she asks conversationally, handing over a coffee without Matt having to ask because she’s an absolute angel.

“Pretty well, I think,” Matt replies, not looking up from where he’s brushing egg wash onto his dough. “She loved the cake at least, and they won’t hold me responsible if the couple has a fallout over cake flavors.”

“You’re cool with being responsible for a senatorial divorce?” Margaret raises an eyebrow at him, and he fixes her with a flat look despite the teasing expression on her face.

“It’s just the senator’s daughter.”

Margaret huffs a laugh but drops it, falling silent and swinging her legs back and forth over the edge of the counter.

“Did you take any orders while I was on break yesterday?” she asks after a moment, and Matt stills his hands for a second before shaking himself and continuing his work without looking up. Bright eyes and a crooked grin fix themselves behind his eyelids, and he steadfastly ignores the way his stomach flips at the memory.

“A couple, why?” he asks, doing his best not to let his composure slip in front of Margaret. She would never let him live down a crush on a customer, not after she had mentioned in passing the year before that she thought one of the regular students was cute and Matt had baked hearts into every ginger and peach scone for two weeks afterwards.

“Someone was asking about you,” she says, exaggerating her disinterested tone, and Matt can’t hide his surprise when he stops his work and jerks his head sideways to look at her. Her expression is smug, but she schools her face into a casual look when he makes eye contact with her. “Tall, big blue eyes, looked kinda polished. Didn’t really seem like your type, but I guess—”

“He’s not,” Matt cuts in, going back to kneading his dough with a bit more force than necessary.

“Really?”

“Really, Margaret. Besides, I’m way too busy with the shop to even think about going on dates, much less with a customer I’ve spoken to all of once.”

“I just want it on the record,” Margaret says loftily, “that you were the one who brought up dating, not me.”

“Megs…” he starts, and Margaret pulls a face at the nickname. “Really, I’m fine where I am.”

“All you do is work.”

“If you love what you do...”

“You never work a day in your life,” she replies in a sarcastic voice. “I don’t think you’ve dated a single person in the time I’ve known you.”

“I’ve been on dates,” he says defensively.

“Not the same as dating someone,” she argues, and he can’t really disagree with that. “Why don’t you let me set you up with anyone?”             

“Because all your friends are at least five years younger than me. And because you have no idea what my taste is.”

“Sure I do,” she says matter-of-factly. “Tall, dark, and stubbly. Oh, and rich enough to wear tailored suits.”

Matt shoots her a dirty look, and she mimes zipping her mouth shut, her eyes twinkling mischievously. He goes back to his work once he’s satisfied that she won’t push the subject anymore, and the restless thrum under his skin eases a bit as he shapes his dough into neat loaves of bread. It’s not that he doesn’t want to date people, it’s just that he doesn’t have the time for it. He doesn’t have the strength for it, either, for opening his heart to someone that could disappear in the blink of an eye.

“I just want to see you happy,” Margaret says, her voice soft and sympathetic, and Matt struggles to keep his face straight and unaffected. “You deserve it, you know. Even if you think you don’t.”

Matt can’t reply, can’t get the words past the lump sitting thick in his throat, so he just gives Margaret a quick nod and a tight smile. She knows him, better than anyone else in his life, so it’s enough for her.