Chapter Eighteen
“You did it babe! Do you have any idea how much business we’re going to get from this event?”
Noelle chuckled, feeling nothing but relief now that the event was almost over. Though she was a guest at the wedding reception, her gaze kept straying to the cakes she’d baked and designed. “Please tell me you weren’t soliciting business for our bakery at your sister’s wedding. Alyssa will ring your neck if she finds out.”
Paul waved his hand dismissively. “She’s too busy playing princess for a day. Besides, I didn’t have to say a word about the bakery. Once people walked into the banquet room and saw your work they were amazed. And when they tasted them, they were sold. People were asking Alyssa and Craig who the baker was. I already have a few clients lined up who’d like to do a consultation with you.”
“The bakery isn’t even open yet. It was tricky enough making the cakes in your kitchen, but if I have to fill more orders, those renovations to our bakery will need to be finished soon. I need a larger kitchen to bake in.”
Paul slung his arm around Noelle and handed her a glass of champagne. “Relax, I’m handling this. The contractors assured me the renovations should be done by the end of next week. After that the decorators will come in and do their part. We’re still on track to have the shop open for business at the end of the month.”
“You’re amazing, Paul.”
He leaned over and kissed her on top of her forehead. “No, you are. Without your creations, none of this would be possible.”
It was hard to fathom six months had gone by since she’d moved out of James’s penthouse. The first week, she’d lain in bed, crying most of the time, refusing to eat and cursing herself for believing someone like James was capable of loving anyone but himself. She’d been fooled by his smooth charm and those few tender moments they’d shared.
A couple weeks after she left the penthouse, Paul paid her a visit. She was surprised to learn he’d handed in his resignation. Horrified at the thought of Paul giving up a lucrative position over her she insisted he rescind it but he wouldn’t budge. Paul had another idea, however. He’d saved a good chunk of money over the years and was looking to invest in a business so he could be his own boss. Noelle thought that was a great idea. Someone as smart and ambitious and Paul would do well going into business for himself. It was only when he’d told her what type of business he had in mind did she balk.
Paul was looking to open a bakery. He planned on handling the operation, advertising and finance side of it, while a partner would be in charge of the actual baking and direct supervision of employees. Baking for friends was one thing, but making a living from it was crazy. She had no experience running a business, and she wasn’t used to making her confections for a large group of people. Paul assured Noelle she was indeed good enough to sell her baked goods to the public. He also pointed out her artistic experience would be useful for the specialty designs and sculptured cakes that had become a recent fad.
Simone also seemed to think it was a good idea. It was only when Simone gently reminded Noelle of her mother’s dream that she began to give it serious thought. She was quite good at putting random ingredients together to make scrumptious desserts, and she did love doing it, but she felt she needed more training in making those fantastical cake sculptures people went crazy over.
When Noelle expressed her concern to Paul, he found classes she could take to make designer cakes. It seemed he had it all planned out, right to down to a location for the proposed bakery.
When Paul wore her down with the help of Simone, Noelle agreed to his scheme, though she insisted she contribute to the startup costs. Since she had no plans to return to school, she decided to use her excess money to invest in her share of the business. After signing a contract and a handshake, they became business partners.
The site for their bakery was only a block away from Simone’s new boutique. They decided to specialize in cupcakes, designer cakes and muffins to start out, and expand as their business grew. Paul immediately started to drum up business before the store opened by sending out samples of Noelle’s baked goods.
Noelle took several cake decorating classes, from how to make a proper icing flower to how to sculpt cakes to look like anything. Most nights she practiced and tested out recipes while mapping out what would get baked on a daily basis versus what would be on special order only. Starting up a business was harder than she thought, but it kept her busy and thoughts of James at bay.
Now with the store set to open in another month, Alyssa’s wedding was the test. This was her first wedding cake…well, cakes. Alyssa had wanted three cakes, the main one, a cake for the bride and another for the groom that reflected their personalities. What she had come up with was a large cake that resembled the ball room the wedding reception was being held at, complete with a spiraling staircase with a bride and groom perched on top. It included tiny details from the painting that adored the walls to the crystal chandelier hanging over the ceiling. That of course had been no easy feat, but she’d pulled it off after literally working on it for two days straight. For Alyssa’s cake, she created a cake that looked exactly like a pink and white Louis Vuitton purse. And for Craig, she’d designed a small football field with players included.
Much to her pleasure, the guests “oohed and aahed” over her all of the cakes as if they’d never seen anything like it before. It made her happy to see all the hard work she put in was appreciated.
“I’m just glad this event is over. I barely slept for the last three days trying to get the logistics of these cakes just right.”
“And that’s exactly why you’ll need to hire a few assistants. There’s no way you can do this part on your own. I saw how much work you put in to it. And lucky for you the shop will be open next month because I just secured us a party that will put your cakes on the map.”
“Wasn’t that the purpose of this wedding? There are over two hundred people here.”
“Yes, small potato stuff. But apparently Craig’s distant cousin is some big time philanthropist who has an interest in the arts.”
“And what exactly does that have to do with our business?”
“She also owns one of the largest art galleries in the city. Apparently it was recently expanded. There’s going to be a huge grand re-opening with a lot of big names in the art world in attendance. Mrs. Fontaine, that’s her name by the way, wants you to create a cake sculpture replicating a famous piece, maybe the statue of David or the Venus de Milo. She also talked about cakes with paintings on them.”
“Are you kidding me? Working out the logistics of something like that could take longer than the actual making.”
“You know I’ll help out any way you can.”
“The last time you tried to help me, you nearly burned the kitchen down. No thanks. When is the big event?”
“End of next month?”
“Sheesh. That’s when the bakery is opening. It’s not going to give me much time to do what I need.”
“The kitchen will be ready if you need to use it. And I can place some help wanted ads in the newspaper to get you the assistance you require. “
“I don’t know much about running a business, Paul, but it seems like everything is happening so fast. You’re getting me more orders than I think I can handle, not to mention the day- to-day baking I’ll need to do for regular menu items.”
Paul squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t worry. You can do this.”
“I wish I had as much faith in me as you do.” Though she complained, secretly it pleased her to know how busy she’d be. This ensured she’d have no time to think about James and soon she’d be over him. If only soon would hurry up and get here.
“James, thank God you’re here!” Eleanor didn’t look her usual
put-together self. Her hair was slightly messy and her clothes were a bit askew as if she’d gotten dressed in a hurry. Her face bore no artifice, making her look years younger than the thirty-two he knew her to be.
He cupped the side of her face to comfort her. “Any news?”
“No, the doctors are still working on him. They’ve been in there for almost an hour. I’ve been pacing the floor driving myself crazy. I’ve probably worn my heels down an inch. I’m glad you’re here. I know how busy you are.”
“Eleanor, you’re my fiancée, where else would I be?” He kissed her forehead. “Have you eaten anything?”
“Who has the stomach to eat at a time like this?”
“You have to take care of yourself otherwise you’ll be of no use to your father. When was the last time you ate?”
“Mother and I had lunch at Pierre’s around two.”
“So tell me what happened.”
Eleanor sniffed. “Mother, Daddy and I were at the club for dinner .We were in the middle of giving our drink orders when Daddy complained of chest pains. One of the waiters who happened to be a second-year med student managed to give Dad CPR and got his heart pumping again. I was paralyzed with fear. Mother was crying hysterically and all I could do was stand there and watch. I felt so useless.”
“Try not to beat yourself up over this. It’s difficult to know how you’ll handle a situation unless you’re in it. Let me get you a cup of coffee and a little something to nibble on from the cafeteria.”
“I’m not sure if I can eat but thank you. James, what’s going to happen if Daddy dies? His company is already in trouble. Now with this—”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’ll wait to see what the doctor says first.” James looked over her shoulder and noticed Maryanne huddled in the corner looking completely lost. “Why don’t you go over to your mother and sit with her. I’ll be back shortly.” He kissed her forehead again.
James let out a sigh of exhaustion as he headed to the cafeteria. It had been close to ten when he left his office that night and his plans were to have a lengthy work out to release his stress. On his way out of the office, however, he received a call from a crying Eleanor informing him that her father had collapsed at dinner. It capped off an already shitty day—and an even shittier few months.
His new Executive Assistant Celeste was a nightmare and caused him more work than necessary. What made things worse was she seemed to be under the impression that flirting was part of the job. Celeste spent more time throwing herself at him than actually doing what he hired her for. Also, she and Stella clashed. It was a no brainer; he’d have to fire Celeste before the probationary period was up.
She was the third in a string of terrible EA’s since Paul’s departure, and James was beginning to think Paul had cursed him. Damn Paul. Why the hell couldn’t he just do his damn job and leave Noelle alone? Out of all the women he’d dealt with, why her?
Some of James’ former mistresses had been models and pageant beauties yet it had been Noelle Paul had given up a six-figure position with stock options for. James would lie awake at night obsessing over whether the two of them were together. When he imagined Paul touching Noelle, kissing her, fucking her James became physically ill. Even though it had been months, thoughts of her still consumed him.
Since Noelle left, he hadn’t taken another lover, telling himself he wanted to focus his attention on Eleanor, but he deep down James knew that wasn’t the case. He even found himself visiting the penthouse and sitting in the kitchen. Guilt flayed at James when he thought of how he’d treated Noelle. When he’d set his course to obtain his ultimate goal, he knew there would be casualties. What he didn’t realize was how great a price he’d have to pay. Despite how chaotic his life had become with her, at least his fiancée didn’t disappoint.
Eleanor was a good woman. Despite her background, she didn’t look down on people as most women in her circle did. She was beautiful, smart and unaffected by the trappings of her wealth. She appreciated the good things in life and made no secret of her expensive tastes, but she was basically a kind person. She never made catty remarks and James genuinely liked her. He wished, however, he could drum up enthusiasm for their upcoming nuptials. It was decided they’d marry the following year to give her and Maryanne time to plan the lavish wedding befitting a Harrington.
“This is what you wanted,” he chided himself softly. James forced himself to push away the dangerous thoughts that led him down the path of regret.
James bought three cups of coffee for Eleanor, her mother and himself, along with a couple of sandwiches. When he returned to the ER waiting room, Eleanor and Maryanne were taking to a doctor and holding each other. Joining them, he listened to the tail end of the conversation. “We’ll be taking him in to surgery first thing in the morning, but tonight our objective was to stop the seizures and get him into a more stable condition. Trust me, Doctor Pradesh is one of the top cardiac surgeons in the field. Mr. Harrington will be in great hands.”
“Will the stroke leave him paralyzed?” Maryanne asked, shuddering as if the very thought of it was enough to make her faint.
“We won’t know until he’s recovered from his surgery. In the meantime, we’re moving him to the Critical Care Unit. Visiting hours are over, but we’ll let you look in on him briefly.”
“I’d like to request a private room. I’m sure the family wishes to reserve Mr. Harrington’s privacy,” James spoke up.
“I’m sure that can be arranged. Do you have any more questions?” the doctor directed toward the three of them.
James looked to the two women seeing they were clearly shattered. So he took it upon himself to speak for them. “What time is the surgery tomorrow?”
“Surgery is scheduled for seven A.M.”
James nodded. “Someone will be here all night, so if you can please keep us posted with any changes in Mr. Harrington’s condition we’d appreciate it.”
“Of course. I need to go confer with my colleagues but I’ll be in touch.” The doctor shot them a sympathetic smile and patted Maryanne on the shoulder before leaving the waiting room.
Eleanor turned to James. Her expression was one of despair. “What are we going to do if Daddy doesn’t make it through the surgery tomorrow? What’s going to happen to me and Mother? How are we going to pay off—”
“Eleanor!” Maryanne shushed her daughter. “We’ll only think positive thoughts. I’m sure your father will pull through and everything will be just fine. Besides, James is here.” Maryanne shot her daughter a narrow-eyed stare that spoke in volumes. It was no secret the Harringtons were in financial straits despite the lavish lifestyle they still led. But it was clear to James. Maryanne wouldn’t admit it out loud even if no one was around to hear.
James handed Eleanor a cup of coffee. “Here, take this. It’ll calm you down. I brought one for you as well, Maryanne.”
The older woman smiled gratefully. “Thank you, James, but I’ll pass. I can’t stand the Brand X coffee they use in these places. It’s probably been sitting in a pot for ages.” She curled her lip in distaste. “Were you serious about us being here all night? After I see George, I think I’d rather sleep in my own bed tonight. He won’t even know if I’m here or not anyway.”
“Mother, Daddy is in there fighting for his life. Can’t you think of someone other than yourself for once?” Eleanor raised her voice, emitting an anger that surprised him. Eleanor, who was usually so poised, was not the type to make scenes but obviously her mother’s blasé attitude had pushed her to the edge.
“Sweetie, I know emotions are running high right now, but your father wouldn’t want us to be here all night in discomfort. James, can you take care of this?”
She made it seem like her husband was going to have a wart removed and not major heart surgery. "Of course I’ll make sure someone is here. I’ll call a driver to come for the two of you and see you home. I’ll stick around for as long as I’m needed.”
“Oh, you’re such a dear.” Maryanne patted him on the cheek. “But then again, you’re probably used to dealing with unsavory situations.”
“Mother!” Eleanor’s face turned bright red.
“What, dear? I only meant how useful it is to have someone like James around. Stop being so dramatic, dear.” She patted her perfectly coiffed hair. “I need to go to the little girl’s room. I hope to God the janitorial staff has given it a thorough cleaning.”
James barely registered much after that jarring statement. People like him. How many times had he heard that before? It became clear to him right then and there no matter how much money he had, or how many connections he made, he’d always be the bastard son born to a drug-addicted daughter of a gardener.
No matter how hard he tried to fit in, he never would.