Always the Bridesmaid. Nina Harrington
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do the other bakers start work? Or have they already left for the day?’
The crease between Amy’s brows tightened. ‘Other bakers?’ And then the penny dropped. ‘Oh, I see what you mean. Sorry to disappoint you, but there is only one baker at Edlers, and you’re looking at her. Trixi and her pal handle the shop counter, but I’m on my own in the kitchen.’
She tilted her head to look at him, paused, and then nodded with a wide grin. ‘You thought there was a whole brigade of professional bakers working here, didn’t you?’
‘You…are the only baker?’ Jared waved in the direction of the curtain leading to the shop area, the astonishment in his voice only too apparent. ‘You made all that food yourself?’
Amy held up both her hands and wiggled their fingers up and down. ‘With my very own, very wrinkly hands.’
‘That’s impressive. And all the more reason why I should take on this extra work and leave you to do what you clearly do best. My admin team is used to event planning; they’d be happy to help.’
‘Maybe. But not if you have questions about details this late in the day. And I thought we discussed that last night? That, sir, was not the deal.’
He bit his lower lip. Busted.
She took pity on him and pointed towards the small table.
‘Sit. I drink coffee. Espresso. But there is tea and water if you want it. The bathroom is through there, and Trixi is going to be too busy to bother you. And there is always cake if you get the nibbles.’
‘Thanks; I’ll stick with the coffee. Anything else, boss?’
She made a face and tried not to smile, tapping her clipboard instead as a distraction. ‘The second person I couldn’t get hold of is the photographer, who is not answering the number Clarissa has. He’s probably out working on another wedding, but his office is supposed to be open on Saturdays. He’s on page two of the list.’
‘No problem. Leave it to me.’
‘Oh, actually, there is one more thing.’ Amy pressed her lips together, fighting back laughter, and pretended to study her list. ‘You can take your sunglasses off now.’
For the next hour or so Jared juggled two mobile phones, a landline, and a dodgy wireless connection on his laptop—all set against the background clatter and chatter of a room which at times was more like a railway station than a working kitchen.
Just as he checked off an item on what seemed like a never-ending list, the back door would open and a stream of youngsters wearing chefs’ overalls carrying the logos of famous restaurants from all over the city would saunter in, to collect trays of food for their dinner service.
What amazed him was that not only did Amy know each of them by their first name, but she also looked happy to stop what she was doing and go over their order and discuss the food. And laugh. Nattering in French, German, Italian or Spanish, as needed. A couple of times she even dived into the shop area to select another of the round chocolate cakes, or wrap another loaf to increase the order.
It seemed relentless.
And then there was the baking. Every time he looked up Amy was pulling tray after tray of sweet smelling food from the ovens.
If there was ever a one-woman show, he was watching it. And he had thought his office was busy.
It was almost a surprise when he looked up to find her wandering over to his table with a tray of coffee and some tiny pastries. Jared leapt to his feet and took the tray from her hands as she collapsed down into a hard chair and dropped her head back, eyes closed.
‘Is it always like this?’ he asked.
She flicked open her green eyes and looked at him across the table. ‘I’ve had to work harder than I have ever done in my life to build this business. There are some excellent bakers in this city who have been training for years. I have to offer something special. And I’ve only been open two years. That’s not a long time in this world.’ She laughed. ‘I carry the battle scars to show for it.’ Amy stretched out her arms so that Jared could see the burn marks from wrist to elbow.
He gasped. ‘That’s horrendous. From the ovens?’
‘Hot baking sheets. My uncle Walter calls them campaign medals. All part of the job. I knew what I was getting myself into before I started.’ Then she laughed again, and picked up a fragment of flaky pastry filled with cinnamon-scented cream, before passing the plate to Jared. ‘Besides, do you think all the top chefs have time to make their own strudel?’
‘What about all those round chocolate cakes that have been going out? Surely they can make those?’
She put down her coffee cup and glared at him. ‘Are you referring to my Sachertorte, Mr Shaw? That is a secret recipe handed down through generations of the Edler family. Direct from Vienna, you know.’ Her hands wrapped around the coffee cup she was focused on. ‘I should warn you. There is a definite risk involved in allowing that cake past your lips.’
‘A risk?’ He smiled back, suddenly losing all interest in the contents of Lucy’s pink box.
‘Oh, yes. I have several customers who claim that they are addicted to it. No other chocolate cake will do! I would hate to get you hooked on the best. How would you cope when you go back to New York?’
‘You don’t deliver?’
‘Only within a ten-mile radius of where you are sitting.’
‘Well, I can see that could be a problem. Although…’
She tilted her head towards him and smiled as her eyebrows lifted.
Jared stared her right back. ‘I take risks for a living, Miss Edler. Part of my job is looking for the next challenge.’ He paused, his eyes still locked on hers, before speaking in a low voice. ‘Bring it on.’
The crinkles at the corners of her eyes smiled back. And the background noise in the room around them was blocked out by the sound of his heartbeat. He felt as though the rest of the planet did not exist. That they were floating in space. Just the two of them. Separated from the world. Together. How had that happened?
Then a very real and loud human voice broke the glass wall.
‘Amy! Time to head upstairs. The gals are here. See ya later!’
She turned her head away from Jared to reply to Trixi with an, ‘Okay.’
The spell was broken.
‘Sorry, but my flat will be out of bounds for the next hour or so. Trixi is using my shower.’ Amy gathered up the coffee cups and poured a glass of cold water for them both, her eyes focused on anything apart from Jared. ‘Back to work. Would you mind talking me through the list while I make a few extra loaves? That would be great!’
Jared nodded in reply and instinctively moved his chair across, next to the table where Amy was working, suddenly keen to be close to this woman. He stretched out his long denim clad legs, and was about to ask her what table decorations were when something heavy and loud fell onto the floor above their head. Jared the builder wondered if the floorboards were original, and if they were likely to have Trixi falling through to join them at any minute.
A voice called out from the ether. ‘I’m okay.’
Jared looked up at Amy, who was shaking her head.
‘Now I am intrigued. Why is the lovely Trixi using your bathroom?’
Amy sighed and carried on working the ball of dough.
‘Trixi lives at home, and the shower in their flat hasn’t been working for weeks. Their landlord always finds some sort of excuse as to why it can’t be repaired.’
Jared nodded. ‘I know the type only too well. He’s stalling. It’s never going to happen.’
‘Correct.’