Wedding Cake Wishes. Dana Corbit
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Two
Caroline glanced up from the drawer where she’d been mentally cataloging baking tools only to find that the two cake decorators she’d met earlier were studying her just as intently.
“You’re Trina Scott’s daughter, aren’t you?” the redhead named Margie asked, squinting as if she hadn’t quite placed her.
“Yes, I am.”
Come to think of it, Logan had introduced Caroline only by her first name when he’d updated the staff on his mother’s condition and on changes at the bakery. After that, he’d slipped off to his mother’s office with the excuse of learning the accounting software. Well, at least one of them could avoid curious glances from the staff.
Figuring it was time to take charge, Caroline stepped toward the stainless-steel counter where the women sat on stools, working on their masterpieces. “Do you know my mother?”
The women looked at each other and laughed.
“Do we know her mother?” Margie asked her cohort as she spread chocolate buttercream frosting over a sheet cake.
Their laughter was enough to make a person nervous.
The stout brunette named Kamie paused from her task of stretching a sugar dough called fondant over a three-layer yellow cake. “Even if we didn’t already know Trina since…oh…second grade, we would have known her from here at the shop.”
“Oh. Right.”
Her mother probably spent more than her share of time at Mrs. Warren’s business since moving back to Markston. Caroline could only hope that it hadn’t been so much time that she had been tempted to share family stories.
Margie shook her frosting-covered spatula at Caroline. “You’re the one who’s decided not to marry.”
“I—” Caroline frowned. Definitely too many stories. She needed to establish professional employer-employee boundaries with the staff here…and fast.
“You sure messed with your mother’s and Amy’s matchmaking plans before they realized they were targeting the wrong bride,” Kamie said, chuckling. “But they figured it out, didn’t they? They got your sisters matched up just right.”
Her face felt like it was on fire. She needed no reminders of those humiliating matchmaking events, where the two moms had tried to set her up first with Matthew and then with Dylan. It didn’t matter that she’d never planned to marry or even that she was thrilled that both of her sisters had found love. She still couldn’t help feeling sensitive over all of that rejection.
The decorators were staring at her, curiosity painted all over their faces. If someone asked her if she was married to her career, Caroline was sure she would die of embarrassment. What was she supposed to say now? That she and her career had divorced? It wasn’t anyone’s business, any more than anyone needed to know that her choice not to date was less about her feminist leanings and more about a broken heart.
Caroline braced herself, waiting, but the two women were suddenly studying something behind her. She didn’t have to turn to know that Logan was back there, witnessing the whole humiliating exchange. The tingling at the back of her neck gave her enough of a hint.
“Just thought I’d check in and see how the cakes were coming along.”
Logan leaned against the wall just inside the kitchen doorway, his arms crossed. His words were innocuous, but his jaw was tight, and his fingers pressed too tightly into the snug-fitting cuffs of his short-sleeve polo shirt. His words were layered with meaning, as well. It couldn’t have been clearer that he thought the decorators should spend more time decorating cakes and less time looking for information on Caroline’s personal life.
Margie must have gotten the message because she bristled. “They’re coming along just fine, Mister Warren.”
“Well, that’s great to hear, Margie.” He put as much emphasis on her first name as the decorator had on his title since she’d avoided using his given name. “We’ll all have our work cut out for us with Mom out of commission.”
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Kamie said in a banal tone.
Caroline couldn’t help staring at Logan. Had he really just stepped in to defend her? Inexplicably, a memory from last Christmas sneaked into her thoughts. It was one of Logan with chilly rain plastering his flannel shirt to the wide expanse of his back as he hefted an ax to take down his mother’s massive Christmas tree.
What was wrong with her? She couldn’t be flattered that he’d come to her rescue when she had every right to be offended. She was no damsel in distress any more than Logan was a knight in shining armor. Or Paul Bunyan.
“Things are going great out here,” Caroline said to fill the uncomfortable silence. “How’s everything in the back office?”
“It’s a slow start, but I’ll figure it out.”
The two women, who seemed to be making a point of not looking at Logan, exchanged a look.
“Of course you will,” Caroline couldn’t help saying. Whether Logan should have stepped into the conversation or not, she could see that it had put him in an uncomfortable position with two of the employees on the first day. The least she could do was be gracious over his sacrifice if he would have to deal with that awkwardness. “There’s a learning curve to working with new software.”
“Hopefully, the hill won’t be too steep. I didn’t bring my climbing gear.” He chuckled at his own joke though no one else joined him.
“You know I could give you a few pointers—”
Logan raised his hand to stop her. “Thanks, but I’ll figure it out.” He turned back to the employees. “Well, carry on, ladies.”
Without waiting for a response, he returned to the office but closed the door only halfway.
“Sorry if we were too…er…invasive,” Kamie said as soon as he was gone, and her partner nodded her agreement.
“Thanks.” Caroline almost wished they’d apologized to Logan instead.
“We’ve just heard so much about your two families since your mom moved back to Markston that it’s hard not to get caught up in the stories,” Margie said with a shrug. “Especially the matchmaking part.”
Caroline slid a glance toward the open office door, from where Logan had to be able to hear the conversation. Whether he’d denied it or not, he’d guessed that their mothers had been trying another one of their matchmaking ambushes. Could he have been right? She hated admitting that she suspected it, too, but she hated even more that her palms dampened at just the thought of it.
“Well, it’s good that you’ll be here helping Logan,” Margie began again. “He’ll need it.”
Again, Caroline’s gaze darted toward that open door, and she was even sorrier this time that Logan could overhear them. Okay, she’d doubted his abilities herself when her mother had said he would be operating the bakery during his mother’s recovery, but she hated that no one seemed to be in his court.
“Logan would have had this place in shipshape in no time. With or without any help.”
“Of course,” Kamie said.
Her comment must have surprised the women as much as it had Caroline because both gave her guarded looks before turning back to their cakes. She told herself her small show of support was only to help Logan establish himself in a position of authority so he could manage the business. At least, that was the only way she could explain it.
Caroline returned to her own task of familiarizing herself with the kitchen tools. After she closed the last drawer, she glanced up at the clock and stepped down the hall to the office. Through the crack in the door, she could see Logan crouched over his mother’s laptop and tapping keys at an angry pace. He must have sensed her presence, because he turned