Take the Cake Page 2

  Michael mumbled his thanks as his coffee appeared on the table, then looked up in surprise as a cupcake on a small plate followed. It was the woman he had been watching earlier.

  “You look like you needed it,” she said, indicating the cupcake with a glance. An individually wrapped nicotine patch had been stuck in the icing on top of the cupcake.

  “What gave it away?” His voice felt rusty from lack of use.

  “The way you’ve been playing with that sugar packet was a pretty good clue,” she replied, making him realize he was holding it in his fingers as he would a cigarette.

  “Thanks,” he said, feeling awkward and out of practice. “I didn’t expect—”

  “That’s when random acts mean the most, when they’re not looked for.” Waving off his thanks, she smiled, and he found himself smiling back. “Enjoy, and maybe we’ll see you here again sometime.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed.

  She gave a quick smile, and then went back to work, stopping at the stereo to turn up the music slightly.

  Michael watched her leave and sipped at his coffee. Regarding the cupcake in front of him for moment, he swiped a finger through the frosting and tasted it. Delicious. Suddenly feeling hungry, he began to eat. He still had no words, but for the first time in a long time, he felt less empty.

  Chapter 2

  Sins and Salmon

  Michael switched off the alarm clock with a slap of his hand and burrowed his head back into his pillow. If he could get back to sleep, he wouldn’t have to think about his ongoing failure to write. The ambient noise of the city filtered into the apartment, and he heard a door bang in the apartment upstairs. He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to shut out the day.

  Then the phone rang.

  With a muffled oath, he threw the pillow aside and sat up, shuffling over his king-sized mattress toward the bedside table where his cell phone was shrilling.

  “What?” he snapped as he slid the handset open to take the call.

  “Good morning to you too, asshole,” replied a droll voice, accompanied by a short bark of laughter.

  “Alistair, I see you’ve decided to give up on charm as a negotiating tool.”

  He hadn’t heard from his editor for a few days, and that had been long enough for him to relax and hope that Alistair had found another project to occupy his time. Now he realized with an inward sigh that the problem wasn’t going to go away any time soon.

  “Well, it wasn’t working, so I figured it was time to move onto well-meaning abuse.”

  “Noted.” Michael waited, but Alistair said nothing. “So was there a purpose to this call?”

  “Just to say that it’s looking like it’s going to be a nice day for writing.”

  “Maybe if there’s something to write about.”

  “You’ll think of something.”

  “No pressure or anything,” Michael replied in a dry tone.

  “I’m not about to throw fuel on the fire by saying you’re contractually obliged.”

  “Thanks,” Michael said.

  “Or that our suppliers are starting to put the heat on,” the voice went on.

  “Alistair,” he warned.

  “And your legions of fans are emailing, wanting to know when the next book is due,” Alistair continued, ignoring the interruption. “I mean, what sort of editor would I be if I pulled that kind of shit with one of our most successful authors?”

  Michael sighed.

  “Just because everyone is up in arms because you won’t do any interviews—you know how they all eat up that ‘reclusive author’ bullshit. It just makes them want to talk to you more.”

  “Thanks, man. All this is really helping,” Michael said at last.

  “Am I annoying you yet?”

  “What, you mean you could tell? And there I was trying to suppress the rage,” Michael said.

  “Hey, how about we make a deal? Rather than you talking to me on the phone, you could maybe write it down?”

  “You’re a subtle man, Alistair.”

  “Wait, I can see something developing here,” Alistair continued, warming to his theme. “You could write it down and, fuck me, Forrester, you could probably get whole sentences out of this situation.”

  “Alistair, I’m warning you,” Michael began.

  “Or you’ll what? Do nothing? Right, like that isn’t what you’ve been doing for the last few months,” Alistair replied in a goading voice.

  “Fuck you,” Michael growled and disconnected the call.

  He sat thinking about the conversation and sighed, feeling angry and tired all at once. He was months behind schedule, and Alistair’s goading had hit a little too close to home. He flicked the cell phone back onto the bedside table, ignoring it when it slid off and fell onto the floor with a clatter. One of his pillows had fallen off the bed during the night, but he couldn’t be bothered getting it. Rolling onto his side, he grabbed the other pillow and tried to get comfortable enough to go back to sleep. He sighed, a loud exhalation in the quiet bedroom, and tried to relax. He realized he was clenching his jaw and yawned, trying to stretch out the tension.

  A car horn blared downstairs, followed by a shouted obscenity. His eyes snapped open and he stared at the ceiling. Clearly, it was not going to be his kind of day.

  ~~~

  Kate glanced at the clock and returned to her book. It wasn’t often that she woke up before her alarm, but rather than try to go back to sleep, she had picked up the book she had been reading the night before. She propped herself up into a more comfortable position against her pillows and turned the page, feeling delightfully self-indulgent.

  When the alarm finally shrilled, she closed her book with considerable reluctance and got up. She didn’t bother making the bed. It was a Friday; chances were more than good that she would end up having a few drinks after work and get home late. With that in mind, she showered and changed into her customary jeans and shirt, but stopped to stuff her favorite leather boots, a bottle of perfume and her lip gloss into a bag. She grabbed a bottle of water and left the apartment. She’d have something to eat when she got to the shop. A look at her watch revealed that she was running ahead of schedule, so there might be time to sit down and think about the day ahead before the customers started to arrive.

  Wren made her way toward the Village, her eyes raking over the closed faces of the other passing pedestrians, wondering where inspiration for her quote of the day was going to strike. Rounding a corner, she nearly tripped over a small dog hunched over, doing its deed. Wren exchanged a sympathetic grimace with the dog walker, who was trying to fish out a plastic bag and control the other six dogs on leads at the same time.

  “No good deed goes unpunished,” the dog walker muttered in Wren’s direction, bending down to clear away the dog’s leavings.

  Wren stepped aside and kept walking. Her stride faltered for a moment as inspiration struck, and then she grinned and continued on her way.

  Kate crossed the street and looked up to see the familiar figure of Wren waiting for her under the red canopy.

  “How do you do it?” Kate called out as she drew near. “I’m ahead of schedule and you still beat me.”

  Wren shrugged. “Gotta keep you on your toes somehow, boss.”

  “Wren, don’t call me boss.”

  “Sorry, boss.”

  Kate unlocked the door and wedged it open to let in the fresh air, flicking on lights and overhead circulating fans.

  Wren walked past her, shrugging off her coat and putting her bag away in the lockable cupboard in the kitchen, then returned to pick up the chalkboard.

  “Got your quote of the day?”

  “Sure have. Thought it up on the way to work this morning. How about you?”

  “I’m feeling good; I just saw the David Beckham billboard on the way in this morning. What’s your inspiration today?”

  “Dog shit, believe it or not.” Wren laughed as she picked up the chalk.

  Kate shook her head and flicked
on the coffee machine before going into the kitchen to turn on the ovens to preheat.

  Wren hung the chalkboard up outside, and then began to check the condiment supplies on each table.

  Kate looked up from the coffee machine as Wren started to fill up the water jugs. “Have you had breakfast?”

  “Not yet,” Wren replied.

  “I haven’t either. Grab some of the savory muffins from yesterday and zap them in the microwave. They’ll be nice with a bit of melted butter and a coffee.”

  “I’m on it.”

  ~~~

  Michael looked for his phone and saw it on the floor by the bed. He stooped to pick it up, and then hesitated. Not many people called him these days. He’d been keeping to himself and had little to say, certainly less to write. He picked up the phone and stood weighing it in his hand before tossing it onto the bed and leaving it there.

  It had been another late night with nothing to show for it. He had stared blindly at his laptop screen for what felt like hours, and then at the television that had deadened his mind just as much. By the time he had killed a few more hours surfing the internet and decided to turn in, it was already after midnight. He was going to have to get into a better routine. He thought back over the previous evening and snorted to himself. In terms of his social life, he had nowhere to go but up.

  Stopping in the kitchen, he swigged back a glass of juice, and then made for the door, deciding to get something to eat while he was out. He just had to get away from the damn computer for a while. He’d find a bookstore; perhaps there was comfort to be found in someone else’s words if he couldn’t find any of his own. He jogged down the staircase, and then opened the front door and stepped outside, squinting against the daylight. Tugging his baseball cap out of his back jeans pocket, he flicked it out and tugged it into a comfortable position, and then slid his sunglasses on against the sun’s glare before he started walking.

  The moment Michael stepped into the bookstore downtown, he knew straight away that he had made a mistake; there were books everywhere, all written by people who probably had much better luck at stringing a sentence together these days than he did. He wandered up and down the aisles, picking up and replacing books at random, then scowled as he saw a display stand of his novels. There seemed to be no escape from the damn things. He left the store and kept walking.

  ~~~

  “Hey, boss, are they nearly done?”

  “Sure. Get the board.”

  “What do you think this is?”

  Kate looked up to see that Wren was already holding it. “Well done. Okay …” She dictated and Wren laughingly wrote it down.

  “Beckham’s always good for inspiration,” she commented.

  “Like that’s what Armani was aiming for,” scoffed Kate as she picked up the tray and followed Wren out into the front of the store.

  Today’s offering was a lush selection of red velvet cupcakes with white chocolate liqueur frosting, white chocolate curls, and a ripe raspberry nestled into the moist folds of sugar. Wren waited as Kate arranged the cupcakes, and then propped the mini chalkboard on a small easel to stand beside them, proclaiming:

  I feel a sin coming on.

  Wren looked at the cupcakes and then back at Kate. “Nice one,” she said.

  “I thought so,” Kate agreed.

  ~~~

  “I don’t know where you went in your head this morning, boss, but what the hell did you put in those cupcakes?”

  Kate was in the midst of decorating and looked up in concern. “What, no good?”

  Wren snorted.

  “Yeah, right, like that’s gonna happen. They’re practically walking out the store. Just tell me those ones there are going to be ready soon.”

  “Sure, give me a few minutes,” Kate replied in an absent voice, popping a raspberry into her mouth. She went back to piping on the frosting on the last cupcake, then put the icing bag down on the counter. Popping another raspberry into her mouth, she chewed as she sprinkled the white chocolate curls over the cupcakes, arranging them just so, as she hummed to herself, feeling very content.

  She was putting the latest batch of cupcakes in the display cabinet when she heard Wren greet someone and walk out from behind the counter to hug the newcomer. She looked up to see a slim woman laugh and hug Wren with an ease that spoke of a long friendship. Wren took the woman by the hand and hauled her over to the counter.

  “Boss, this is Emily, my friend that I’ve been telling you about.”

  “Wren, don’t call me boss.” Kate laughed, and reached out to shake Emily’s hand. “Hi, Emily, you’ll have to excuse Wren and me; we have a bit of a routine going.”

  “It’s nice to meet you at last,” Emily answered.

  Kate assessed her in a glance and liked what she saw. Emily seemed quiet and unassuming, her face was open and honest, her smile reached her eyes, and her mouth looked like it smiled often. Her dark, curly hair framed her face, and she had a warm complexion that was in direct contrast with Wren’s.

  “Emily is looking for some part-time work at the moment, and I thought she’d be perfect,” Wren supplied.

  “Have you done retail or hospitality before, Emily?” asked Kate.

  “Some, but not a lot,” Emily replied. “I’m a quick study, though, and I’ve got a strong work ethic.”

  “She’s kept up with me in the past,” added Wren.

  “And that’s saying something,” said Kate. “Which is good enough for me. Welcome to the team, Emily. When can you start?”

  “Uh,” Emily looked taken aback. “Well, I guess now is as good a time as any.”

  “Great,” Kate praised. “Wren will show you the ropes, and I’ll get some paperwork for you to fill out.”

  “Okay,” Emily replied, and then gave a small laugh. “That was all really easy.”

  “Hey, it’s just synchronicity.” Kate shrugged. “I needed more help, Wren knew you, so it’s all good. Besides,” she added, “any friend of Wren’s is a friend of mine, so I think we’ll make a great team.”

  “Not that I want to shoot a job offer in the foot or anything, but are you sure?” Emily ventured. “I mean, I’ve never had a job interview quite like this before.”

  “I’ve never really hired anyone before,” Kate replied, then turned to Wren who was about to protest. “You don’t count. You told me you were going to work here and it would be fabulous, so I didn’t have much say in it.” Kate gave Wren an affectionate grin as she glanced at Emily. “She’s also vetted everyone else that’s worked here too. I trust her judgment, but screw us over and you’ll be dealing with her.” She nodded toward the smaller woman standing by her side.

  Wren opened and closed her mouth, then turned to Emily. “It’s true,” she admitted. “I just showed up and convinced Kate that she needed me and that’s how we’ve worked ever since.”

  Kate gave Emily a wry smile. “She calls me boss, but sometimes I really have to wonder who’s in charge,” she said.

  “Tell me about it,” agreed Emily.

  “So, boss, while I show Emily around, what say you have some lunch?”

  “You trying to get rid of me?” teased Kate.

  “Hell, no, you’re too good a cook, but you ought to eat something besides frosting.”

  “Okay, I’ll make something up.”

  “How about you eat the bagel I’ve got ready for you in the refrigerator over at that table,” Wren supplied, pointing at a table near the front door.

  Kate stared at her. “When the hell did we get married?”

  “Please, like you could afford me.” Wren snorted.

  “Wren, whoever gets you will be one lucky guy, but I just hope he knows what he’s taking on,” retorted Kate over her shoulder as she went to get her lunch.

  ~~~

  Michael kept walking. He paused at a travel agency, looking at the posters and prices, for a moment entertaining the thought of getting out, getting anywhere, getting all the way far, far away. Going someplace w
here nobody knew what he did, what he used to do, what he was supposed to be doing. He sighed and walked on.

  It was early afternoon before he paused at the intersection, waiting for the light to change, and actually took a good look around to get his bearings. He slid his sunglasses down his nose and squinted around at the buildings. Where the hell was he? He knew he was in the Village again, but he must have gotten turned around somehow; his sense of direction felt skewed. Peering ahead, he recognized the red canopy flapping in the breeze, halfway down the next block.

  The bakery—he knew where he was now. He walked along the block, and then stood on the other side of the street, staring at the shop front; he wasn’t sure what he was doing. He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced up the street. It was just a bakery, no big deal, so why did he feel like it was? He looked at the chalkboard hanging up out in front of the store, sporting a new quote for the day. At least someone was able to write. He crossed the street for a better look.

  The road to hell is closed for repaving.

  He grinned and his feet made the decision for him as he stepped inside.

  ~~~

  Kate walked out of the kitchen with her bagel on a plate, eyeing it with trepidation. “Wren, do you think you made this one big enough?”

  “Relax, boss. I made them for us at home this morning.”

  “Maybe, but it’s the size of a Volkswagen!”

  “You work very hard, so you need a good lunch,” said Wren with a placid smile. “Now go sit, and I’ll bring you a coffee.”

  Kate nodded and went to find somewhere to sit; she knew better than to argue with Wren.

  Michael stood in the doorway of the café, his eyes darting toward the counter. There were two women standing behind the coffee machine, one in the process of teaching the other how it all worked. They were deep in conversation but looked up with ready smiles at his approach. He studied their features but neither was the woman that he had spoken to a few days before, and he was surprised to feel a stab of disappointment.