by Anne Hagan
Hannah’s surprise turned to confusion. Jamie had never complimented her cooking when they’d been together.
“Hey,” Morgan said softly, “don’t let us keep you. We need to get to class anyway.” The last bit, she choked out, the confidence she’d shown with Garrett West earlier, gone.
“Yeah, I guess I better get going before I cool down too much.” She said all of that while staring again at Hannah. Laying a hand on Hannah’s shoulder, she continued, “It was nice to see you. Been too long. Don’t be a stranger!” Then, she was off.
When she was out of earshot, Morgan asked, “Your ex, I take it?”
“Jamie. Yeah.”
“She’s missing you...missing you or very interested in no one else having you.”
“Huh? No. Why would you think that?”
“Hannah, she was flirting with you.”
“That’s just Jamie. She’s always like that.”
Morgan didn’t buy it. She changed tacks. “How...how do you feel about her?”
“Me?” Hannah said. “I’m not interested in her. I haven’t seen or heard from her in more than a year even though I go to school so close by.” She dropped her own shyness then and took Morgan’s hands in her own. “You’re the only one I’m interested in.”
Morgan, quiet, just stared at Hannah.
Hannah met her eyes and found she wasn’t able to look away. Her head spun and her mouth went dry but she felt compelled to finish what she’d started. She leaned in and brushed Morgan’s lips with her own, gently at first, like the day at the Christmas tree show, and then, when Morgan responded by tugging Hannah closer with their still linked hands, a bit more deeply.
Despite the slight chill in the November air, Morgan’s kiss was soft and warm and Hannah started to lose herself in it. She dropped the other woman’s hands and wrapped her arms around her body instead, pulling her into her own form as tightly as she could.
Morgan laced her arms around Hannah’s waist through her unzipped jacket and parted her lips, letting Hannah’s tongue in to deepen their kiss. She moaned when she felt Hannah’s tongue probe her own, tentatively at first and then with a little more confidence.
Hannah was about to lose herself in the moment when the sound of a car pulling in at the far end of the lot broke her out of her trance and Morgan too.
They stared at each other for several seconds, both heaving for air, trying to start breathing again.
Morgan, recovering first, said, “So much for taking it slow. What do we do now?”
Hannah shook her head. “I’m so sorry. I...I don’t...we’ll go back to taking it slow until after the cake competition. We need to focus on that right now.”
Chapter 13
Monday Afternoon, November 30th
Bistro Cher, Zanesville, Ohio
Morgan eyed table ten, across the dining room as she took drink orders at table four. The bistro wasn’t big but it was dimly lit. She was pretty sure Frank hadn’t spotted her and, if he had, he didn’t recognize her in the dim light.
She almost missed him herself. He was wearing a suit and tie instead of his usual athletic warm-ups. The older man he’d been seated with was well dressed and distinguished looking too. She hadn’t seen him in the bistro before and it certainly wasn’t a place Frank frequented.
At the service well at the bar, she whispered to Alyssa, the bartender, “Did you see that older man that came in with a younger one a couple of minutes ago?”
Alyssa shook her head. “No. Why?”
“Just wondering if you knew who the older one is?”
Alyssa took a step back and scanned the room. “What table?”
“Ten.”
The bartender peered in that direction for several seconds then shook her head. “Can’t really see over there to be sure but it looks like it might be Marc Sable.”
“Who’s that?”
Alyssa quirked an eyebrow. “Sable Construction? They build big developments all over the state and all those richey-rich homes around here like most of our customers live in.”
At Morgan’s blank look, she went on, “His picture’s up all over town, out in front of just about every big new build.”
“Oh.”
“You waiting on him?”
“No. Not if I can help it,” Morgan said as she placed the drinks on her tray and got ready to return to table four for their food orders.
In the kitchen, Morgan turned in her order and then made her own salads for the table. It was slow yet - not quite time for the dinner rush - and the kitchen staff could have made them but she liked to do all of the culinary things the bistro would let her do, herself. She didn’t want to be in the dining room hovering around with the other waitstaff anyway.
She wanted to avoid catching Frank Davila’s eye. Frank hadn’t been there for Espy’s birth and hadn’t had much of an interest in their daughter’s life since then. In the year and a half since she’d been born, support payments from him had been sporadic at best, as he hopped from job to job. He’s either on a job interview right now or he’s doing a lot better than he’s let on to the courts, she thought.
The door from the dining room swung in hard as Jonathon, another server, came through. He carried a tray at a tilt just in front of himself, a nearly empty wineglass perched on it. He plucked the glass off and set it on the dish washing station then turned toward her.
“Look what I’ve done.” He moved the tray to reveal his white linen apron, covered with the stain of red wine.
“You need to get that off. It will soak through and ruin your shirt.”
“Too late,” he whined as he untied the back of the apron and looped the neck strap over his head revealing his stained white shirt below. “I got it all over the customer too.”
Morgan’s eyes grew large. Jonathon had the section that included table ten. “Whaa...what customer?”
“The young, perfect looking guy at table ten.”
She swallowed hard. “Frank.”
“Wait; you know him?”
“You could say that, yeah.”
“Morgan, I apologized to him but you’ve got to go and smooth this over for me. For that matter, just take the table. He was pretty upset and he’s just too pretty to be that upset for too long. It will mess up that beautiful face.”
She ignored his observations. “No. It’s your table.”
“I can’t. Just look at me. I’ve got to run home and get a fresh shirt. It’s bad enough ‘Frank’ saw me like this; if the GM does...”
“He’s not your type,” she interrupted.
“Who’s not?”
“Frank. He’s straight. Trust me.”
“Oh, everyone is straight...until they’re not.”
Morgan gave in to temptation and rolled her eyes at that but Jonathon didn’t catch it. He was already headed to the time clock to punch out.
“I can’t do it,” she called after him. He pretended not to hear her as he clocked out and headed toward the back door.
MORGAN DELIVERED THE salads to table four, then glanced over at table ten. Frank wasn’t there. The older man sat alone.
She trudged over to the table, plastered on a smile and addressed him. “Mr. Sable?”
He looked up at her and smiled. “Yes. Do I know you?”
“No sir but some of the staff here knows you. I’m Morgan. Jonathon, your server, asked me to look in on you. He feels terrible about what happened to...to your dining companion.”
Marc Sable waved a dismissive hand. “I think your coworker took the brunt of it. Frank’s just in the restroom, staring into the mirror, I’m sure.”
She stifled a grin and gave him a polite nod instead. “Have your orders been taken, sir?”
“Yes, thank you. I assume Frank will want another glass of wine though.”
She steeled her shoulders. “Coming right up.”
BY THE TIME ALYSSA uncorked a new bottle and poured what Frank had originally ordered, he was back at his table. “I don’t su
ppose I could get you to deliver that to table ten,” Morgan pleaded with the other woman.
The bartender gave her a tight-lipped smile as she shook her head. “You know the rules My place is right here.”
Morgan put the single glass on a small serving tray and carried it carefully across the room. She avoided Frank’s eyes as she set the glass down in front of him.
Marc Sable spoke up. “I took the liberty of ordering you another glass,” he told Frank.
Turning to her, he said “Thank you Morgan.”
“Morgan?” Frank leaned to his left and looked at her profile closely as she stood, turned more toward Sable than him. “What are you doing here?”
Anger welled inside her. She did her best to suppress it as she indicated her attire with a sweep of her hand. “I work here.”
“Wow. Okay, so I didn’t know that.” His voice was more amazed than put off by her demeanor.
“Obviously you two know each other,” Sable said.
“Marc, this is Morgan Barber. She’s my daughter Esperanza’s mother.”
Morgan was taken aback at the formal introduction and the politeness with which it was conveyed.
“Ah that charming little girl! Now I see who she really favors.”
“Pardon sir?”
“Oh, Frank has shown me several photos. A lovely child. She looks just like you,” he told her.
“Is that right?” she asked Sable as she shot a quizzical look in Frank’s direction. His smile was smug now but he said nothing.
“He’s a very proud papa,” Sable said for the younger man.
“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT, Frank?” she screamed into her phone as she sat in her car in the restaurant parking lot.
“That was dinner with my employer.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it!”
“Listen Morgan, I’ve got a great job now. A real job that pays good money. Not like construction for all of those little companies I was working for.”
“So! What’s it to me?”
“Well, for one thing, you’ll get the support you’ve always got CPS hounding me for.”
“I don’t have them hounding you or doing anything else, for that matter. There’s a court order Frank. They do that all on their own!”
She heaved out a heavy breath. “What pictures have you shown Sable?”
“I, uh...I had a couple. Three or four.”
“No you don’t. I’ve never given you...damn it! Have you been going around behind my back, talking to my mother?”
His silence told her all she needed to know. “Stay away from my mother and stay away from my daughter!”
“Our daughter,” he reminded her, his voice cool. “I ran into your mom a while ago. She told me that I was the best thing that had ever happened to you and that she wished we were still together, raising Esperanza as a family.”
Morgan bristled. She had no right!
“I told you,” he continued, “I have a great job now. I’m ready to settle down, be the man of the house and take care of my family. If you would just give it a chance, I’m sure we can work it all out and you’ll see just how great it all can be. I can give you two a real home.”
“You’ve never even shown any interest in having your visitation rights. Now you want to be a family? No thanks. I don’t need a man to be the big provider!”
“What I’m hearing is, you still haven’t decided that you prefer men over women.”
“No, what you’re hearing is, go to hell!”
“Come on Morgan. I know you’re still living with your mom. I know...let’s just say, I know how bad that can be. We could have a house with a yard and a swing set...you wouldn’t have to work a job. You could do whatever you wanted.”
“I’m in school Frank, chef’s school. I don’t need your help. I have a plan and it’s working for me; for me and Espy.”
“Espy? Oh, right...Interesting way to shorten such a beautiful name. It was my grandmother’s name, you know.”
“Don’t try to change the subject!”
His tone softened. “I think it’s great that you want to be a chef. You were a great cook already...when we were together before. You could still do that. I could even help you pay for it.”
She held the phone away from her ear and stared at it then she pushed the button to hang up.
Chapter 14
Tuesday Afternoon, December 1st
Hannah’s Bakery
Morelville, Ohio
“Your little trees look so good,” Hannah told Morgan.
“Thanks.” The other woman didn’t even look up from where she sat in front of a butcher block work table, putting together decorated Christmas trees made of fondant and candy embellishments.
“Everything okay?” Hannah asked.
At first, Morgan didn’t respond but, when she realized the baker was still standing by, waiting for her answer, she glanced up and, giving her a small smile, she said, “Sure. It’s fine.”
The timer on the convection oven pinged. Hannah scurried to it and drew out the final tray of cupcakes. They smelled heavenly of orange and spice. She breathed the scent in deeply as she moved the tray to a rack to cool.
They’d debated for several minutes about how many cupcakes to make before settling on sixty, but Morgan went right along with Hannah’s idea to do each of the five dozen in a different flavor to contrast with the rum raisin of the cake show piece they’d finish in class on Wednesday.
She laid a hand on a cake from the first batch. Still a little warm to the touch. “They’re not ready for me to frost yet,” she said.
Morgan glanced around at her. “We’re probably too early baking them. They’ll be getting stale by the benefit.”
“We are,” Hannah agreed. “These are a test run today to make sure just what I need to do to get the ones we need for Thursday in all the flavors. I’ll sell these in the shop tomorrow.”
Morgan shot around at that. “I can’t come back here tomorrow and do all these decorations again for Thursday. I have to work tomorrow afternoon.”
Hannah waved a hand at her. “I know. I’m going to have you put those trees in a sealed container. I’ve got the rest. I’ll do the final batch on Thursday. Faye can help with the shop if I need help until closing but Thursday’s after the morning rush when she’s here anyway aren’t usually busy.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes,” she said, nodding.
Morgan turned back to her task without another word.
“DONE?” HANNAH ASKED an hour later.
“I think so. There’s sixty plus a few extras, just in case.” She answered without even looking at Hannah. Instead, she carefully arranged the little trees in a container.
“Are you sure everything is okay? You seem...seem sort of out there, as Dana says, today.”
“Fine. Just concentrating.”
“You’ll be able to help with the delivery on Thursday?”
Morgan shrugged one shoulder. “Why wouldn’t I? We’d be in class anyway, right?”
“True. I assume Chef has arranged some way for all the cakes to get to the convention center.”
“Let’s hope,” Morgan said. “Ours would be a monster for either of our cars. I guess we’ll find out tonight.”
Hannah put the lid on the container and picked it up off the counter. “One cool, dry storage place coming up,” she joked.
Morgan didn’t even crack a smile. “I need to get going,” she said as she gathered her things.
“Oh. Okay. I guess I thought we could hang out for a while, maybe an early supper with Mel and Dana before we headed to class.”
“Can’t. I have to get home. See you at school.” With that, she walked out the door without a backward glance.
Hannah stared after her, sure something was wrong.
Chapter 15
Thursday evening, December 3rd
Muskingum County Convention Center
The two young women stood by, waiting as one c
ake after another came out of the box truck, onto the lift. Theirs was the next to the last to be unloaded. When they were called, they rode the lift back up to the open maw of the semi-trailer and walked toward the back.
That far in, it was hard to see if the sculpted cake had suffered any damage in the couple of miles it had been transported from the school to the convention center but Hannah held her breath until they hoisted it onto a rolling cart with the help of the driver and moved it out to the lift, in the light.
She inspected it over the 15 seconds it took to get from the front of the trailer, down to the loading dock on the slow-moving lift. Pristine. She let out a heavy breath then. “Now we just have to get it down that hallway and onto the display table, intact,” she said to Morgan who stood on the other side of it, inspecting it also.
When the lift gate stopped, both women took hold of the cart and started to roll it off the gate, onto the dock. The last team waiting helped them to balance it down the short ramp before jumping onto the lift themselves. “Do you want us to wait and help you get yours off?” Morgan asked them, a tremor in her own voice.
“No thanks,” Randy waved a hand toward the door. “You go ahead.”
They rolled their creation slowly down the long hallway to the tree display area where room had been made for the cakes in the area that had been filled with tables and chairs near the concessions a couple of weeks before.
Chef Tomas directed them toward one of the two empty stands then stood back as Sandy and her partner John moved over to help them lift it from the rolling rack to the display table.
“Wow,” Sandy said. “I’ve been watching you two in class but, up close, this is really something.”
“Thanks,” Hannah said, blushing. “Morgan did most of the carving.”
“And we both did the fondant and sugar work,” Morgan said.
“Hannah is always too modest,” Sandy said then smiled at her friend. “Now, let’s do this. On three?”
