Always the Baker, Finally the Bride

by Sandra D. Bricker

  “So? What’s the difference?”

  “That tiny seat,” Sherilyn declared, wielding a pointed finger at the chair. Turning her hand, she added, “And this enormous butt. Never the twain shall meet!”

  Emma’s blood pressure shot up, and her ears began to ring. “Put that massive butt into this chair right now, Sherilyn Drummond, or I will fling you over my shoulder and carry you inside. Is that the way you want to do it? Because I will!”

  “Fine.”

  Sherilyn pouted at her as she stepped out of the car and wedged into the wheelchair. Emma groaned as she pushed the chair through the arch and into the hospital.

  “Her water broke a while ago, and her contractions are about four minutes apart,” Emma instructed as a male nurse moved into position behind the wheelchair. “Her husband has paged Dr. Caldwell, and they both should be here very soon.”

  Emma snagged Sherilyn’s purse from her arms. “I’m going to give them your insurance information while they get you settled. Is there anything you need?”

  Sherilyn nodded.

  “Okay.” Emma squeezed the nurse’s arm, and the wheelchair came to a stop. “What is it?”

  “If I can’t get my hands on some of that fudge Pearl was telling us about—”

  “And you can’t.”

  “Right. But remember that girl from Rhode Island? She got married in the courtyard, and her husband works at the zoo?”

  Emma’s eyes narrowed. Curious, she cocked her head slightly. “Loretta?”

  “Right! Loretta.”

  “You . . . want me to . . . call Loretta? Why?”

  “Oh, no. But remember that wedding cake you made for them? It was cheesecake, but it was all chocolate?”

  “Y-yeah. What about it?”

  “I need some of that.”

  Emma groaned. “Go ahead,” she told the male nurse, and she tapped his arm a couple of times.

  “Something chocolate, then,” Sherilyn called over her shoulder. “I don’t care what. But I really want something—”

  The doors closed behind them, muffling the rest of Sherilyn’s plea.

  “—chocolate!!”

  Emma’s Oh-You-Better-LOVE-Chocolate Cheesecake

  Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

  9-ounce package of chocolate wafers

  1 tablespoon sugar

  6 tablespoons melted butter

  Grease a 9-inch springform pan.

  Blend the chocolate wafers until they are finely ground.

  Mix wafer crumbs with sugar and add the melted butter.

  Press the crumbs onto the bottom of the pan.

  Bake for about 5 minutes until the crumbs are set,

  and put aside to cool.

  10 ounces semi-sweet chocolate, broken into pieces

  4 8-ounce packages cream cheese at room temperature

  1 ½ cups granulated sugar

  ¼ cup unsweetened cocoa powder

  4 eggs

  Melt the chocolate until smooth, and cool slightly.

  Blend cream cheese, sugar, and cocoa powder with mixer.

  Add eggs and continue to mix.

  Mix in the warm chocolate.

  Pour filling over the crumb crust and smooth the top.

  Bake for approximately 1 hour, until the center appears set.

  Remove from oven and cool on a wire rack for about

  10 minutes.

  Run a cool knife around the sides, cover,

  and refrigerate overnight.

  ¾ cup whipping cream

  6 ounces semi-sweet chocolate, broken into pieces

  1 tablespoon sugar

  Stir ingredients over low heat until smooth, and cool slightly.

  Pour over the center of the cheesecake, out to about ½ inch

  from edges.

  Chill for 2 hours, then let stand at room temperature for

  1 hour before serving.

  4

  It’s a girl.”

  “That’s great,” Jackson muttered into the phone. “Really, that’s great. What time is it?”

  “I don’t even know,” Emma told him. “It looks like the sun is yet to come up though.”

  Jackson squinted at the alarm clock on the cherry nightstand. “Almost four thirty,” he told her. “Will you go home and get some sleep?”

  “Can’t,” she said. “Although I’d love nothing more than a couple of aspirin and eight hours of uninterrupted sleep, I promised Sherilyn I’d stay a while. And I’ve got some interns coming in at nine to help us finish up the cookie favors for the Bristol bridal shower.”

  “Fee can’t handle that?”

  “Probably, but you know . . .”

  Jackson did know. Perfectionist that she was, Emma never seemed to leave anything she’d started to someone else for completion.

  “I have a client in the afternoon and I need to go through the paperwork for when Kat arrives on Tuesday to take over for Sherilyn while she’s on maternity leave. Then—” Emma cut herself off and smiled. “Sorry. I’m kind of chasing myself, and the sun hasn’t even come up yet. I’m going to run home for a shower and a change of clothes,” she told him. “Want to meet at the hotel for breakfast around eight?”

  “Sounds good,” he replied. “I’ll see you then.”

  It seemed like he had just set down the phone and rolled over when the 6:45 alarm went off. After a hot shower and a shave, Jackson wrapped a thick terry towel around his waist and stepped into his closet. Gray dress slacks . . . the charcoal-striped Van Heusen shirt his sister Madeline had given him for his birthday . . . black leather suspenders . . . underwear, T-shirt, socks, and shoes. After laying it all out on the corner of the bed, he returned to the bathroom. He’d just spread a dollop of Colgate on his toothbrush when the phone rang, and he hurried into the bedroom to pick it up.

  “Sorry to bother you, boss.”

  “Susannah, don’t be silly. What’s up?”

  “I think you’d better flip on the local news. Channel Eleven.”

  He found the remote and aimed it at the flat screen on the wall as he asked, “Why? What’s going on?”

  “I’m pretty sure your day has just been ruined.”

  Jackson grimaced when he saw his own face occupying a small square behind the reporter.

  “. . . and as we reported on our early morning broadcast, it seems that Jackson Drake, the owner and creator of Roswell’s Tanglewood Inn, is about to sell the unique wedding destination hotel to Allegiant Industries, the conglomeration that took so many Buckhead and Alpharetta small businesses out of commission just last year. More to follow on our noon broadcast right here on 11-Alive. Now back to the Today show with Matt Lauer.”

  Jackson flipped off the television and sat down on the edge of the bed.

  “The phone should start ringing in a few minutes,” Susannah told him. “What is our official response?”

  “No comment.”

  “And your unofficial word? Are you really selling the hotel, Jackson?”

  “Can we talk about this when I get there?” he asked.

  “Certainly.”

  “And will you call downstairs and make breakfast reservations for Emma and me before you leave for the office?”

  “Of course. For what time?”

  “About eight.”

  “I’ll see you afterward then.”

  Not if anyone else sees me first, I’m afraid.

  He’d so hoped to have the opportunity to discuss the offer in detail with Emma before the word spread that he might be selling The Tanglewood. The faces of so many of his employees flashed across his mind’s eye, and their varied-but-similar reactions evoked a shake of his head to clear them away.

  He unfolded his cell phone and looked up Rod Bingham’s phone number.

  “Hey, buddy,” Bingham greeted him. “Do you have an answer for me?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “What do you mean? Of course it matters.”

  “Well, since the local news is reporting that I
’m already selling out to Allegiant, I don’t know that it does.”

  “Oh.” Bingham cleared his throat. “Did that leak out?”

  “Did you catch the news this morning?”

  Emma looked up from her tea and smiled at Jackson. Her heart fluttered a bit at the sight of him in those leather suspenders she liked so much. He had a long, lean angle to him: broad shoulders and chest, tapering to a narrower waist.

  “Yes,” she told him. “And so did Sherilyn.”

  Jackson groaned as he slipped into the chair across from her.

  “It’s far too early in the day for you to look this tired, Jackson. Maybe you should turn around, go home, and start again.”

  “If only.”

  She reached across the table and took his hand, caressing it with her thumb. “How about we go one better? You go up to your office and close the door behind you. I’ll have some breakfast sent up for us and meet you there in ten.”

  He looked unsure in that fleeting moment before Pearl emerged from the kitchen and made a beeline for their table. Suddenly he nodded and popped up from the chair.

  “You’re a genius,” he muttered, squeezing her hand.

  “Jackson, wait!” Pearl called after him, but he was well on his way across the lobby.

  “Pearl,” Emma sidetracked her. “Can I have a breakfast tray sent upstairs to Jackson’s office? We’re having a working meeting.”

  Pearl’s focus remained on Jackson’s trail as she replied, “Sure. For how many?”

  “Just the two of us.”

  “The usual?”

  “Please.”

  Emma took a final sip from her teacup and wiped the corner of her mouth with the linen napkin. She stood up and grabbed her bag from the back of her chair.

  “So is it true?”

  Pearl had always reminded Emma a bit of an elf with her silver pixie haircut, but this morning she appeared stoic and quite serious. Her starched white uniform hadn’t yet been splattered with anything from the kitchen, and her striking indigo eyes flashed with questions Emma knew she couldn’t answer.

  “Pearl,” Emma said, patting the woman’s arm. “Nothing has been decided yet. It’s no more than an offer on the table at this point. Jackson hadn’t even had time to seriously consider it before someone leaked half-truths to the press. Believe me, if there’s anything to tell, Jackson won’t waste any time in telling it.”

  After a long and silent moment, the woman sighed. “Orange?” she asked.

  “Pardon?”

  “Juice. Orange or grapefruit?”

  “Oh. Yes, orange.”

  More of the same awaited her on the trek from Morelli’s, through the lobby, and to the elevator. The restaurant hostess, two guests, and the front desk manager all inquired about the report on the morning news. She felt almost relieved to find Susannah’s desk unoccupied, and she slipped into Jackson’s office and closed the door behind her.

  Leaning against the door, she sighed. “Well, you’ve opened up quite a can of worms around this place, haven’t you?”

  Jackson chuckled. “Long walk through the lobby?”

  “Very. Breakfast should arrive in a few minutes.”

  “Any danger it will be poisoned?”

  “Only a little,” she teased. “Why don’t we sit down and talk it over? What have they offered, Jackson?”

  He pulled a leather notebook from his briefcase and opened it on the desktop. Reading to her from the notes he’d made, Jackson provided an overview of the buyout offer. Emma tried—and failed!—to disguise her astonishment at the generous numbers.

  “Jackson!” she breathed.

  “I know. Turns your head, doesn’t it?”

  Emma nodded. “Dreaming about living in Paris for a year is one thing. Having it financed with a fortune to spare is quite another. Where’s your head on this, now that you’ve had time to think it over?”

  “I’m torn. On one hand, there’s the—”

  A knock at the office door cut his thoughts in two, and they fell silent as Rafael, one of the wait staff, wheeled in the breakfast cart.

  “Morning, Rafael,” Emma greeted him. “How are you?”

  “Good morning.” His cool tone announced that he had either seen or heard about the morning news broadcast.

  Emma’s gaze remained fixed on Jackson’s, and his on hers. Not another word was spoken until Rafael headed for the door.

  “Thank you, Rafe,” Jackson offered.

  Nothing in return.

  Once the door closed, the corner of Jackson’s mouth twitched.

  “All rightie then,” Emma said with a sigh. She removed the aluminum dome from Jackson’s plate and slid it toward him. “Shall we?”

  Jackson examined the plate thoughtfully and smirked. “You first.”

  “Thanks for coming in,” Emma announced as she handed out aprons to the three young ladies lined up on the other side of the rectangular stainless steel worktable. “Today’s project is preparing the guest favors for twenty-five women attending a bridal shower in the courtyard tomorrow afternoon.”

  Three sizes of sugar cookie rounds lined both counters and two rolling workspaces. Plastic boxes and precut ruffled pink ribbons sat in stacks on a four-level stainless steel shelf.

  “If you’ll look over at Fee,” she instructed them, “she’s going to demonstrate how to assemble each cookie cake before placing it inside a plastic box and tying it shut with one of the ribbons.”

  Three fresh, eager faces turned toward Fee.

  “Each cake consists of three tiers,” Fee told them. “The bottom two are made up of three layered cookies, like so. And the top layer is just two of the smallest ones. Now, one of you will be assigned to each of the three sizes so that you can ice together individual tiers with lavender royal icing, like this.”

  Spreading frosting between each of the cookies, she demonstrated.

  “And remember, no finger-licking!”

  The girls shared chuckles before turning their attention back to Fee.

  “After all of the tiers are assembled, we’ll focus on constructing a perfect three-tier cake out of cookies, like this one. The top layer will be frosted, and a pastel-green sugar flower will be angled on top, like this. And two pink pearls will adorn the cake like this. Any questions?”

  When no one piped up, Emma rubbed her hands together and smiled.

  “Excellent!” she said. “Why don’t you get started while I speak to Fee privately for a moment.”

  Fee removed her apron as she followed Emma to her office.

  “Should I close it?” she asked, nodding at the door.

  “Please,” Emma replied. “Sit down for a second.”

  Before Emma could even find her chair, Fee sat down and peered over the top of her square black glasses, lightly scratching her tattooed arm. “It’s true then. Jackson’s selling the hotel?”

  Emma sighed. “You saw the news.”

  “Nah. I don’t get up that early, you know that. Ramon down in the laundry told me. Do I need to start job-hunting?”

  “No.” Emma closed her eyes and massaged her temples for a moment. “This company started out talking to Jackson about franchising the whole wedding destination hotel idea. Then the guy makes this offer to buy the hotel, and it came out of left field. Jackson didn’t even have a chance to take a breath before it was all over the news that he’d agreed to sell.”

  “And?”

  “And that’s all,” Emma assured her. “No decision has been made. But the minute he decides, either way, I promise that you and Sher will be the first to know.”

  Fee scowled for a moment as she thought it over. “You have a preference?”

  “About selling?”

  “Yeah.”

  Emma sighed. “Of course. But it’s not my decision. This is all Jackson, and I’ll support him in whatever he decides.”

  “Not exert even the teeniest bit of influence?” Fee prodded. “You know. So we can all keep our jobs.”

>   “I’m not in this, Fiona.”

  Fee hopped up from her chair with a nod. “Good, then.”

  “That’s all?” Emma asked with a chuckle.

  “Well, yeah. You’ll let me know when there’s anything else to know, right?”

  “Yes. Right.”

  “The petit fours are complete and in the fridge,” she said, shifting gears so quickly that Emma’s head spun a little. “When the cookie favors are complete, I’ll start the miniature cheesecakes. After that, Sean and I are meeting our realtor to check out a house in Sandy Springs, then I’m headed over to the hospital to see Sherilyn and to take a gander at the little guy.”

  “Girl.”

  “Right. Girl. Want to come along?”

  “I wish I could, but I’m finalizing the shower menu, and I have a ton of stuff to do before Audrey and Kat arrive on Tuesday.”

  “Right. Your dress. Kat’s coming too? That’s new.”

  “Oh, you didn’t know? Kat’s filling in for Sherilyn for a few weeks while she’s home with baby Isabel.”

  “You know, she’s left me a couple of messages, but I haven’t had time to call her back. Is Russell coming with her?”

  “No. He’s filming a movie in Brazil, and she’s coming off some big jewelry show in New York.”

  Another nod. “It will be good to see Kat again.”

  “Yes, it—” Fee was on her way before Emma could complete the thought. “—will.”

  Emma guessed that was the simplest discussion she or Jackson would have with anyone in the hotel on the subject of the possible sale of The Tanglewood. The relief hadn’t had a chance to settle in when—

  “Emmy, where’s that fiancé of yours?”

  Her heart tapped out a beat against her temples at the unexpected arrival of her father.

  “I want to talk things over with him,” Gavin announced as he filled the doorway to her office. “Has he got an attorney to walk him through the sale?”

  “Hi, Daddy,” she said, kissing his cheek.

  “You can’t be too careful when those corporate raiders come swooping in, Emmy.”

  “Jackson used to be one of those corporate guys, Daddy.”

  “Yeah. That’s right. Still. Can’t be too careful. Jackson in his office?”