‘Why don’t you head to some of the quieter streets? There are some lovely little shops around Godstall Lane, opposite the cathedral. Maybe something will leap out at you.’
Cat took a sip of her espresso and sighed. ‘Maybe. Haven’t you got anything I can borrow?’
‘Probably,’ Sadie said, sounding even more amused. ‘Shall I bring a couple of tops, just in case? I assume you can manage jeans.’
‘Yes,’ Cat replied dryly. ‘I can manage jeans. What time are you heading into the city? Fancy grabbing dinner before we head to Seb’s?’
‘Sure,’ Sadie replied. ‘I’ll aim for eight-thirty, okay?’
‘Perfect,’ Cat said. ‘You can sleep over if you want to, in my spare room.’
There was a slight pause. ‘I’d better not. I still have a lot of biscuits to ice, remember? They need a steady hand so it’s probably safest if I drive and get an early start on the icing before Lissy comes home.’ Sadie hesitated again, as though she knew it wasn’t what Cat wanted to hear. ‘I’ll sleep over next time, I promise.’
Cat couldn’t help laughing. ‘We’re not nine years old, Sadie. Of course it’s okay – it sounds very sensible to me.’
‘It sounds boring,’ Sadie grumbled. ‘But I really do need a clear head and a steady hand. Sorry.’
She sounded it too: contrite and apologetic and keen to make up for it. That was what eight years of Daniel had done, Cat thought, her mood darkening. But she kept her thoughts to herself. ‘Honestly, it was just an idea. Forget it.’
Once the call had ended, Cat sipped slowly at her coffee. She’d never liked Daniel, hadn’t liked who Sadie became when she was with him, and over the years they’d instinctively given each other a wide berth. When Sadie had revealed the extent of his betrayal last year, during a heartbroken late-night telephone call with Cat, her opinion of him had hit rock bottom. As far as she was concerned, the sooner Sadie moved on from her ex, the better. With a bit of luck Castle Court might provide her with a new romantic opportunity as well as a new career, Cat thought, finishing her coffee and getting to her feet. And with a bit more luck it might do the same for her.
*
Seb’s was still full when Cat and Sadie arrived just after ten-thirty that evening. The windows were thick with condensation and the sound of laughter mingled with a grimy bass beat that made the floor vibrate as they got nearer.
‘Are you sure it’s tonight?’ Sadie murmured as Cat pushed back the door and they were enveloped by a cloud of moist, cinnamon-scented air.
Cat paused, scanning the crowd for a familiar face. She was sure she had the right date – Jaren had definitely said this Saturday. ‘Maybe we’re early,’ she whispered back to Sadie. She cleared her throat and raised her voice. ‘Come on, let’s get a drink.’
They hadn’t got more than halfway to the distressed stainless steel bar when a shout rang out. Cat and Sadie turned to see Jaren waving at the back of the room, standing at the far side of a rectangular table that had a large ‘Reserved’ sign in the middle. ‘Cat, Sadie! Over here.’
There were several others at the table already, Cat noticed as they picked their way over to Jaren; were they shopkeepers waiting for the crowd to get the message and go home? Or were they paying punters, which was equally possible? Cat did her best to study each face in turn, committing them to memory so that she wouldn’t embarrass herself when she ran into them out and about in Castle Court over the coming months.
Jaren beckoned them over again and beamed at them as they approached. ‘Welcome to Seb’s!’ he cried as soon as they slipped into empty seats around the table. He waved expansively at the strangers. ‘Meet Cat and Sadie, everyone. Say hello!’
A chorus of greetings rang out. Once she was seated, Cat took the opportunity to discreetly scrutinise the others. A tiny blonde with a slight hint of a Scandinavian accent introduced herself as Elin the chocolatier and seemed friendly, although she sat so close to Jaren that Cat decided she might as well have been sitting in his lap. Were they an item? Cat wondered, remembering her suspicion that Jaren had been flirting with her a few days earlier. Perhaps she’d misunderstood, she thought with a flicker of acute disappointment.
An older but no less glamorous dark-haired woman at the table seemed considerably less eager to meet Cat and Sadie; her name was Cherie and her lips were pursed as Jaren introduced them.
‘Oh, I visited your shop today,’ Sadie burst out, just as Cat began to say something similar. ‘What marvellous cakes you sell.’
The woman did not smile. ‘I suppose you were checking out my stock, working out which ideas you could steal for your own shop,’ she sniffed.
Cat blinked and she saw Sadie’s eyes widen. Jaren’s smile drooped a bit. ‘Come on, Cherie, we talked about this. Sadie and Cat aren’t running a patisserie or even anything remotely like that. They’re selling biscuits, remember?’
Cherie looked as though she didn’t believe a word of it. Her lips pressed into an even tighter line and her eyes flashed with barely contained annoyance.
‘It’s nice to meet you,’ Sadie said politely, and Cat didn’t dare make eye contact with her friend for fear she might giggle. ‘Your cakes were delicious – thank you. I think we ate them far too fast to think about stealing your secrets, though.’
Jaren coughed and glanced hurriedly at the two clean-cut, twenty-something men seated at the end of the table. ‘Speaking of stealing, make sure you don’t leave anything valuable lying around when these guys are nearby. They’re total magpies, as the front of their shop suggests.’
‘Guilty as charged,’ one of the men said amiably, with an unmistakable American twang. ‘I’m Andrew and this is Earl – we run The Bus Stop diner downstairs.’
Earl nodded and pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘You might have noticed it – the big yellow bus part is kinda hard to miss.’
Cat grinned; she liked them already. Sadie leaned forwards. ‘I hope you don’t mind my asking, but is it a genuine school bus or a replica?’
Andrew adopted an expression of wounded pride. ‘A replica? Don’t insult us, ma’am.’
‘It’s one hundred per cent genuine,’ Earl added. ‘Stolen from outside a school and shipped all the way over from the States.’
‘Those kids can’t get to school now but the good people of Chester have benefited, so it’s – what’s the phrase you use—?’ Andrew wrinkled his nose in thought, ‘— swings and carousels?’
Sadie laughed. ‘But how did you get it inside the Court?’ she pressed. ‘It’s far too big to have been driven in.’
Andrew and Earl exchanged glances, then Earl leaned towards Cat and Sadie. ‘Promise me you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone else, not least the authorities.’
Intrigued, Cat nodded. ‘Our lips are sealed.’
Beside her, Sadie did the same. ‘We promise.’
‘We beamed it over using the USS Enterprise,’ Earl said solemnly.
Andrew shook his head. ‘Ignore this moron. Actually, our house elf did all the hard work.’
Cat grinned. ‘Impressive. Mine can’t even make a decent cup of tea.’
‘But if we didn’t have a house elf and had to do it the old-fashioned way,’ Andrew went on, tapping the side of his nose, ‘we might take it apart in our back yard and transport it here in pieces.’
Earl took a swig of his drink. ‘Then we might rebuild it, bit by bit, to create an impossible-to-ignore centrepiece that customers would love.’
Cat gazed down at the brightly lit bus that dominated the front of The Bus Stop. It showed no signs of having been broken apart and reassembled; she was half-tempted to believe it had been done by magic. ‘Wow. That’s pretty dedicated.’
‘What can I say?’ Earl said, spreading his hands in a modest shrug. ‘We’re marketing geniuses. Or our house elf is.’
Everyone laughed but Cat made a mental note to talk to the two Americans more. Maybe they’d have some advice for her and Sadie about promoting Smart Cookies. S
he’d make a point of avoiding Cherie, though; the woman hadn’t stopped glowering since they’d arrived.
‘Let’s see, who else is there you need to meet?’ Jaren mused, glancing around. ‘Oh, the guy behind the bar, spinning the bottles like he’s a New York mixologist, is Seb. He’ll come and say hi as soon as he’s finished trying to impress you.’
Cat followed his gaze and saw a rugged, blond-haired man in his mid-thirties juggling bottles as he mixed cocktails in front of an adoring female audience. He wasn’t breathtakingly good-looking, Cat thought – nowhere near as classically handsome as Jaren – but he exuded confidence and a charm that suggested he was used to getting plenty of attention. And if Jaren was off the menu then Seb might turn out to be exactly the kind of distraction she wanted, she decided.
‘And that’s all we have for now.’
Jaren’s voice cut into Cat’s thoughts, just as Seb caught her studying him. She dragged her attention away fast and focused on the Dutchman as he continued to talk. ‘Greg will be over as soon as the bistro closes and by that time, the last stragglers from here should be on their way and we can start enjoying ourselves.’
‘But you don’t have to wait until then to order a drink,’ Elin said, pushing a cocktail menu across the table. ‘Go for something exotic – Seb loves an opportunity to show off.’
‘I bet he does,’ Cat murmured, so quietly that only Sadie could hear. She studied the menu and waited until the other shopkeepers had begun to chat amongst themselves to risk another glance across at the bar. She was both amused and unsurprised to find the bar owner’s eyes were still fixed on her. They shared a long, appraising look.
The exchange didn’t escape Sadie’s notice. ‘Down, girl,’ she said in an undertone, as she peered at the menu over Cat’s shoulder. ‘Tonight is meant to be business, not pleasure, remember?’
Cat watched Seb pour liquid into a cocktail shaker and add a handful of ice. ‘I don’t see why we can’t mix the two – we’re all grown-ups here,’ she said. ‘See anyone here who ticks your boxes?’
‘No,’ Sadie replied and Cat detected a faint hint of irritation. ‘And even if I did, I wouldn’t act on it. Isn’t mixing business and pleasure one of the reasons you left Paris?’
Cat took a deep, calming breath; she loved her best friend very much but sometimes – sometimes – she wished she would let her hair down and relax. And she had no idea of the real reason Cat had fled from Paris – none at all. ‘No, I left because I very nearly had a nervous breakdown brought on by stress and being overworked. Pleasure had nothing to do with it.’
Sadie flushed. ‘I know. Sorry, I’m just – I don’t want anything to spoil things for us here, that’s all.’
‘Nor do I,’ Cat replied. She dredged up a crooked smile. ‘But a bit of window shopping isn’t going to bring about the end of the universe, is it?’
‘No,’ Sadie admitted, glancing across at Seb. ‘And I must admit I do see the appeal. He’s certainly good with his hands.’
‘An excellent observation,’ Cat said, grinning. She glanced across at Jaren, who was deep in conversation with Elin. ‘It looks as though Castle Court has a couple of fringe benefits. Shame Earl and Andrew are spoken for, though. I like a man who can make me laugh.’
Sadie frowned. ‘You mean—’
‘Definitely a couple,’ Cat said firmly. ‘Didn’t you catch the chemistry?’
‘Oh,’ Sadie said, looking back and forth between the two Americans. ‘No, I missed that completely.’
‘Trust me,’ Cat said, ‘they only have eyes for each other. Now, shall we mingle a bit?’
Sadie nodded. ‘That’s what we’re here for. I’ll take the Harry Potter fans and you sweet-talk Elin.’
Cat did her best to ignore a burst of laughter from the bar; Seb was apparently funny as well as talented, and waited for a lull in Elin and Jaren’s conversation. ‘Are you from Switzerland, Elin?’
The blonde woman nodded, her neat bob glistening beneath the lights. ‘Yes, from Geneva originally, although I have lived here for almost seven years now.’ She studied Cat’s dark curls and olive skin. ‘And you?’
‘Spanish dad and English mum,’ Cat said. ‘No one ever believes I’m Chester born and bred, especially since my parents now live in Castile.’
Elin glanced sideways at Jaren. ‘You’ll fit right in at Castle Court – it’s a real melting pot of different nationalities. Greg is from Marseille and Seb is South African.’
‘Really?’ Cat said, mentally ticking the box marked Interesting background on Seb’s information sheet in her brain. ‘Well, maybe that isn’t so surprising – food is one of the oldest ways to bring people together, after all, and Castle Court is very much foodie heaven.’
‘That’s true,’ Jaren said, smiling. ‘So what brings you here, Cat? Apart from a love of food.’
Cat hesitated. She didn’t really want to go into the reasons she’d abandoned her career but, on the other hand, she wanted the other business owners to take her seriously, to recognise a fellow food professional in their midst. So she summoned up a casual smile. ‘I was head chef at La Perle de Paris for three years. But I wanted a change of pace, and Sadie and I had always dreamed of running our own business, so this seemed like the perfect opportunity for both of us.’
Elin stared at her and Jaren whistled. ‘You were in charge of the kitchen at La Perle? But that’s a Michelin-starred restaurant – one of the most famous in the world.’
‘We had two Michelin stars, actually, and were on course for a third,’ Cat replied with a modest shrug. ‘But all good things come to an end. It was time to move on.’
Jaren fixed her with an admiring look. ‘La Perle’s loss is our gain, for sure.’
Was it Cat’s imagination or did Elin’s eyes narrow a fraction? She couldn’t tell. ‘Biscuits are a lot easier than cordon bleu,’ Cat said. ‘And the hardest part is the decoration, which is Sadie’s department. She’s the talent, not me.’
Her self-deprecation seemed to work; Elin smiled. ‘It sounds to me like you’re a dream team. I look forward to tasting some of your work.’
‘Just don’t tell Cherie where you used to work,’ Jaren advised, lowering his voice. ‘She had her eye on your shop, before you swept in and snapped it up, and she’s paranoid you’re going to take some of her trade away. The truth is that Castle Court has room for both businesses – they’re really quite different.’
Cat glanced across at the dark-haired woman, who was stabbing at her phone screen with a ferocity that suggested a lot of bottled-up anger. ‘I’m sorry that she was disappointed over the shop but she’s got nothing to worry about product-wise. The cakes Sadie and I bought today were top class – Smart Cookies isn’t in competition with Patisserie Cherie.’
Elin let out a sigh. ‘She was the same when I opened my shop – accused me of muscling in on her customers. But she’ll warm to you eventually.’ Her lip twisted in wry amusement. ‘It’s only taken five years for her to change from outright hostility to a nod of greeting each morning.’
A shadow fell across the table. Cat looked up to see Seb gazing down at her. ‘Hi, I’m Seb de Jager. Nice to meet you.’
‘Cat Garcia,’ she replied. ‘Good to meet you too – I’ve heard a lot about you.’
Seb raised a quizzical eyebrow and glanced at Jaren. ‘From this guy? Don’t listen to a word he says. He’s just jealous because the beautiful women all prefer to hang out with me.’
He winked at Elin, who blushed and looked away, making Cat wonder whether they had some kind of history together. It wouldn’t surprise her; food and romance were inextricably linked and it was an industry where passions often ran high, especially in a microcosm like Castle Court.
Jaren shook his head in pity. ‘When will you learn that they only talk to you because they feel sorry for you, Seb?’
The other man grinned and turned his attention back to Cat. ‘Seen anything you like?’
He meant the cocktail list, Cat re
alised, but she had no doubt there was a double-edged meaning to his words. ‘Maybe,’ she said lightly. ‘I haven’t had time to have a good look yet.’
His green eyes fixed on her. ‘Take your time. I’m in no hurry.’
Cat had no idea how long they would have stared at each other if the door hadn’t opened. Seb frowned and looked up. ‘We’re closed.’
A bearded man in a beanie hat and a duffle coat stuck his head into the room. ‘Even to me?’
Seb grinned. ‘Adam! I’m always open for you.’
He went over to pull the newcomer into a bear hug.
‘Adam Tucker,’ Elin explained, noticing Cat’s curious expression. ‘He supplies half the businesses in Castle Court with honey.’
‘Oh,’ Cat said, watching the man take his coat off and hang it on the stand behind the door. ‘Does he work for a wholesaler?’
Jaren shook his head. ‘He’s a beekeeper. Although the bees are dormant at this time of year so he sidelines as a gardener.’
Cat frowned. ‘Isn’t that seasonal too?’
‘Don’t ask me,’ Jaren said, shrugging. ‘All I know is that if I need asparagus in December, Adam is the person I go to.’
Cat studied him with renewed interest. It wasn’t likely she would need asparagus for Smart Cookies but honey was a different matter; she added it to her biscuit dough and much preferred to use locally sourced produce where she could. ‘He sounds like a good man to know.’
Almost as though he’d heard her, Seb made his way back towards Cat, with Adam in tow. ‘Sorry, that was unforgivably rude of me,’ he said. ‘Let me fix you a drink on the house to make up for it.’
Cat shook her head. ‘There’s no need.’ She picked up the cocktail menu and studied the drinks listed there. ‘I think I’m in the mood for something unfussy – can you manage a simple Bombay Sapphire and tonic or is that too pedestrian for you?’
Seb’s expression didn’t even twitch at the barb. ‘Single?’
Cat tutted in mock-derision. ‘Double.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘That wasn’t what I was asking.’
Snowy Nights at Castle Court Page 4
