Just Desserts

by Jeannie Watt

  “I appreciate that.”

  “Then why on earth are you thinking about quitting your job?”

  Quitting her job? Crap. Sam had obviously done some damage control for her. Wonderful. It’d be easier to simply go with Sam’s version, but Layla couldn’t bring herself to lie to her parent. Or anyone else, for that matter.

  “I didn’t exactly quit. I was asked to transfer back to Life Skills and chose to resign instead.” Okay, she could lie to her parent. She simply couldn’t bring herself to confess that she’d been fired. The word still made a knot form in her stomach.

  “You’ve already resigned? As in fait accompli?”

  Layla sawllowed, feeling shifty and hating it. “Yes.”

  “So now I have only one question,” her mother said blandly, before her voice sharpened. “Are you really my eldest daughter? And if not, what have you done with her?”

  How was Layla supposed to take that?

  “Yes, I am your eldest,” she finally said in a flat tone. “I thought you would be happy I’m trying to stretch my wings. Discover myself.” Not exactly true, but this was language her parents, children of the seventies, understood.

  “Layla, honey, you don’t have a good base for wing stretching. If you did, you’d have done it years ago.”

  “What?” she demanded, outraged.

  “It’s not in your nature to do things like this. Your father and I have discussed the matter, several times in fact, and we agree. Sam says you don’t even have a major. This is very out of character.”

  “I disagree.”

  “Honey, I think I know your character. You were color coding your clothes when you were four. Reds and pinks in the top drawer—”

  “I remember,” Layla said. And there was nothing wrong with a child organizing her clothing. It helped her find what she wanted. It did not mean that she wanted to color code every part of her life.

  “So the job is really over. You currently have no means of support.”

  “I’m going to graduate school and I have Grandma Bonnie’s inheritance, which, if you recall, she asked in her will that we spend.”

  There was a very long silence. “You’ve never in your life spent rainy day money.”

  “Maybe I’ve never seen rain,” Layla countered.

  “And what’s this about dating Justin?”

  “What?” Sam must have been on the phone within seconds of her leaving the shop. Her mother was trying to help; Layla knew that. She was also confusing the heck out of her.

  “I went out with him a couple of times.”

  “But Justin… Remember how angry he used to make you?”

  The key phrase being “used to.” Now he turned her on.

  “I thought you loved Justin.”

  “I do. He was practically a son…but he is so not right for you.”

  “It’s not like I want to marry him.” And then Layla realized one very important fact. As much as she still craved parental approval, she was thirty blinking years old and could make her own decisions—concerning her job, her future and the men she dated.

  “People change, Mom. I have.”

  “I’m just concerned about too much change in too short a time.”

  “What would be the proper length of time?”

  “I, uh…”

  Her mother trailed off and Layla said, “I’m fine. Taking good care of myself, and Sam will report back if I do anything foolish. I love you, but I have to go. Goodbye, Mom.”

  There was a pause, and then her mother said, “Do not make any rash decisions!” just as Layla hung up the phone.

  Sheesh.

  Talk about a strange and depressing call. Her mom had no faith in her ability to survive without a nine-to-five job and a man in her life who wore a suit and tie. Her siblings seemed fine during their occasional spells of unemployment and sofa surfing and dating questionable people, but her parents had no faith in Layla’s ability to do the same. And she was the oldest. Way too old to be thinking I’ll show them, but those exact words were being etched into her mind, and it took some effort to stop the process.

  She couldn’t really blame people for expecting her to act as she always had. But she wasn’t the same person she’d been even a month ago, and they’d better get used to that.

  BY THE TIME EDEN returned from service, Justin was once again in his pastry room, piping filling into éclairs.

  “The cake delivery went well?” she asked as she leaned against the doorjamb.

  “Did you see any dents on your vehicle?” Justin asked without looking up.

  “None that I didn’t put there myself.” She’d checked. He’d known she would. Anything for ammo. Eden shifted slightly. “I’ve been driving you crazy and I apologize.”

  Justin glanced up, his eyebrows raised. “Is this reverse psychology?”

  Eden brushed the hair away from her temple. “This is your sister asking you to slow down.”

  Justin nodded.

  “But you’re not going to, are you?”

  He started piping again. “I’m giving your suggestions some deep thought.”

  He heard her inhale sharply, waited for the explosion, but it didn’t come. And he didn’t dare look at her, for fear of triggering it.

  Finally, Eden said, “I don’t care how you live your life as long as it doesn’t affect business.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “You need to slow down.”

  “I will.”

  “Liar.”

  He glanced up at her and smiled. “I’ve not even thirty. I can handle this.”

  “Then maybe you can handle telling me what the hell is bugging you?”

  He tried to hold the smile, but failed. Something about a deep emotional jab to his midsection.

  “Whatever is bugging me—and I’m not saying something is bugging me—will not affect business. And if something bugs me in the future I won’t let it affect business. I never have and I never will. Okay?”

  Eden raised her hands in surrender. “Fine.” She backed out of the room without another word, leaving Justin with a decidedly unsettled feeling.

  It wasn’t like Eden to suddenly give up. But maybe she was finally starting to get it through her head that Justin was under no obligation to share.

  THIS WAS IT. Zero hour. The worst Justin could do was reject her again.

  Even so, Layla pulled open the door to Tremont Catering with more confidence than she felt. After the phone call with her mother the previous day, and more than an hour with a UNR advisor today discussing the merits of a straight education masters versus one in another field, such as psychology, only one thing was certain—absolutely nothing. And that was the attitude Layla had when she walked into the kitchen. Nothing was certain. She could live with that. She hoped.

  Recent events had taught her that even if you played by the rules, unexpected circumstances could swamp your life, change its direction forever. And reconnect you with a guy from your past that you’d never dreamed you wanted to be reconnected with.

  Surely there had to be a reason for that?

  “Hello?” she called as she stood in the empty waiting area. The door to the kitchen was propped open with a cast-iron Eiffel Tower.

  Layla heard footsteps in response to her call. Light footsteps, not Justin’s heavier tread. Oh, well.

  She was nervous, so she smiled her teacher smile when Eden came around the corner, her blond hair pulled up into a messy knot that suited her cheerleader good looks. Layla had always wished her hair would cooperate with knots and rubber bands, but it didn’t. She had one hairdo and she was wearing it. Fine, dark hair with a slight wave brushing her shoulders.

  “Layla?”

  Eden actually sounded friendly. That was a plus. The two of them had graduated from the same high school the same year, but despite having brothers who were practically joined at the hip, had never found a comfortable ground on which to build a friendship, perhaps because their social lives were polar opposites. E
den had been the perky, popular cheerleader, while Layla hid out in the library, held office in the Honor Society and belonged to several small clubs with the other shy, studious kids.

  Loserville, in the teen way of seeing things, but she’d never felt like a loser. Just impatient for high school to be over so she could get on with her life, follow her plans. Show those popular kids what a serious student could accomplish in the real world, away from the cliques and popularity contests.

  That hadn’t worked out too well for her of late.

  “Hi, Eden. I, uh…is Justin here?”

  Exactly what was she going to say if he was? Layla straightened her back. She was going to ask him out. Again. And when he said no, she was going to ask him why not. At the very least she figured he’d want to discuss matters privately rather than here at the kitchen, and would agree to set something up.

  That was the master plan, anyway. She’d refused to let herself practice the words. She was going to wing it…when she got the chance.

  “No. He won’t be in until tomorrow.”

  Layla felt a huge rush of disappointment mixed with relief.

  Eden cocked her head. “Did you leave something else in his car?”

  She smiled again, knowing it probably came off as a grimace. “No. I just wanted to see him.”

  “Anything I can help you with?” his sister asked, obviously fishing.

  “I don’t think so. It doesn’t involve the kitchen.” Layla didn’t mean to sound mysterious, but she was hardly going to say, “I just want to proposition your brother.” Nope. Couldn’t see doing that.

  Eden slowly nodded her head, her fingertips resting lightly on the counter in front of her, a flashy engagement ring catching the light on her left hand. “Forgive me for saying this, but it’s kind of strange having you and Justin—” she gestured as she searched for words “—in contact.”

  “Kind of like worlds colliding?”

  The corners of Eden’s mouth tilted up. Surprise, no doubt, that Layla was showing a bit of spunk instead of clamming up as she usually did when things got personal. “Exactly.”

  “I don’t know about Justin’s world, but I can tell you that lately mine has been, well, bizarre.”

  “How so?”

  “It started when Justin walked into that bar at Lake Tahoe to rescue me. Then that photo of me throwing up went viral through the student community, and I ended up getting fired.”

  Eden looked totally confused. “Fired?”

  So Justin had kept his mouth shut. Points to him.

  His sister leaned her elbows on the counter and clasped her hands together, the diamond on her ring again catching the light. Layla wondered if she was engaged to someone she knew. “You got fired?” Eden asked.

  Layla debated for a second—keeping her dignity had always been her first and foremost concern—then figured what the hell, and poured out the story of exactly what had happened to her after Robert’s bombshell. It had to get easier with each telling, didn’t it?

  Eden listened with rapt attention, her mouth dropping open a couple times. “Does your boss know about Robert and Melinda?” she interrupted at one point to ask.

  “I told her.” And now maybe Ella would look at perfect Melinda differently.

  “So what are you going to do?” Eden asked, and Layla realized this was a) the longest she’d probably ever talked to Justin’s sister and b) kind of fun. Perhaps she’d been intimidated by the cheerleader image and all that went with it for too long—like a dozen years too long.

  And maybe she’d been resentful that the boys, Justin, Derek and Eric, had never bothered Eden or Reggie. Only her. The reactive one. Eden had been too cute and Reggie too scary.

  “I’m starting classes in June.”

  “Master’s degree in education?”

  Layla rubbed a hand over the side of her neck. “That’s one possibility, but nothing is carved in stone at the moment.”

  Eden stared at her and Layla knew exactly what she was thinking. Layla Taylor without a definite plan. Pigs must be flying.

  Or at least she thought she knew what Eden was thinking. She was proved wrong when Justin’s sister said, “So what will you do until classes start?”

  “I’m formatting some lessons for self-publication.” Although, other than organizing the papers into piles, she had yet to begin. It was a big, big job.

  “Is there a deadline for that?”

  Layla shook her head. “Only a self-imposed one.”

  Eden narrowed her eyes in an appraising way. “Justin told you that our prep cook is having surgery, didn’t he?”

  “Yes,” Layla said. “He did mention that.”

  “And offered you the job in the midst of a drunken episode?”

  “He did.” Did Justin’s sister know he’d kissed her? That she’d kissed him back? Several times? Had she figured out that was why Layla was here?

  “Do you want to do it? She’ll be back before your classes start.”

  Layla’s pulse leaped. “I’m not that experienced in the kitchen. Just home economics type stuff.” A class she’d aced, but still…

  Eden leaned more heavily on her forearms. “All it involves is keeping Justin out of the weeds.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “He’s burning the candle at both ends and doing his best to ignite the middle. Patty, our prep cook, has been carrying a lot of his load, and without her…” Eden made a downward spiraling motion with her index finger as she gave a low whistle.

  “Why is he doing that?” Layla had been wondering, and truly wanted to know why a guy who’d been so carefree as a kid was now working such a ridiculous schedule.

  Eden met her eyes candidly. “He says it’s because of the condo payments, but he’s been like this since culinary school. And it’s been getting worse lately. He was in a car accident on the mountain Sunday evening—”

  Layla’s musing as to whether or not this was because he’d fathered a child stopped dead. “Is he all right?” she blurted, before realizing that if he wasn’t, Eden wouldn’t be calmly hiring an assistant for him.

  “According to Justin, he is. Just a slippery road, but I don’t know.... I want him to get some sleep while Patty is out, and he needs help. We all need help. I was about to hire a temp, but…” Eden shifted her jaw sideways in an appraising way. “Want to give it a go for a couple days? See if it works out?”

  “So I would just follow directions?” Layla asked.

  “That’s all. It’s like chemistry lab. Remember chemistry lab with Crabby Abby?”

  Mrs. Abigail. Oh, yes. Layla remembered.

  She’d been the queen of chemistry lab, Crabby Abby’s pet student, and Eden, who’d been in the same lab, had been famous for screwing up every single experiment. Of course, guys came out of the woodwork to help her.

  “I can handle that. But—” she cleared her throat “—I know there must be a lot of people with more experience than me who’d love a shot at cooking here for a few weeks.”

  Eden gave her a very candid look. “Honestly? Justin needs someone like you around.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You won’t put up with his bull and, well, I think you’d be good for him.”

  Layla’s bag slipped off her shoulder, but she caught the strap before it hit the floor. “Are you setting us up?” Egads.

  Eden leaned closer. “I’m trying to knock some sense into my hardheaded brother before he has a meltdown and we have to go looking for a new dessert chef.”

  “How will hiring me help?”

  “You guys have known each other forever. You’re steady. Stable. And frankly, I think he likes you.”

  “You want me to be a calming influence?”

  Eden laughed. “I want you to help double-team him.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “YOU HIRED LAYLA?” Justin slapped his white cotton stocking cap on his thigh, then pulled it over his hair in preparation for doing battle with one monster of a wedding cake, trying har
d not to look either angry or disturbed. “Why?”

  “It was originally your idea,” Eden pointed out.

  “I was drunk.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t get that drunk.”

  “I don’t do it often.” And he’d had a reason for that particular binge. “I thought we made hiring decisions as a team.”