Love In Store Books 1-3: Collection of three sweet and clean Christian romances with a London setting: The Wedding List, Believe in Me, & A Model Bride

by Autumn Macarthur

  Josie giggled. “You couldn’t!”

  Tiff smiled and shrugged. “I did. That saucepan was never the same again. So one day, I decided to bake some cakes to impress a boy from the church, a friend of Nick’s who was coming around for supper. I'm sure I followed Mom’s recipe exactly. Anyway, I served them. And they were hard. Like rocks, literally. I don't know what went wrong, but it went spectacularly wrong. He bit into one, broke a tooth implant, and his parents had to pay hundreds of dollars in orthodontist’s bills.”

  She looked to Mac, who smiled dutifully, though his eyes seemed to hold a hint of apology for bringing it up.

  Surprisingly, her smile in reply felt genuine. Somehow, telling the story herself instead of hearing it told about her changed it. The sting had gone, just like that.

  At the time, and every other retelling since, it seemed symbolic of everything wrong with her. She knew now, she was more than the helpless baby of her family. Her laugh held a freedom and lightness that felt like a gift from God.

  “Needless to say, he didn’t partner me to the school dance that year, as I’d hoped. My family teased me mercilessly. My darling older brother still tells the story. And I've never tried baking cakes since.”

  “I'll teach you,” Josie offered with a sweet smile as she closed the oven door and set the timer. “I'll ask Simon if we can have a baking session next time you come. I should still be here.”

  Josie must have seen the surprise on her face, though Tiff had done her best to hide it.

  “Yes, a homeless girl can bake. You know how I said my Nan looked after me after my Mum went to hospital the first time? Mum was never sober enough to know one end of a TV dinner from the other. But Nan was an amazing cook, a professional baker. She taught me how. And I know I can teach you too, just like Nan taught me.”

  Mac’s smile broadened. “I owe you, seeing I was the one who mentioned the cupcakes. I’m game to volunteer again that night and try your cakes.” He grinned. “My teeth are all my own, so I should be safe.”

  Tiff couldn’t resist smiling back. She felt she owed Mac, actually.

  “I’ll take a chance too,” Darren mumbled without looking up. “Anything Jose makes will be good.”

  “They’ll be wonderful cakes. No risk to anyone’s teeth.” Josie looked up with a grin. “See, I've come a long way. I can admit I'm good at something.”

  “Of course you are! I wouldn’t doubt for a second that you’re a good baker, and a good teacher too. I’ll try again. If it all goes wrong, it will be my fault, not yours.” Tiff smiled, and started counting plates as she pulled them from the cupboard. Twenty nine for dinner tonight.

  Josie leaned on the counter top, and the corners of her mobile mouth turned down. “You know it and I know it, but how can I convince an employer of it? I’d love to get a job in a bakery or a cake shop. But no-one will take me on without work experience or references. Cooking with Nan doesn't tick the right boxes.” She blew out a long sigh. “I'll keep trying. If I'm to get off the streets for good and take care of myself, I need a job.”

  She reached for the plates, and as Tiff passed them to her, Josie’s long shirt sleeve pulled up. A network of horizontal lines sliced from her wrists up her forearm, some thin and white, some red and angry looking.

  Her eyes met Tiff’s, with something sad and regretful in them. Quickly, she pulled her sleeve back down.

  “I’m a cutter,” Josie explained gently. “It’s not as bad as it used to be, but I’m not better yet.”

  Hurt swelled in Tiff’s chest, hot and painful and feeling like something might burst out of her. Her eyes stung. She knew Josie had a tough life, but to do that to herself. How much must she hurt inside?

  If she was nearer, she’d reach out to her. But something told her the homeless girl wouldn’t want her sympathy. She needed a different sort of help.

  God, please help her. Show me how to help her. And if Darren says anything mean to her, please forgive me if I smack him.

  Mac’s concerned eyes met Tiff’s. Somehow, she knew he was thinking much the same thing.

  Thankfully, Darren said nothing. He shook his head slowly, but his frown looked worried rather than critical. His hands lifted, as if he wanted to reach out to her.

  As if nothing had happened, Josie stacked the plates. “So, tell me about your week? Any luck with the designers?” Her voice was matter-of-fact, just like it had been when she’d dropped that bombshell.

  Tiff dredged up a smile and tried to answer Josie in the same calm tone, though she was far from feeling it. “About as successful as you’ve been with the cake shops. No-one wants to know me, for the same reason. Without experience, I can’t even get an interview for an unpaid internship.”

  She suppressed a sigh and straightened her back. Somehow, she avoided looking at Mac to see his response.

  But an idea was brewing in her mind. An idea to help people like Josie, and maybe Darren too. An idea that would give her something more worthwhile to do than shop and put on make-up.

  Now, she just had to figure out how to make it happen.

  Chapter 17

  Waiting in the upstairs hallway outside Pettett and Mayfield’s boardroom until her slot to present at the Monday Management meeting had to be the longest wait Tiff had ever made. The few minutes she’d stood here felt like hours.

  Heaving a deep breath, she tried to calm her pounding heart.

  This was her chance. She could make a difference to people like Josie, and prove to Mac and her family that she wasn’t useless and helpless.

  At last, Cara opened the door and stepped out to join her, carefully closing the door behind her.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” she whispered.

  Tiff nodded. “You know I wanted a fashion design job, but getting nowhere with that feels like God is telling me to do something else. Something like this.” She straightened the jacket of the navy outfit she’d purchased from the sales rack, hoping it really did make her look mature and professional.

  Cara patted her arm. “I’m so sorry. It’s hard when something you’ve hoped and dreamed for doesn’t play out the way you planned. I still think your designs are gorgeous, and I hope you can get them made up some day.” Her lips twisted in a wry smile. “No doubt I’ll hit the same frustration when I start shopping my children’s book to agents or publishers.”

  Tiff smiled, feigning an acceptance of letting go of her dreams she didn’t entirely feel. But if she started throwing a pity party for herself again, thinking of Josie strengthened her resolve. “I’m okay with it. This is a far more worthy project.”

  Cara smiled in return. “I’ll warn you before we go in, Mrs P can be a bit of a dragon. But I think the weekend sales figures have softened her up.”

  Tiff swallowed, and wiped slightly damp hands on her skirt. Having to speak in front of a room full of people had her nauseated enough to want to throw up. “I’m ready. Let's go face the dragon lady.”

  “You'll do great. You have a well thought out plan, and William and I will back you up a hundred percent.” With a final reassuring smile, Cara pushed open the door.

  Tiff stepped into the boardroom behind her, hoping the trembling she felt didn’t show, and pasting on a smile that might just pass as confident.

  An older woman clad in shocking pink and with lips painted an eye-blinkingly bright cerise sat at the head of the long polished table, tapping her finger impatiently. This had to be Mrs Pettett.

  Cara grimaced.

  Looked like that tapping wasn't a good sign.

  “Come on Cara,” the older woman ordered. “If we must waste our valuable time hearing some ridiculous ideas about charity, at least be punctual about it. We all heard you two, chatterboxing outside while I was kept waiting.”

  Cara glanced pointedly at the clock at the end of the room. “I’m sorry we kept you waiting for that two minutes,” she murmured mildly, with a sweet smile.

  Tiff sucked in another deep breath. She was too
nervous to smile at Cara’s gentle dig at her employer, and she didn’t dare to anyway.

  Please Lord, help this work. I really need it to work. Help me do something worthwhile, for Josie’s sake.

  That straightened her backbone and propelled her further into the room.

  She had to admit, this wasn’t purely unselfish. She wanted to prove herself, too. Her family had been kind about her failure to get anywhere with even the lowliest of the fashion design houses she'd tried. But their kindness held the sense that they'd expected it.

  That of course she'd fail, and that they’d known in advance that when she did, they'd pat her on the head and say, ‘There, there.’

  This scheme simply had to work. For her, for Josie, for all those other people who couldn’t get jobs. No matter how much this meeting terrified her, she had to convince Mrs Pettett to agree to her plan.

  She looked around the room, at the faces of the staff sitting around the long boardroom table, and smiled. Slightly wobbly, but a smile. She was off to a good start.

  At least one friendly face beamed back at her. William, a distinguished looking older man Cara had introduced to her yesterday. She'd been shocked to learn that though he was co-owner of the store, up until only a few weeks before Christmas, he'd been homeless too.

  He turned to Mrs Pettett and shook his head reprovingly. “Give the girl a chance, dear. I happen to think she has a jolly good idea.”

  The older woman’s face softened. “If you say so, Willie.” Her voice sounded quite different from her earlier imperious tone.

  Cara, obviously used to dealing with her employer’s moods, spoke soothingly to her. “Mrs Pettett, may I present Tiffany Gallagher. Thank you for letting her put forward her idea.”

  Cara turned to her. “Tiffany, as you may have guessed, Mrs Pettett is the owner and manager of the store, carrying on the fine family traditions of her father, Ronald Mayfield, who founded the store together with William’s father Samuel Pettett back in 1923.”

  Mrs Pettett puffed out her chest and smiled smugly.

  Tiff stepped forward. “I'm pleased to meet you.” She wasn't sure whether to shake the hand the older lady extended, or curtsey like she was meeting the Queen. In the end, she settled on an odd bobbing movement combining something of both.

  That seemed to mollify Mrs Pettett for a moment, then her brows snapped back together. “Well, come on girl, tell us what your idea is. How do you intend me to fritter away the store's hard earned cash on a ridiculous scheme that will get us nowhere?”

  Her abrupt tone startled Tiff and she pressed a hand to her chest. Then she glimpsed Cara hiding a smile. They’d heard about some of the owner’s more outlandish schemes for the store, when Cara stayed in the cottage with them over Christmas.

  Knowing that her idea wasn’t any more ridiculous than most of Mrs P’s gave Tiff the courage she needed to speak. She closed her eyes for a moment, and imagined she was presenting to Mac. If she could convince him, she’d convince anyone.

  “I hope that after you hear more, you'll agree that the scheme isn't meaningless at all, but one that will benefit both the store, the staff, and some of the most disadvantaged people in London. I'd like to propose that Pettett and Mayfield’s consider adopting a charity. Many other stores do this. It's great advertising, gives the store a human face, and allows you to put out press releases that have all the benefits of marketing but aren’t seen by either the media or shoppers as marketing.”

  She pulled out her prepared statistics and passed them around the table. After a weekend of careful research, double checking her accounting with Cara's help, she’d created the colourful graphs and charts to support her case.

  “These numbers show some of the results other stores have gained from similar charity sponsorships. As you can see, an increase both in sales figures and in positive customer perception of the store. That has to be a good thing, right?”

  She beamed at Mrs P. Get her to agree to the first statement, and the rest would be in the bag.

  Amazingly, Tiff started to feel like she could pull this off. At last she was getting some use from the marketing part of her college course, seeing she’d fallen on her face with the fashion side.

  The older woman nodded, and murmured a “Yes”, though her agreement looked and sounded reluctant and forced. Still, it was a start.

  Thank You, Jesus!

  “My suggestion is that Pettett and Mayfield's adopt The Blue Door homeless shelter as its chosen charity. And the support will be given through setting up a back-to-work scheme to get homeless folk who want to work back into employment. Some of these people have never had a job. Some have fallen ill or on hard times and lost their jobs. What they need is something to put on their resume. Work experience, and a reference. People treat them as unemployable. But they’re not. They just need to be given a chance.”

  She spread her hands to take in everyone at the table. Her smile around the room felt a lot more confident this time. She was doing it. People were paying attention to her, actually listening. Even Mrs Pettett was nodding.

  “Tiffany is absolutely correct,” William put in. “I’m not ashamed to admit that not too long ago, I was one of those people who many consider to be irredeemable. I was blessed with a chance to return to my old life. I’d like to see the store give younger homeless people a similar chance, so their lives aren’t wasted.”

  Mrs Pettett frowned. “But how will it work?”

  “I’d like department heads willing to host someone on work experience to consider what types of role they could offer. Then we’ll match up candidates with the most suitable job. Each supported worker will need a staff member mentor. We’ll also get them into outside training courses, and apply for government funded grants to cover all the expenses of hosting them.”

  She swept her hands down her skirt. “As most of them won’t have suitable clothing for work, past season’s unsold clothing stock could be donated to provide an outfit each. All expenses can be written off as a business loss, of course.” She smiled at Cara, who’d provided the financial know-how to sway Mrs Pettett. “The cost to the store will be next to nothing. The publicity value will be immense. And the value to those homeless people the store helps back into a normal life, beyond measuring. That’s it, basically.”

  Legs suddenly wobbly as the adrenaline that fuelled her presentation deserted her, she fell rather than sat in the chair Cara had positioned behind her. Clasping her hands together in her lap to stop them shaking, she looked up, ready for Mrs Pettett’s objections.

  It appeared there were none.

  Mrs P glanced toward William, then nodded. “If William approves, then I approve, provided there is no cost to the store.” She raised her pencilled-on eyebrows at Cara. “Does anything else require my attention?”

  Cara shook her head.

  “I’ll leave you to work out the details. I want a full report for next week’s meeting. That will be all.”

  She swept out of the room, trailed by William who paused to give Tiff an approving thumbs up as he closed the door.

  Tiff slumped in the chair, unsure if what she felt was joy or fear or amazement.

  She’d done it. Lord alone knew how. Surely, only with His help.

  But now she had her chance to prove herself to Mac and her family, and even more important, to make a difference to the people at the shelter.

  Cara grinned at her, and turned to the department heads, visibly more relaxed around the big table now that Mrs P had left. “Any questions for Tiffany?”

  “How soon can they start?” a bouncy red haired girl asked. “I need an assistant for my baking demonstrations. If they know one end of an icing bag from the other, even better.”

  A burly older man spoke up. “I don’t mind giving someone a chance in the warehouse. Now the store is busier, we could do with an extra set of hands.”

  Tiff could only stare in reply, and nod wordlessly. A job just right for Josie and maybe Darren too, straight away
. God was so good.

  She couldn’t wait to tell them.

  Several people started talking at once, offering positions. Their enthusiasm overwhelmed her. It could overwhelm people like Josie and Darren and the others she’d met at the shelter, too.

  Tiff found her voice. “Thank you. But remember, these people are willing to work, but may never have had a job before. They won’t be able to manage full time hours straight away. They’ll need training and support. Four hours a day a couple of days a week might be a good starting point.”

  Cara held her hands up. “Go back to your departments, write down what role you can offer, and bring it back to me by tomorrow.”

  They filed away, leaving Tiff with Cara.

  Tiff clapped her hands over her mouth to suppress the nervous giggles shaking her. She’d done it. She’d really done it.

  “Good work,” Cara said, patting her on the shoulder. “I’m just thinking, we’ll need a photographer for the publicity shots, if the store’s to benefit from this. Our official store photographer has started her maternity leave early. Would Mac do it?”

  Tiff’s excitement evaporated, replaced with an odd buzz of tension.

  The scheme was a reality. Imagining she was speaking to Mac and trying to convince him had given her the confidence to speak up. But working together was a different matter.

  It seemed there was no escaping Mac.

  And she wasn’t quite sure any more that she wanted to escape him.

  Chapter 18

  Mac watched Tiffany’s lively face through his camera viewfinder and couldn’t resist smiling. Her arms waved as she eagerly discussed her mentorship scheme with a small group of store staff and shelter residents, clustered around a table in the Pettett and Mayfield’s staff cafeteria.

  Not the place he would have chosen for a meeting, but Tiff just grinned, that grin that could soften the hardest heart.

  “That big formal boardroom makes everyone feel uneasy. I know it’s made me feel uneasy, every time I’ve been to meetings there.”