I blow out my breath. “I’ll think about it, okay? I also need to ask Donna to take over for me.”
“She’s free every goddamn holiday, since you’re the one who’s keeping the lights on when others are sipping eggnog by the fire. She better let you take this year.”
“I’ll call your mother and let her know about my plans.”
“You do that,” he says as we shake hands. “Watch your back, man.”
“You too. And stay away from the backrooms,” I tease, winking, then turn around and saunter toward the elevator.
“Hey, Josh?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s Sharon.”
“Sharon?”
“Your mother’s friend; the yoga teacher.”
CHAPTER FIVE
teresa
For the tenth time, I inspect the big rectangular table in the middle of the restaurant to see if everything is in place for the cake tasting in about thirty minutes. Plates, forks, napkins… The wooden tabletops, surrounded by black vintage Thonet chairs, have a perfect mirror finish, and cookies and cupcakes are neatly showcased underneath cloches on the counter. Romantic music in the background adds the finishing touch. The rest is all up to flavors and frosting. I have my portfolio and list with prices prepared, and of course, questions for the bride and groom to be. So, what could possibly go wrong? I knock on wood anyway.
I’ve baked dozens of cakes for family, friends, and acquaintances, but this time it’s different. First of all, it’s the very first wedding cake tasting in my own restaurant with real paying customers, and secondly, this cake matters, because I’ll be baking it for a wealthy Bostonian family. If I nail this, my clientele could rocket sky high.
Chuckling at that sunny prospect, I walk toward the counter as my phone suddenly starts ringing, and pray Eloise Vandenberg isn’t canceling on me now that I’m ready to indulge her sweet tooth.
I ran a background check on her, and she’s working for VIC, the Vandenberg Investment Company. Her family exploits the Vandenberg Hotels all around New England, and Eloise works at their headquarters in Boston. I read a little of the family’s history and from what I’ve understood, it’s quite tragic at times. If I thought it was all peaches and cream with the rich and famous, I better think again. Two of the grandchildren were kidnapped for weeks – I remember it made quite an impression on me at the time, because I had more or less the same age as the girl – and the mother of the two twins has mysteriously disappeared, and was later announced dead. There was more, but I stopped reading. It must be terrible to have your family’s tragedy splashed about in the news. I would hate it if everyone would know about my and Felipe’s car accident that killed our parents.
“Ms. Sainz?”
“Yes, sorry. Could you repeat that for me please?”
“Felipe is skipping classes again.”
“He is?” I ask, taken by surprise. I thought we were past that.
“Unfortunately, yes. It’s the fifth time in two weeks.”
I start massaging my forehead as I feel a headache coming up. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I’ll talk to him.”
“Please do, Ms. Sainz. Felipe is a bright kid, but he’s very lazy when he’s not skipping classes, and we can no longer tolerate his behavior. His grades are going downhill, and if this continues, he won’t graduate.”
“My God, that bad?”
“I’m sorry. We know you lost your parents, and Felipe is still struggling with that, and it must be hard on you as his legal guardian, but the next time I’ll be forced to send you a formal truancy letter.”
“I understand. Thanks for your phone call first. It won’t happen again. And he’ll graduate, I’ll make sure of that.”
“I’ll hold you to that. God knows he has the brains. Goodbye, Ms. Sainz.”
I immediately call Felipe to find out where he’s hanging out, but when his phone goes to voice mail, I leave a message.
“Felipe, call me back when you hear this,” I say severely, sounding like Mom. “I just got a call from your teacher about your poor attendance. You and I are sitting down as soon as I get home, and then we’re going to have a serious talk. Call me! Worried sister.”
My head whips up when the bell tinkles. Eloise Vandenberg…
Here goes.
“Ms. Vandenberg, welcome to Camila’s Kitchen. So good to have you here again.” I’m surprised she didn’t bring her future husband as she indicated when she made the reservation for the tasting. “How was your trip?”
“Good, thank you, Teresa. Nice to see you again too,” she replies with a friendly smile. She’s a beauty with her classic features. I can already picture her cutting a glamorous and elegant golden wedding cake, although I secretly hope she goes for the naked wedding cake; one without all the frosting and layers of buttercream. “I’ve been really looking forward to this day, like any bride would, I’m sure. Oh, and please, call me Lola.”
“If you call me Tess.”
“I brought Hannah, my cousin. She’s stepping in for Asher, who couldn’t make it, unfortunately.”
I shake both women’s hands, and look up into the sparkling eyes of a pretty blonde. “Nice to meet you, Hannah.”
“You too, Teresa.”
“Tess.”
“Tess. You have a beautiful shop, a mix of industrial and vintage. Love it.”
“Thank you,” I reply, feeling a wee bit star struck. I just thought of her horrible kidnapping, and now she’s standing in my shop, complimenting me, as though nothing ever happened. Well, it was years ago, of course, but nonetheless. Now I wish I didn’t run a background check; it’s hard not to stare at this brave woman, who probably went to hell and back as a young girl.
“I’m sorry, please, sit down,” I say, gesturing to the table with the cakes sitting on the glass stands.
“Oh, but this is lovely!” Lola exclaims.
I walk toward the door and lock it, since the restaurant doesn’t open until twelve. “Tell me, what can I get you, ladies? A cappuccino, latte, tea maybe?”
“Cappuccino, please,” Lola says as she removes her long, fabulous woolen coat. I scurry toward the table to take it from her, together with a pretty, merino wool scarf. Damn, but how could I forget to take their coats? God, I’m way too nervous.
“I’d love a tea,” Hannah says, rubbing her hands. I take her winter jacket as well.
“I’ll be right back,” I inform them as I bring their coats to the back and prepare their requested drinks.
I pour boiled water over organic leaves, and put the teapot and glasses on a tray, then take the cappuccino from under the coffee machine and walk back to the two cousins, who are studying the cakes and the cards I put in front of them with the flavors.
“So, how did you and Asher meet?” I ask as I put our drinks on the table.
Lola tucks a string of black hair behind her ear, and I almost gush over the diamonds in her round-cut engagement ring glaring off her finger. This ring had to have cost her fiancé a small fortune. Personally, I don’t care for diamonds, or if they’re set in eighteen karat gold, or if it’s just a piece of metal. It’s not the price tag, but the memory behind it, or the person giving it to you that suggests its true value. Having said that… wow. This ring defines elegant beauty.
“I grew up in my father’s hotel in downtown Boston where Asher started working as a banqueting waiter when he was seventeen,” Lola begins explaining. “I was only thirteen, and not really interested in him, or any guy for that matter. But a few years later, when I was having a graduation party at the hotel, Asher was tending bar with Mac, my brother.”
“The one I met?” I ask, remembering she came in here with a tall, handsome looking man when I wasn’t yet officially open.
“Yes, he was with me last time. We ate dinner at the restaurant across the street.”
“Ah, at Suite 63.”
“Yes. Anyway, Mac was doing his best to impress one of the girls from my class, and disappeared with her, l
eaving Asher and me to clean up the mess when the party ended. He brought me home, which meant taking the elevator up to the ninth floor where I lived with my parents. And, well, let’s just say a lot can happen during your way up to the ninth,” she says, winking. “It’s where it all started, and resulted in a proposal a few months ago.”
“Oh, how perfect,” I muse, picturing them together cleaning up after the party while secretly longing for each other, exchanging glances, and then sharing a kiss inside the elevator. “Finding the man of your dreams at your graduation party… I would have loved to meet him. I’m so sorry he couldn’t make it today. The cake tasting is considered to be the best part of wedding planning.”
My totally innocent but stupid remark wipes the smile off Lola’s face, and I could kick myself in the teeth. What was I thinking, being that bold? These women are my clients, not my best friends I’m hanging out with at a cocktail lounge.
Hannah smiles as she claps her hands. “So, let’s get down to the tasting, shall we? Boy, my mouth’s watering just by looking at all this deliciousness.”
“Good idea,” I say, picking up on Hannah’s smart diversion. “Which cake is appealing to you?”
Lola clears her throat. “Well, they’re all screaming at me to dive in, but the strawberry lemon looks rather enticing.”
Smiling, I get up and pick up the knife to cut some slices. “Then let’s start with that one first. Of course, I can customize the cake design or help you create your dream wedding cake. These are just so you can taste the fillings.”
“They already look so pretty,” Lola says as she stirs her coffee. “I told you the wedding takes place in September, right?”
“Yes, you told me. You have a theme?” I ask, looking at her. Luckily, she’s smiling again.
“Not really, other than the ceremony takes place on a beach at Martha’s Vineyard, or Nantucket. We still need to check out two venues.”
“That’s so romantic! Miles of beaches, light towers, and historic houses,” I say enthused, putting the slices on the plates. “I’d do the same.”
“You’re not married?” Hannah asks curiously.
I hold up a ringless hand. “Nope. Still single. I just moved to Portsmouth from Spain, so who knows, maybe I’ll find Prince Charming right here in New Hampshire.”
Lola and Hannah exchange a glance. “We happen to know an eligible single in the state as a matter of fact.”
“Not too sure if he’s charming, though,” Hannah adds with a chuckle.
“I’m not looking for anything personal right now, but thanks,” I say with a smile. “I have a kid brother to raise first and he’s a handful already, but, if I’m lucky, in four or five years down the road, I might be able to go on a date,” I joke as I place the plates in front of them, then nervously watch as they pick up their spoons and dig in.
Twenty minutes later, they’ve tasted all cakes but one. I baked the naked cake in three layers, so they could see the effect of how pretty it looks. I made it with champagne, fruit, and flowers, which will taste better in September when they’re fresh, but it gives her an idea.
“That one is definitely gasp-worthy,” Hannah says as she makes a picture of the cake, just like she made pictures of the others.
“I actually wanted to taste that one first,” Lola admits, “but it looked too pretty to mess up. I just wanted to enjoy it a little while longer. Tell me about it.”
“Well, we call it a naked or unfinished cake. It’s been a trend for a while, but I’ve always loved them, and favor them as opposed to the traditional frosted cakes, but that’s personal. I’ve made a moist traditional sponge cake, to which I’ve added lemon zest to bring out the flavors of the fruit. For the filling, I used buttercream, flavored with a reduction of champagne. I garnished it with raspberries, blueberries, strawberries, and blackberries, and then dusted it with powdered sugar. Lastly, I decorated it with flowers, but you can decorate it with pretty much anything to add the color or flavor you want.”
“The combination of strawberries and champagne is divine. So clever,” Hannah says.
“Yes,” I agree. “Their flavors pair together perfectly.”
“It’s simple, unpresumptuous, and yet looking so pure and elegant with pink flowers,” Lola adds. Yes! My sparkling naked cake raptured her. I think I have a winner.
“Thank you, girls,” I say, pleased with their words. “Shall I mess it up then?”
“Please do. Are the roses edible?”
“Yes, they’re organic,” I say, placing a slice on a new clean plate, then look up when someone’s knocking on the window. My heartbeat quickens as I watch his smiling face. He raises his hand.
“Speaking of the devil,” Hannah whispers to Lola, then waves at Josh.
“You know him?” I ask.
“Yeah, in a way.”
“You’re both fans of his food?”
“Pretty much,” Lola says with a smile.
“One moment, please,” I say as I notice he keeps waiting by the entrance. Oh no… If he thinks he can just saunter his sexy ass in here, he’s in for a surprise. I’m wised up. I want him and his opinion far, far away from my clients, no matter how finger-licking good he looks. Grrr… He even made an effort to hide his adornments for the public, and is dressed in an absolutely magnificent cobalt blue dress shirt, complementing the shade of his hair.
I unlock the door. “What are you doing here, Josh?” I ask softly. “This isn’t a good time.”
“How are you?” he asks, nonetheless.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“And your brother?”
“That’s debatable. Listen,” I say, still not opening the door any further than necessary. “I’m in the middle of a wedding cake tasting, so…”
He sticks his head through the opening, trying to peek inside. He smells of soap, a clean and masculine scent. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Ha,” he utters. “I had no idea. Let me say hi to them.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say, and stiffen my shoulders.
Joshua smiles. “I won’t embarrass you, Teresa, and I’ll be out of here before you can say mascarpone.” He simply pushes the door open and walks past me.
“Please keep your opinion of my desserts to yourself,” I whisper after him. “I need these clients.”
To my surprise, he bends down and plants kisses on the women’s cheeks. “Hi, Han. How’s Abel?”
“Very well.” She rolls her eyes. “Busy making Vandenberg green.”
Josh laughs. “Of course he is.”
“Hey, Josh,” Lola says. “We wanted to drop by after the tasting.”
“Picking out flavors for the wedding cake, huh? Where the hell is Ash?”
“He couldn’t make it.”
“Bullshit,” he says indifferently as he gives my cakes the once-over. I refrain from rolling my eyes, meanwhile wondering how well acquainted he is with his fans.
“Do you mind if Joshua tastes the cake?” Lola asks me. “I’d love his opinion. His palate is amazing.”
“Oh, uh, well,” I stutter, scratching the back of my head. Unfortunately, I can’t say no to that; all I can do is pray and hope he cuts me slack this time. “Please, have a seat,” I say to Josh, avoiding looking at him. “I’ll get you forks.” I swear, one look of disapproval and… and I’ll eat at Suite 63, and won’t hold back in my opinion in front of his guests.
I place the forks and a napkin on the table, and just as I move to pick up the knife, Josh places his hand on my forearm, making my pulse sprint.
“Don’t bother,” he says calmly, and cuts a small piece of the pink frosted cake with his fork. He chews slowly, deliberately, then swallows. It’s all sexy as hell, but his unsmiling face isn’t predicting any good. “How much salt is in it?” he asks sternly.
“One tablespoon,” I reply as I take the seat next to him, eagerly and feverishly waiting on his opinion, but he keeps quiet as he continues with the s
picy ginger cake. This is torturing. Usually, I’m a confident woman, one who understands how flavors work, but I hate not feeling confident in his presence, and that I’m questioning myself if I balanced it right, just because he asks me about the measurements.
As I watch him use that sinful mouth of his, it dawns on me. Joshua… Lola called him Joshua. She also stated they knew an eligible single in the state. “You’re Joshua Vandenberg,” I say, my jaw dropping. My God, I just read about the tragedy with his mother.
Josh cocks his head. “I told you the first time we met.”
“No, you told me you were Josh. You didn’t give me your full name.”
“Does it matter?”
“No. It’s just… you’re all cousins. I tried to keep you outside.”
“Which was very entertaining, by the way,” Hannah says with a big smile.
“You could have said he was your cousin.”
“It was more fun this way,” Lola says with a grin, looking at Hannah. “You owe me ten bucks.”
“Damn, but I was sure she wouldn’t let him enter.”
Josh shakes his head, focusing on his tasting job again.
“Planning on going nude?” he asks Lola as he arrives at the naked cake.
“I might.”
He tastes the cake in different stages, taking a bite of the sponge first. “You used buttermilk for the sponge?”
“Yes.” Damn, but I feel as though I’m in a freaking cooking show, not knowing whether I did good or bad.
“How much?”
“Half a cup to make it more moist. And I added champagne.”
“Are the flowers toxic free?”
“They’re organic.”
Next, he tastes the filling.
“I’ve added a reduction of champagne to the batter.”
He gives me a did-I-give-you-permission-to-speak look, and I raise my chin. Damn him, but this cake is good!
“Well?” Lola asks, growing impatient.
“That one,” he says, gesturing to the naked cake with his fork.
Lola smiles. “I knew it! It’s good, isn’t it?”
“You’ll make dessert unforgettable with a wedding cake like this, also, you’ll give every bakery in the state of Massachusetts a run for their money, because all of your friends will want to get their cakes in New Hampshire.” He shifts his gaze my way and winks. “Well done.” He lays down his fork. “So, if you ladies are out of your sugar coma’s, stop by at Suite 63, and I’ll make you lunch before you head back to Beantown.”
Joshua Page 6
