by Alix Kelso
“Okay,” Chrissie said. “Let’s take a step back and see if we can’t figure this out.” She removed the folder from Eva’s hands and set it on the table. “Forget about the photographs and think instead about what you want your wedding cake to look like.”
Eva clasped her hands in her lap and chewed her lip. “It’s difficult to think. My head’s all fuzzy.”
“Okay, imagine that you and your new husband are cutting into the cake at your wedding reception. What does the cake look like?”
Chrissie saw Eva’s gaze turn farsighted and a smile curled at the edges of her lips. But just as she thought she was making a breakthrough, the young bride’s mouth began to quiver.
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice breaking. “All I know is that it’s beautiful.”
So much for the visualisation process. Chrissie wondered if it might help to return to some specifics.
“Let’s go back to the options we talked about earlier.” Chrissie picked up the checklist she used to help new customers pin down their choices. “Are you any closer to deciding if you want your cake to be chocolate, vanilla, fruitcake, or something else?”
Eva pursed her lips. “Possibly vanilla. But maybe vanilla is boring. Do you think lemon sponge might be nice?”
“Yes, that can be very nice.”
“But maybe chocolate is more fun?”
“They’re all good choices, Eva. The question is which choice is right for you.”
Eva nodded frantically. “Maybe we could choose the sponge later?”
Chrissie looked back at her checklist. “Let’s think about the icing. Do you want white or ivory, or would you prefer a different colour?”
“I saw a photograph in one of these albums of a pink pastel cake and it looked so good.” Eva picked up a binder and began flicking through it, but soon stopped at a photograph of wedding cupcakes decorated in white icing with a single pale yellow flower on top of each one. “Oh, but these are so gorgeous too.”
Chrissie understood what was going on. Eva wanted everything to be perfect, all brides did, but she was scared of making a choice in case it turned out to be the wrong one.
“You’ve been drawn to the pastel colours a few times,” Chrissie said. “Perhaps if you choose a colour first, it will help with the rest of your choices.”
Eva nodded. “I like these pale pinks and yellows. But my bridesmaids’ dresses are champagne-coloured. I couldn’t have pink and yellow on my cake if the bridesmaids are in champagne. Oh, Chrissie, maybe I’ve made a mistake with their dresses! Maybe I should change things!”
Tears welled in the young woman’s eyes. Chrissie set down her paperwork and offered the box of tissues she kept on the table. Eva snagged one and blew her nose noisily, then gave Chrissie a sheepish look.
“I’m sorry, I’m making a fool of myself,” she said.
“Don’t be silly. Weddings are emotional and stressful and things can feel overwhelming.”
Eva blew her nose again. “I’ve taken up your whole morning, I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Chrissie said and gave the young woman a pat on the arm. “Tell me, Eva, how did you and your fiancé meet?”
At this question, Eva’s shoulders visibly relaxed and Chrissie could see in the young woman’s expression just how much she was in love with her husband-to-be.
“Euan’s my friend’s brother,” Eva said. “One Valentine’s night, I ended up at my friend’s house in tears because the guy I was seeing had dumped me. Euan heard me blubbering about how Valentine’s was ruined and it’d never be the same again. He went out and bought these trays of Valentine’s cupcakes, and this huge bunch of pink and red heart-shaped balloons. It made me laugh, seeing him come through the door hauling those trays of cakes and those balloons. A few days later, he asked me out and I said yes.”
Chrissie smiled. “Valentine’s must be a very special day for you both.”
“He says when he saw me bawling my eyes out that night and blowing my nose into my hanky, he knew I was the one,” Eva laughed.
Chrissie nodded. “In that case, I think your wedding cake ought to mark that special moment. How about a simple white wedding cake decorated with cascading pink hearts down the tiers, in tribute to your Valentine’s memory? I’ll choose a shade of pink that will complement the champagne of your bridesmaids’ dresses. The design I have in mind would be something similar to this.”
Chrissie flicked through an album and found the example she was thinking of. This particular cake was decorated with gorgeous sugar lilies, but if the flowers were replaced with hearts, Chrissie knew it would work beautifully.
When she glanced up, Eva’s eyes were tearing up again and a smile was spreading across her face.
“I think that would be perfect!” she said. “You’re a genius!”
Chrissie laughed and began closing the binders and albums now that her customer’s decision had been made. “It’s just about working out what you truly want.”
Eva glanced at the binders as Chrissie stacked them on the table. “All these cakes you’ve made for other brides are so lovely. It must make you so happy doing something like this.”
“It does make me happy. But what makes me happiest is making sure that brides get exactly what they want on their wedding day.”
“Even if it means sitting with a sobbing wreck for half the day?”
“Even then.”
Eva laughed and Chrissie was pleased to see her young face had brightened and the tears were behind her.
“Thanks for helping,” Eva said. “I should’ve just told you to choose something for me the minute I arrived. You’ve got amazing taste. I can see it everywhere I look in this place.”
Chrissie gazed at the young bride for a moment, and then found herself looking around at the shop, even though she knew every inch of it. It was a tiny space, but it didn’t need to be any bigger because it was used only for customer consultations and cake collections. The commercial kitchen at the back was where Chrissie spent most of her work day, but when she’d first started her business, she’d understood that when people were about to spend a lot of money on a special cake, they’d want to choose it somewhere that itself felt a little special, too.
And so she’d taken care decorating the small shop. The chairs by the window were covered in honey-coloured velvet and sat beside an eye-catching wooden table on which she kept her sample binders and a small glass vase that was always filled with a few fresh flowers. The floor was laid with warm caramel wood and the walls were painted a rich cream to show off the framed photographs of some of her best cake creations. The lighting was soft and the space always felt cosy and welcoming.
And it smelled good, too, filled with the warm scents of sugar and baking that wafted through from the kitchen. Every day when she turned the key in the door and came inside to work, Chrissie breathed deeply of the scent of her lovely little shop and felt happy that the place belonged to her.
“You’re very kind,” Chrissie said. “I’m glad you like it.”
Eva looked at the framed photographs on the wall, studying each cake in turn. “I bet you had a beautiful cake on your own wedding day.”
The comment caught Chrissie short, and she stared at Eva, wondering what to say. In the five years she’d been running her little cake business, not a single customer had ever said such a thing.
Chrissie shifted in her chair and smiled. “It was lovely,” she finally said.
This was, in fact, a lie. But the truth wasn’t good conversational material for a bride-to-be who was booking her wedding cake.
Chrissie cleared her throat, keen to change the topic. “Why don’t you go home and talk with your fiancé about your sponge choices, and give me a call when you’ve decided?”
Eva rose from her chair. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
A few minutes later, Chrissie had taken Eva Collins’s deposit and sent her off
with a box of sponge samples to share with her family while she made her final decisions about her wedding cake. And as much as Chrissie loved helping her young brides-to-be with their choices, she still breathed a sigh of relief once Eva was gone.
It had been a long morning.
Chrissie gazed at the photographs on the wall and thought about what the young woman had said.
I bet you had a beautiful cake on your own wedding day.
Looking at a picture of an ivory-iced four-tier cake with cascading sugar roses, she thought of the cake she’d actually had on her wedding day.
It hadn’t looked anything like that cake up on the wall.
But then again, it hadn’t technically been a wedding cake, because there hadn’t been a wedding.
Chrissie pushed the thoughts away. She no longer allowed herself to think back to that time because nothing good ever came from raking over the past. And she certainly wasn’t about to ruin what remained of her day off by getting caught up in old memories.
She was grabbing her jacket from the back of the shop and preparing to return to her precious day off when the bell above the front door tinkled. Chrissie rushed through, preparing to deal with the new customer arrival politely but quickly, so she could lock up and leave. But instead of a customer, it was her mother, Irene, whom she found stepping into the tiny shop and walking smartly to the counter where she unwound her scarf.
“I thought you were planning on staying closed today?” Irene said, setting her bag on the counter.
“A bride got her appointment date wrong and I came in to sort it out.”
“You are very good to your customers.”
“I’m a glutton for punishment, you mean.”
But Irene shook her head. “No, you help people make their celebrations special. That’s important. But if you decide to take a day off, then you ought to take the day off.”
“Believe me, I’m trying.”
Chrissie pulled on her jacket and picked up her keys, hoping that Irene would take the hint. Instead, her mother simply began rifling through her huge handbag.
“How is Poppy?” Irene asked.
“She’s great. She’s got a thing for sliced bananas this week.”
Irene smiled. “And how’s Alison? I haven’t heard from her for a few days.”
“She’s fine.”
Irene looked up from her handbag and arched an eyebrow. “What did she do now?”
Chrissie sighed. “She didn’t do anything, Mother, don’t say it like that.” Then she sighed again and waved a hand. “She tried to cook breakfast this morning and ended up almost setting the pan of bacon on fire.”
“Good grief. Is she okay?”
“Of course she is. She wasn’t even there when it happened because she’d wandered away from the hob.”
“What?”
“It was just a silly accident.”
Irene frowned. “There seems to be a rash of silly accidents happening these days involving Alison. Did she tell you she decided to help me with my spring cleaning last week and ended up washing the inside of my oven with bleach?”
Chrissie hadn’t known about this. It certainly explained why Irene hadn’t heard from Alison for a few days.
“I understand Alison was only trying to help, but quite how she could make a mistake like that is beyond me,” Irene added. “What’s going on with her these days?”
“She’s got a lot on her plate and makes mistakes sometimes. We all do.”
“Indeed. Tell her to stay away from my kitchen appliances, anyway. Oh, that reminds me. Are you aware that Jim Donovan’s divorce has come through and that he is now available?”
“Who is Jim Donovan?”
“You know who Jim Donovan is,” Irene said, rolling her eyes. “He’s the son of my friend, Sheila Donovan. You know Sheila. She used to work at the big electrical shop out at the retail park until she accidentally got trapped inside one of those ridiculously huge American fridges and the manager had to ask her to leave.”
Chrissie blinked. “Why exactly are you telling me this?”
Irene shook her head, her expression exasperated. “Because Sheila Donovan’s son, Jim, is available, Chrissie. He is an attractive man, only a few years older than you, he has money in the bank, and he is available. But he won’t be on the market for long. So, shall I tell Sheila to get him to phone you and ask you out?”
“For God’s sake, Mother!” Chrissie said. “Please do not do that.”
“But if we don’t hurry, the other ladies from my library book group will catch wind that Jim’s now on the market and they’ll be lining up to pair him off with their own single females.”
“I’m not interested in going out with some random person, Mother. I’ve got enough to keep me busy as it is. Between Alison and Gregor destroying my home, and my customers here at the cake shop, I don’t have time for men.”
“You should make time,” Irene sniffed. “It’s about time you hired some staff to help you, and—”
“Why are you here anyway?” Chrissie interrupted before Irene could warm to this new theme. “If you knew the shop was closed, what did you come for?”
Irene gave her a mysterious smile and pulled an envelope from the depths of her bag. “I came because I thought you’d be closed and I could just slip this under the door for you to find tomorrow. I wanted it to be a surprise. But when I realised you were open, I thought I might as well do it in person.”
“Do what in person?”
“Okay,” Irene said, her smile twitching, “don’t get angry.”
Chrissie’s gaze narrowed. “Don’t give me a reason to.”
“Just promise that you’ll take a minute to look at this before you say anything.”
“I don’t like the sound of this, Mother. What’s going on?”
Irene pushed the envelope across the counter. “Open it and find out.”
Chrissie stared for a moment before picking up the envelope. It was unsealed and inside there was a thin sheaf of papers held together with a paperclip. Pulling out the papers, she turned them over and unfolded them.
Her mouth fell open in horrified surprise as she began reading. The top sheet was a printed email and the words it contained danced before her eyes.
Thank you for your application to participate in the Glasgow Wedding Fair on April 8th at the Scottish Event Campus … we had a huge number of applications … pleased to confirm that you’ve been accepted to compete in our Wedding Cake Showcase …
Chrissie looked up from the clipped sheets of paper. “Please tell me this is a joke.”
Irene’s smile turned to a frown. “Of course it’s not a joke. This is something you should’ve done ages ago. In fact, this is something you should’ve done when you first opened this shop.”
“My God, Mother! You entered me into this competition without telling me. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that as you’d never do it yourself, I ought to do it for you.”
“Of course I would never have done it myself! I don’t have time for something like this!” Glancing again at the printed email, Chrissie felt her stomach roll. “This is the Glasgow Wedding Fair, Mother. It’s one of the biggest wedding events in the country. You’ve ruined me!”
Irene clicked her tongue. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m going to have to pull out. I’m going to have to tell them I can’t do it. And that will be a black mark against my name and against my business, and if I ever did have time to do this in the future, they’d never take me.”
Irene gave her a look. “There’s no time like the present, Chrissie. You’re in it now, so you might as well get on with it.”
Chrissie let out a breath and shook the paperwork at her mother. “But it’s in less than two weeks! I can’t get ready for this competition and meet my customer orders. And there’s Alison and Poppy to consider.”
“Alison can look after herself, and both she and Gregor can look after Poppy perfectly w
ell. Don’t use them as excuses, Christine.”
Her mother’s use of her full name caught Chrissie short. “I’m not using them as excuses. I can’t make time for this competition while also running this business and helping my family. I just can’t do it.” She let out a laugh. “I mean, today was supposed to be my first day off in weeks, and instead I’m in here working. If I can’t find time to take one day off, how do you expect me to find time for this competition?”
Irene leaned over the counter and laid a hand on Chrissie’s. “This place could be a gold mine if you’d only get your business head in order and start thinking strategically about things.”
“My business is doing fine. It keeps a roof over my head and food in the fridge, and lets me do what I have to do to help Alison and Gregor and Poppy. That’s all I need right now. It’s all I have time for.”
Irene sighed and snapped her bag closed. “All I know is that you have a gift.” She gestured to the framed photographs on the wall. “You are a wonderful baker and a very creative cake designer. I know how much courage it took for you to open this shop in the first place, but sometimes I wonder why you settle for just getting by when you could have so much more. Believe me, if I had your talent and capacity for hard work, I would’ve done a lot more with it than you have. If you’re rushed off your feet with this place, surely that’s a sign that it’s time for you to hire some staff?”
“Don’t start this again, Mother,” Chrissie said, sighing. “I can’t hire staff with the margins I make.”
“But if you had staff, you’d be able to take on more business and make more money and increase your margins!”
“And if I hire staff and don’t get any more business, I’ll go under.”
“Why do you always assume the worst case scenario? This place is a success and it would be an even bigger success if you expanded.”
“Mother, please—”
But Irene turned for the door. “I’ve said my piece. I hope you won’t pull out of the competition, Chrissie. I think it could be good for you. And I’ll be here if you need me to help with Poppy so you can have time to work on a cake design. You don’t have to do it all on your own.”
