Page 6 of Cakewalk

While she hadn't had to fiddle with the coffeemaking side of things after her first day, she did have a couple of run-ins with the register. Kirk hadn’t told her not to hit the back button. Had he told her that, she wouldn’t have done it, and it never would have resulted in the machine freezing to the point where the rest of the day was spent ringing customers up by hand. Kirk was more than happy to banish her to the kitchen so she could get to work on the cakes after that.

True to her word, Zara had been right about their kitchen having everything she would need. Between Audrey having been a professional chef and Roderick, the uber hot baking mastermind who kept the Bean stocked with all the savory baked goods, they knew all the right equipment for an operation like this. Not that a lot of them meant anything to Gigi, but she could tell that it had anything you could want if you actually knew what you were doing. She was holding her own though, or so she’d thought, until Audrey approached her this afternoon.

“Hey, Gigi, how are you settling in?” Audrey asked, as Gigi pulled a tray of cupcakes out of the oven.

The tops of each little cake hadn’t risen the way she had expected. Instead of having a nice round top that crested over the top of the divot in the tray, each one was barely level with the little wrapping she’d placed the batter in. Had she not put in enough batter? Oh, for heaven’s sake…

“Fine!” she replied, with maybe a little too much enthusiasm. She didn’t want her new boss to have any idea that she didn’t really know what she was doing and that underneath this very well put together exterior, she was nothing but a hot mess. Hell, these days she was the hot mess express. “It’s been quite the week, but I think I’m starting to get my footing.”

“Good! I’m so glad you found a place to stay so quickly. I stayed at the motor lodge myself for a moment when I first visited Colebury, and it’s an experience!”

“That’s a very nice way of putting it!”

“I just wanted to check in, because we’ve gotten some feedback on all the new stuff you’ve made. Everything is so pretty. The roses yesterday were just adorable!” Audrey started.

“Oh, I love those!” Gigi responded. The one thing that the Busy Bean didn’t have on hand was fondant. Which was fine, because regular frosting was easy enough to make, and Gigi knew she wouldn’t screw that up. It just meant being extra careful in piping a large rose on top of each one. “There wasn’t any fondant in here, so I’ve had to keep things pretty basic for right now until we can get some in. Or I guess I could try and make some.” She’d watched the chef who taught her class make some, and it looked easy enough. Maybe she could try that.

“I’ve got it on the list to order,” Audrey continued. “But, we’ve had some…I don’t want to say complaints, but…comments…that things have been a little undercooked.”

“Undercooked?” Gigi repeated. Her heart sank. Here she thought she’d been doing so well, that she’d actually made a halfway decent cupcake. Sure, it was just a basic recipe off the internet, but everything had smelled so good when she pulled them out of the ovens. Maybe she should have tried one first. “I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t make anyone sick!”

“No one got sick—nothing like that. The cake part is just a little gluey, you know? Look, I understand that industrial convection ovens take some getting used to, so don’t worry about it. Even Roderick had to play around with some of his stuff when he started here. I just thought I’d let you know so that you could adjust your baking time.”

Gigi knew she couldn’t blame the oven, but she was not about to admit that out loud. She couldn’t let on that she was faking her way through this. If the cupcakes needed to bake longer, then they would bake longer. That’s all there was to it. Maybe she should practice at home.

“Thank you for letting me know. I’ll leave them in for another minute or so and see what that does,” Gigi said, hoping it sounded correct. Since Audrey simply smiled and told her she’d see her later, it must have been a satisfying enough answer. It just didn’t leave Gigi feeling very good about herself.

* * *

Holden

If Holden hadn’t known any better, he would have thought that the blinking cursor on his screen was mocking him. Why was this so hard? He used to long for the days when he would have enough downtime to get all the ideas bouncing around his head onto the page. Inspiration always managed to hit when he was in the gym or out for a run—moments when he could do absolutely nothing about it. Thankfully, his muse had left him alone during matches so he wasn’t distracted, but the second he stepped off that pitch, it’d been fair game.

It was another perfectly crisp fall day in Vermont, and Holden was sitting out on the front porch with his laptop. He’d been hoping that maybe some sunshine and fresh air would help knock something loose in his brain. As if the bright fall colors had magic powers. Turns out, they didn’t provide anything other than a great view and a wonderful distraction.

The sound of his phone ringing stole his attention from the mostly blank Word document. Pulling it from his back pocket, he rolled his eyes playfully when he saw his godfather’s name on the screen.

“Uncle Field…” he greeted him.

“Why do you already sound suspicious, young man?” the familiar voice on the other end said.

“Well, old man, it’s the middle of the day. Some of us are working,” Holden retorted, giving his godfather a hard time. If there was anyone on this planet he could be a smart-ass to, it was this man. In fact, it was Caulfield Montgomery who had taught Holden how to be a smart-ass in the first place.

“Working? Does that mean you’ve typed more than four words today?”

Ouch. Holden winced at the all too accurate accusation. Caulfield was an incredibly successful author in his own right, so he understood a thing or two about writer’s block. Not that his understanding stopped him from harassing Holden about it, claiming it was all “part of the process.” Looking down at his laptop screen, Holden counted the words written there.

“Six, thank you very much.”

“Well, that’s more than four,” he laughed.

“I trust that mocking me about my word count isn’t why you are calling?”

“It’s October. I thought I’d check to make sure you remembered to winterize the pipes in the carriage house. Don’t want anything to burst.”

And there it was—the real reason he was calling. Mrs. Welch must have spilled the beans about the carriage house not only being occupied again, but by a very attractive woman. No, attractive wasn’t the right word for Gigi. Stunning, beautiful, sexy—all of those worked to describe the shapely little blonde who had stumbled into his life last week.

“Carriage house isn’t empty at the moment, so no need to winterize the pipes.”