“Okay, okay. I’ll see you in an hour. Tell Meredith I want a strawberry cupcake with champagne frosting.” It was one of the cakes Alex had at her wedding.
I dreamed about the delicate strawberry flavor offset by the bite of champagne in the frosting. Of course, the dark chocolate with mocha buttercream had been amazing too.
“Never mind. I’ll decide when I get there.”
I pulled the rest of the samples for the Benoit project, including the existing paint color and wood sample. Moving the bits of materials around like puzzle pieces, I sorted them intogroups. I left the three strongest choices on my desk so I’d see them as soon as I returned. Sometimes, that first glance after time away made the right choice instantly clear.
It wasn’t far from my design studio to I Dough. I’d slipped home for a quick shower after my tryst with Jake and thankfully put on wedge heels with my lapis blue skirt and shawl collared jacket. I’d added a white blouse, all with the intent of giving me an extra boost in my meeting with Essex. The meeting that seemed doomed to never happen.
Before I could go too far down that frustrating rabbit hole, I closed up and set off toward Meredith’s, grateful my shoes could handle the distance. I’d just crossed Chartres Street when my phone chimed with Jake’s ringtone. I’d been so frustrated about my meeting cancelling and then distracted by Charlotte, I’d forgotten about Jake’s postcoital text. He sent one every time we got together. Two hours after I left, like clockwork, I got athank you for the sextext.
It was the hookup equivalent of flowers the next day or maybe a follow up email from your hairdresser without the refer-a-friend coupon. It made me smile every time. And reminded me of all the deliciously filthy things we’d done together.
ME
It was my pleasure. As always.
JAKE
Mine too.
I grinned to myself like the sexually satisfied woman I was as I walked the next block. When I neared Jackson Square, I remembered the missing hand towel and stopped in the shade for a moment to make a note to order replacements and have them sent to the attention of Anna, Jake’s housekeeper. I didn’tknow what happened to the originals, but I didn’t believe the laundry story. Anna ran too tight a ship for that.
Everything in Jake’s home went through Anna. Otherwise the boxes would sit unopened inside the door. Or worse, Jake would open the package, take out whatever he needed and let the rest sit in the box on the floor without putting them away. I couldn’t live like that. It would drive me nuts. I wasn’t sure Jake even noticed, but it didn’t matter. He’d come up with a system to deal with it. Plenty of people didn’t get that far.
Charlotte was already at the bakery when I arrived, standing in front of the display case and gazing at the array of cakes and pastries. The herringbone tile we’d chosen for the floor was holding up beautifully despite the steady traffic, and the distressed white cabinetry managed to feel bright and warm and welcoming at the same time. Robin’s-egg blue accents dotted the rest of the space.
When we’d talked about the design, Meredith had been drawn to birds and their nests—both the idea of home and precious potential. There were a few literal touches like the antique brass bird pulls and the delicate metal twig silverware, but the rest was more subtle while still aligning with Meredith’s vision. Standing behind the case holding the beautiful, delicious things she made, my friend looked like she was exactly where she belonged.
“This is an unexpected treat. What’s up?” I hugged Charlotte and reached over the top of the display case, careful not to smudge the glass, to squeeze Meredith’s hand.
“Pick your poison first and then I’ll tell you both.” Charlotte looked happy—happier than I’d ever seen her in the middle of the workday. I didn’t know if it was Ford or something else, but whatever gave my friend an extra bit of joy worked for me.
“Call my pastry poison again and you won’t get any,” admonished Meredith. “It’s neither poison nor a guilty pleasure. More cake makes the world better, not worse.”
“You are absolutely right. Please, don’t cut me off. I don’t want to live in a world without your double chocolate cupcakes,” said Charlotte.
Meredith nodded regally, Charlotte appeared appropriately repentant, and I stifled a giggle. She slid a chocolate cupcake piled high with dark chocolate icing onto a white plate with tiny blue dots around the rim and turned her attention to me. I’d come in wanting the strawberry, but faced with so many choices, it was almost impossible to decide. In addition to the collection of conventional cupcakes with non-conventional flavor pairings, like pink peppercorn with violet and lemon tarragon, there were a whole array of individual cakes, each shaped and decorated differently. Tiny bits of art just waiting to be eaten.
I moved aside to make room so the employee standing next to Meredith could help the line of customers forming behind me. Making Meredith our midday treat supplier was one thing; interfering with her business was something else entirely.
“Can I have the toasted coconut praline?”
“I love those. The pralines come from Madame LeBlanc’s. She makes them special for me.” She put the cupcake, with its mountain of toasted coconut covered buttercream, on a plate and handed it to me. I resisted—barely—plucking the chocolate and caramel coated pecan from the top. She chose one of the pale-yellow lemon and lavender cupcakes for herself and set the plate on a tray with a white porcelain coffee pot and cups. She paused to lean in to press a kiss against my cheek before leading us to an empty table with a Reserved sign in an alcove in the back.
It was one of the things I loved about the layout of the store. The front had a few two-tops and plenty of space for the line thatinevitably formed for Meredith’s pastries, but we’d been able to section off a handful of tables toward the back to create a more intimate seating arrangement. The tables filled quickly, but they gave people a place to linger and made the whole experience that much more of an indulgence. A different design would have let us squeeze more people into the space but it would have changed the feeling. It—like everything else—was a balancing act.
“I need some help,” said Charlotte as soon as we were settled in with our coffee and cupcakes.
“Anything,” Meredith and I said in tandem, and Charlotte grinned back at us.
“I want to throw a party for Ford, and I was hoping you’d help.”
That wasn’t what I expected, but it wasn’t an unwelcome idea. Some people did needlework or pottery classes for fun. I liked to put together experiences. Pick the food and flowers and manipulate the setting to create a moment for people. Alex’s wedding had been my biggest undertaking so far. I had no interest in changing careers. I’d leave that to the professional party planners. I loved creating beautiful spaces for people to live and work in, but there was something about adding the element of time that made planning the occasional event fun for me. Especially when it was for someone I loved. I didn’t love Ford yet, but Charlotte did, and I loved her. If things kept going the way they looked like they were, I’d have a chance to love him too.
“Of course. Whatever you need,” said Meredith, echoing my thoughts. “What’s the party for—not that Ford isn’t amazing in his own right—and when did you want to have it?”
“He just closed on his latest restaurant. I wanted to do something to celebrate. Something intimate. There will be press events and things he needs to do to promote the project, but I wanted something that was just for him.” Her face took on thisexpression while she spoke—not a dreamy stars in the eyes kind of thing…more a warmth that was unexpected in the woman her peers referred to as the Tiger Shark.
