Liam was smirking. I could tell he was struggling to hold back a comment.
"Just say it, Liam," I growled. "You know you want to."
"Jack is judging a bake-off competition, and Chloe is a contestant. Also, he insulted her so don't count on any more sales," he said in one long run-on sentence.
The marketing director's eyes bugged out. "You insulted her?"
"It was an accident," I said.
"You can't do that!" he protested. "Look at her followers. She adds hundreds of new fans a day.Oprahretweeted her. One negative comment from her could set off a chain reaction of nuclear proportions!"
"I'm going to fix it," I said, trying to keep the annoyance off my face.
"What is this competition, by the way?" another senior marketer asked.
"My half-brother and one of the Holbrooks are doing this reality web TV series," Liam said.
"We should sponsor a few episodes," the director said.
"It was supposed to be more about promoting Frost Tower," I said. "I didn't want to involve Platinum Provisions because it seems sketchy."
"There's nothing sketchy about Chloe," the marketing director said. "She's like a pure fluffy cinnamon roll."
"I’ll give you Gunnar's contact," Liam said. "I think it’s a great idea. Jack's already a judge, so it makes perfect sense for us to be a sponsor."
After another hour of talking about marketing, I was finally able to escape. The food in the brown sack felt a little warm, but I stuck the butter in the fridge when I returned home. Then I set to work toasting nuts, measuring ingredients, and baking.
After several frustrating hours, I realized I could not, in fact, make the cookies. Oh, I was able to follow the recipe and make something vaguely cookie-like, but it didn't match the contradictorily perfect cookie that Chloe had made that was both fluffy and dense, sweet and savory.
The whole place smelled like sugar and charred nuts. I opened the French doors that led out to the large balcony to air out the penthouse.
It was freezing cold outside as I looked out over the city from the balcony. I was in a T-shirt. The cold numbed my skin, just the way I liked it. My husky liked it too. I looked down and saw a figure in a red coat walk out of the building. It couldn't be.
I ran and grabbed the antique telescope my sister had given me for my birthday a few years ago, one of the last times I had seen her, and focused it on the figure. Yep, it was Chloe. What was she doing alone at—I checked my watch—11 p.m.? She could be hurt.
Not my problem.
I stood on the balcony and watched her disappear down the street.
What if she was killed?
No more cookies.
I pulled on my boots and a light jacket—it was rarely too cold for me—snapped the husky into his harness, and set off. I made a few wrong turns, but I eventually found her. The red coat she wore made Chloe easy to spot.
I followed her from a distance. I didn't want to spook her, just make sure she was okay.
11
Chloe
New York City at night was magical. The snow fell softly, providing an attractive backdrop for the well-dressed people walking down the street.
When I'd come to New York City the last time, I had been a young girl, but I'd fallen in love with the glamor and the sights. I promised myself I would move here permanently, and here I was. I had also thought I would have money, a swanky apartment, and a handsome, wonderful boyfriend, but that was clearly unrealistic. At least I was here in the city though.
For how long, I wasn't sure. If I didn't win the competition or if I was kicked out too early, then I wouldn't have enough time to build my platform. If no one wanted to hire me as a pastry chef, I couldn't stay. My vision, of course, was my own bakery franchise, but that was looking more and more like an unrealistic pipe dream. I would settle for a job making cookies for hotel guests if that was what would help me stay in New York City.
I stopped in front of a Kate Spade window display. I loved Christmas window displays. No one did them anymore in my dinky little Midwestern town, but here in New York, they were drool worthy. Kate Spade had purses shaped like Christmas ornaments hanging from the ceiling just inside the window. White and silver scarves of wool, fur, and gauzy silk were draped on the floor like snow. It was simple yet elegant.
