2
Juliette
“The baguettes are finishedout here. How much longer for the new batch?” Alice peeks her head around the corner.
I glance at Mom, who’s in charge of all things bread today, while I finish the mille feuille and macarons. She holds up one finger.
“One minute,” I call back to Alice, who is operating the front of the shop.
The weather has changed for the better, spring is here, so spirits are high, and all the parents and nannies of the Upper East Side are bringing their kids in for after-school treats and pre-weekend pastries.
It’s a madhouse, to say the least.
“Okay, they’re done, my love,” Mom calls over the romantic melodies of Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 5 playing softly through the speakers. I may not spend my days training anymore, but familiarity with his compositions’ sensuously rhythmic flow still calms my nerves on stressful workdays.
I carry my finished pastries out to the main case, placing them perfectly in a row while Alice chats up a customer, helping them choose between two options.
“I would go with the strawberry,” I offer, glancing over the counter. A wide smile stretches my face when I see it’s two of my favorite customers. “Pear Tarte Tatin is my favorite, but considering it’s strawberry season, and they were freshly picked this weekend, I would go with that.”
“Sounds perfect. Two to go, please. We’ll be back next week to chat, but this one will be late for dance if we don’t get out of here quickly.” Willa pats the little girl she nannies for on the head, who excitedly waves at me, and then they’re both rushing out the door.
After saying hi to one more regular customer, I run back to get the baguettes and from Mom.
While kissing her cheek, I glance down at her swollen hands. “You okay?” I ask, worried that her severe arthritis is causing her too much pain.
It’s the main reason I took over here, though she still helps most days. I think it would completely kill her spirit if she couldn’t, but more often than not, she’s overseeing the customers rather than creating beautiful pastries in the back like she’s done for the last twenty years.
So far, today has been a good day for her.
I’ve seen a light in her eyes that’s been missing recently, though I’m concerned with the extreme humidity that comes along with the impending summer months, her pain will soon be unbearable.
“I’m okay, Juliette. No need to worry,” she says as if I have a choice. I’ll always worry.
An hour later, Alice comes back to let me know Becks is here, and when I glance up at the clock, I see it’s much later than I realized.
“We’re done for the day, my love. Go see Becks, and I’ll be up soon to say hi.”
I kiss her again, then head toward Alice. “I’ll come up front. Thank you, Alice.”
Quickly, I wash my hands, throw my chef’s coat in the dirty pile, and head out to see Becks, wondering why the hell she’s all the way uptown during a workday.
“What in the ever-living hell happened to you?” I ask, wide-eyed and shocked as an extremely sweaty Becks stands in the middle of the shop, one hand on her hip, the other holding her wig.
“Do you have any cold water in the back?” she pants. “I already checked the fridge, and you’re out.”
“Um, sure,” I answer, still confused.
Lovely Alice comes running with a cup of ice water. “I’d hug you, Alice, but I doubt you want any of me touching you.”
“That would be correct.” She laughs, then heads to the back to help Mom with the last of the cleaning.
Alice is the sweetest person I’ve ever met and has worked for my mom for over ten years. I’ve never once seen her get angry or raise her voice. And trust me, that’s a challenging task when some of these entitled Park Avenue Princesses come in.
Becks strides over to one of the tables, and I follow suit, grabbing an extra chair to put my leg up. My poor body is sore today. On top of working all day, I had an intense physical therapy appointment this morning, and it’s finally catching up with me.
“Care to explain why you’re in workout clothes and look like you’ve jumped in the pool during work hours?”
“Stupid bitches.”
