“What about your promises of making me a partner?”
The chair creaked as Victor continued to sway. Seriously? How could he be so casual about this?
He lifted one hand, palm up. “It is I who should be upset. You embarrassed me in there.”
“What? How can you say that?” She was aware that her voice had risen, that the kitchen, normally full of chatter, had fallen silent.
“Correcting my answers, inserting yourself where you don’t belong.”
Robin’s face felt hot, her back prickly. “I’m starting to think I never belonged here.”
Story of her life.
Victor just shrugged.
She started unbuttoning her chef’s jacket, le Château du Gâteau embroidered on the chest. “I quit. I will find a new place to work.”
Victor smiled his signature smirk. “Good luck with finding another position. I know everyone in this town. I will blacklist you.”
“Good luck finding someone to fill in on short notice for the Cup,” she shot back.
“Eh, I’m sure Monique would love the position.” He gave a shrug and turned away.
Robin wrestled her arms out of the sleeves and dropped the jacket on the ground. She placed her foot on the fabric, then spun on her heel and walked out.
On the metro back to the small flat she shared with Elise, Robin checked the time on her phone. Mid-afternoon in Paris meant mid-morning in Deep Haven, Minnesota, where her grandparents lived. Robin’s heart rate had settled into an ache, and the devastation from the afternoon was only a dull roar. Maybe hearing Grandma’s voice would bring some comfort.
She pictured her grandma in the kitchen of Fox Bakery in Deep Haven. Grandma Elaine and Grandpa Jim had started the business together over fifty years ago. She had learned how to bake her first loaf of bread in their kitchen.
Robin cleared her throat, put on a happy voice as Grandma answered. As much as she longed for comfort, she wasn’t ready to tell Grandma everything. She pictured her grandma on the other end of the phone. She was likely in the bakery chatting with customers. She would have her silver hair tied with a brightly colored scarf, wearing a pair of pastel crepe pants to match.
“How is Paris?” her grandma asked.
Robin closed her eyes, focused on the warmth of the words. “I don’t know. Turns out I might not belong here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, you know.” Robin kneaded her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. She would not cry on the metro. “The French have a different way of doing things.” She cleared her throat, then opened her eyes and concentrated on the upholstery pattern of the seat in front of her. Greens whirled with oranges in a cacophony of color. “Sorry I’ve missed so many of your calls. What’s up?”
“Grandpa and I are going to Florida,” Grandma said. “Do you know anyone who could come and run the bakery for us for six weeks?”
“You’re going to Florida?” Somehow she couldn’t picture her Northern Minnesota grandparents lying on the beach down south.
Grandma’s voice echoed through the phone connection. “The doctor recommended your grandpa take some time off from the bakery, and my sister said we could use her beach home in Florida.”
Robin almost shot off her seat on the train. “Is he feeling okay?” When he’d had his heart attack, her grandma had insisted she shouldn’t come home. “You said his heart attack was no big deal.”
“And it was no big deal. But the doctor wants to keep it that way, so he said we should take some time off.” Grandma cleared her throat. “Anyway, I wondered if you had any contacts from school who would be available to help us out.”
Hmm, was there more to the story? “Sure. I probably do, but I have a better idea. I’ll come home.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“It’s okay, I need a break anyway.” She couldn’t bring herself to tell her grandma the whole truth—that she’d just lost her job at the bakery in Paris, that she was on her last thousand euros, that she’d completely messed up. “I can arrange a few things here and be back in Deep Haven by mid-January.”
“You’re an answer to prayer.” She heard her grandma swallow then clear her throat. “Grandpa and I will send you the money for the plane ticket.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
