Page 53 of The Sugar and Spice Bookshop Bakery

‘How come?’

‘The object of my affection owns a bakery. It’s a bit “coals to Newcastle”, if you know what I mean.’

The object of his affection? Did he mean her?

Well, he must do. There weren’t any other bakeries here in Applethwaite.

‘I must admit I was nervous about you tasting my baking. With you being a professional and all. And the shells are tricky – you have to get the dough thin enough or they’re chewy.’

‘These are definitely not chewy. They’re amazing. I wish I could make them.’

‘Want to learn? I happen to be a pretty good teacher.’

‘Sure.’

‘No time like the present. Unless you’re busy?’

‘No, not busy. I was just… well, I was just wondering what the hell I’ll do if Maddie gets this job. I’m scared I can’t pull it off by myself, you know. She’s been such a support.’

‘That’s just last-minute nerves,’ he says. ‘Completely natural.’

‘Maybe.’

‘Let’s take your mind off it by making cannoli. Although I haven’t brought my pinny.’

Louise laughs. ‘I can lend you one.’

She watches him take a pack of butter out of the fridge and stifles a giggle. He looks ridiculous in her floral apron. Her mind wanders for a moment, imagining that’s all he is wearing.

‘The dough is surprisingly simple,’ he says. ‘It’s the technique that matters.’

‘Yes, it’s always about technique.’

He looks up and smiles at her, and she blushes, aware that there’s an unintended double meaning in what she’s just said.

‘Same with the ginger cake,’ she clarifies quickly. ‘It’s all about the mixing.’

She watches as he demonstrates, his hands working the mixture with the same degree of confidence he’s showed when working with wood.

‘You try.’ He steps aside, watching with a critical eye, and she puts her hands into the mixture.

‘You’re pressing too hard,’ he says. ‘Gently, Luisa.’ Something shifts within her at the sound of her name on his lips – softer, somehow, in Italian.

He moves to stand behind her, wrapping his arms round her waist and putting his hands over hers, guiding the motion.

‘I feel like I should be humming “Unchained Melody”,’ he says.

‘What?’

‘You know. Like in Ghost. The famous pottery scene. With Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze. This is just like that.’

‘Only neither of us is dead. And I don’t look like Demi Moore.’

He laughs. ‘And I can’t dance.’

‘Dance?’ For a moment, she’s confused. ‘No, that’s a different film. I don’t think he dances in Ghost. Although I haven’t seen it for ages.’

‘No dancing,’ he says. ‘Okay, we should leave the dough to rest now. Move on to the filling.’