Chapter 4
“I have no idea what I was thinking, Char. How am I supposed to attend Gigi’s birthday party and behave as though I belong there? It’s not like I can pretend the gala never happened.”
Char, or Charlotte as she was known to everyone else, stepped from the massive walk-in refrigerator where she’d just stored some cookie dough for the next day. “I can’t believe the wanker never apologized. I also can’t believe you agreed to bring the cake. Why not have the delivery service drop it off and show up dressed to kill later? Make him eat his words from the gala. I still can’t believe dear, sweet little Gigi is related to the tosser.”
I straightened with a piping bag of chocolate in my hand. “Hey, I did charge him for delivery. I don’t care if he invited me. He’s not getting off if I’m bringing the cake.” I bent over and continued piping out bat wings on parchment paper.
My best friend laughed and turned on the mixer. “Well done, you. I would’ve made him pay for the coffee too.”
With a shake of my head, I bit my lip while I concentrated on keeping my lines steady. “No, I don’t want to be indebted to him in any way, nor do I want him indebted to me. After the party, all will go back to what it was. Gigi will come into the shop as she always has, and with any luck, I’ll never see William Darcy again.” I stood. “There, that’s the last one.”
Char’s eyes narrowed, and I stiffened so I didn’t take a step backward. “Oh, my God. You like him!”
I startled. “No! No, I don’t.”
My best friend guffawed, a boisterous laugh for someone who stood about five foot two. Charlotte grew up in London, the daughter of Chinese immigrants. She spoke fluent Mandarin, which did come in handy in one of the most culturally diverse cities in the world. The woman could also bake anything, and I mean anything.
She propped a hand on her hip. “I know that look, and I’ve heard that denial before. You can’t hide shit from me, Lizzy.”
I dropped the bag on the counter and threw up my hands. “Fine! When he first bumped into me, he was kind and asked if he could buy me a drink. We went out on the balcony, and I suffered from just enough verbal diarrhea to embarrass myself—”
“You talked about your family,” she said matter-of-factly. What could I say? Char knew me better than I knew myself sometimes.
“Yes,” I said in a groan. “I wasn’t going to turn down a drink. Despite the pinched, judgmental expression he sometimes wears, he’s hot. I doubt he’d ever give me a second glance otherwise.”
“Stop!” Char pointed at me with a hard glare and her lips pressed into a fine line. “You always do that. Stop letting what your parents said in the past color how you see yourself. You had more than one guy at culinary school wanting to ask you out before you started seeing Denny. Get your head out of your ass and realize that you’re gorgeous and have a figure that would make most men drool.” She glanced down at herself. “At least you don’t have the curves of a ten-year-old boy.”
I almost spit out the sip of water I’d just drank. “You’ve never mentioned having an issue with your body.”
“I don’t have a problem with it. I’m a lesbian. I like curves, but I don’t care if I have them.” Her relaxed posture and slight shrug reinforced the truth in her words.
“Then why mention it?” Seriously!
“Because if I was straight, I would think it was a problem and would envy you. How many men check out a woman with no tits and a flat ass?” She pointed at me again. “Don’t laugh. You know it’s true.”
I covered my face with my hands. My water had almost ended up all over those chocolate bat wings I’d just finished. After I shook my head, I let my hands fall. “Well, you never had to grow up with the epitome of beauty. Jane attracted the attention of every boy in high school, and my parents never let me forget how perfect she is.”
Char lifted a hand, palm out. “I get that, and it’s a fucking shame. She may have a more classic look with her blonde hair and willowy figure, but you’re more of an exotic beauty with your black curls and dark eyes. Don’t discount yourself. As women, we have enough people who try to bring us down, the last thing we need to do is diminish our own value. Men may have ideals of a woman who looks like Jane as their wife, but you’re the one they fantasize about at night.”
My cheeks burned so bright; the glow could surely be seen in New Jersey. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Why? That’s not a bad thing—as long as they don’t treat you like a one-night stand, that is.”
I waved my hands in front of me. “Okay, no more. I have a serious question, and I need a serious answer.”
Char leaned against the stainless counter. “Why? Being serious isn’t fun.”
“After the Halloween reading I did, Mr. Goulding, Zio’s attorney called. That space my uncle bought to open a smaller location of Novel Books has another building next door for sale. He wanted to know if I was interested.”
Char crossed her arms over her chest. “What are you thinking?”
I exhaled to relieve the tightness in my shoulders. “Well, I’ve been asked more than once in the past month or so why I’ve never opened another location of the Buttercream Beanery. I could say a bunch of reasons: the one location keeps me busy, what if it doesn’t work out, and lastly, you’re the only person I’d trust to run it and I don’t want to lose you.”
She gasped at the last. “You’d expect me to run it?”
I tilted my head back and forth. “Who else would I hire for the job? You know this store backwards and forwards as well as all of the recipes and can do my job as well. If I ever expand, you’re the only person I can envision in my place there.”
“Where’s the building again?”
“The building Zio bought is in the East Village. The building next to it and on the corner has a restaurant or coffee shop front with a lot of glass and there’s room on the sidewalk for outdoor seating. As people have moved out of the apartments on the second and third floors since its purchase, the spaces haven’t been let out again. At this point, we have enough room to gut those floors and have a decent-sized bookstore—not as big as this location—but it was never meant to be as large. The other building would be attached to the bookstore, like here, but it would carry a smaller menu. You’d still have special orders and the pastries. What do you think?”
Char gave me a side-long look. “I’d get a raise?”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course you would. We’d have to renovate first, so dates and such will be set in stone as soon as the building is purchased and we have a contractor hired. You’ll need to be involved. These are going to be your kitchens, and they should be set up to your specifications.”
“We collaborated on the ones here. I’d rather keep to what’s familiar.”
“That’s easy enough. The lawyers are finding out how much of the second building is let before we make an offer. I’d like to have a large shop on the first floor and the kitchens on the floors above. If there’s an empty flat, you could move in as part of the agreement. That way, you can live on site.” Char currently lived in an apartment on the other side of Zio’s—well, now my house. He’d kept the apartments to rent out on the top floor, and when one tenant moved out, he’d offered it to Char. From the moment she came with me from England, he’d treated her as though she was another niece. We’d shared my tiny apartment for over a year before he’d been able to offer her one of her own.
She rocked on her feet, then covered her mouth with her hands and shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re giving me this opportunity.”
“Hey, we need to buy the building first. If we can manage that, I think we’re home free. Zio was saving and preparing to expand the business for a while. I’ve just decided that maybe those who’ve been asking me about it were doing so for a good reason.”
“Who was the last person who mentioned it?”
“Would you believe William Darcy?”
Char paused her movement and leveled a heavy gaze on me. “Are you sure this isn’t some tactic to cause the business financial difficulties? Everyone knows he wants Novel Books. I doubt he’d pass up Buttercream Beanery. We’ve built up a steady business and clientele. He’d be a fool to sell us off or underestimate us.”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so. Something in the way he said it. . . I don’t think he was scheming.” I picked up the piping bag to put it away. “Do you want to go with me tomorrow afternoon? The realtor is supposed to give us a showing.”
“I’m in,” said Char without hesitation. “Lizzy?”
I’d turned to put the chocolate away but looked back at her.
“Thank you. I’m perfectly happy to work with you here, but that you’d offer me this opportunity means everything.” Before I could react, she lunged forward and hugged me. I froze for a moment. Char never hugged anyone.
“Hey, you’ve been my best friend since we met that first awkward day of classes. You taught me how to live in London. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Are you crying?
When Char drew back, she wiped her eyes. “No! And don’t you dare tell anyone otherwise! Oh, and before I forget, Annie wanted me to invite you to Thanksgiving dinner. Her mother is going to France for two weeks, so she’s decided to entertain her friends.” Char had started dating Annie eight months ago. They were taking things slow, especially since Anne had yet to come out to her mother.
“How’s that going?”
“About the same,” said Char with a sigh. “Nothing will change until she comes out, but I can’t and won’t force her. The situation has to be right for her. I’m just tired of sneaking around and pretending we’re nothing more than friends.”
“Have you thought about how long you’re willing to wait?”
She shrugged. “I’ll give it another couple of months, at least I think I will. If nothing changes, I’ll have to move on.”
Her tone was a bit tight, but only someone who knew her well would hear the subtlety. It was obvious Char had developed feelings for Annie quickly. The last thing I wanted was to scrape my best friend’s heart up off the floor.
“Enough of the serious talk,” said Char. “What do you have in your closet that will knock William Darcy on his arse? After all, if he last saw you in that witch costume, we need to remind him of how badly he screwed up at the gala.”
“You’ve seen everything in my closet.” Char dug through it often enough, usually bemoaning that she couldn’t borrow my clothes. Our figures were drastically different.
“That’s true. We should go shopping.”
“No,” I whined. I hated trying on clothes! For my gala gowns, I had Vera’s Vintage down the street who called me when they had something I could wear. It was so much easier than searching through racks of dresses at one of the department stores.
Char held up a finger. “You also need to replace that pair of silver strappy heels the wanker broke when he ran into you. Not a cheap pair this time either. You need to dress as the owner of two successful businesses—two successful and expanding businesses. Maybe we need to look at some Jimmy Choos or Louboutin’s.”
“You’re living vicariously through me. Don’t think that I don’t know—”
“Yes, I am, my lovely. Come on. Let’s get changed. We can’t go out covered in flour and powdered sugar.”
I suppose I couldn’t argue. Char would never let me.