Chapter 8
Chapter 8
AFTER RYAN AND THE possible “almost kiss” last week, questions had pinged around my brain like a bucket of table tennis balls let loose in a wind tunnel.
He’d flirted just enough to make me think he liked me, but had pulled back before anything had happened. Then there was the way he’d referred to love, like it was a four-letter word or something.
Which it was, of course. But not in that way.
Did it mean he wasn’t over his ex? Had she scarred him so much he no longer believed in love? Or was it just some throw-away comment, a guy thing I would never get?
So many questions, so few answers. Not my preferred ratio.
In the end, I made the call I wasn’t going to try to work him out. If he had something he wanted to say to me, I would simply have to wait until he was ready.
And if he wanted to kiss me? Well, I’d just have to wait for that, too.
As much as it killed me.
Arriving at the café while the birds were waking up to catch those early worms on Saturday, I noticed Addi’s florist shop was now totally empty. She was off on her adventure, following her heart to Orlando. I hoped it worked out for her. Moving to another hemisphere to be with someone was a big call.
I peered in the window. The flowers and pot plants were gone, even all the boxes, leaving an empty space. Suddenly inexplicably sad, I hoped Addi would find someone to take over her lease soon, to give this cute shop with the gorgeous courtyard a new lease on life. It deserved to be full of life, not empty and alone like it was right now.
Hold on. What was I thinking? It was a shop , not a living, breathing thing.
I filed “weird feelings about empty shop next door” away and unlocked the Cozy Cottage. Every day was a busy day at the café, and I had cakes to bake and coffee to brew.
I didn’t have any time to moon over men—or empty shops.
Later that day, Sophie and I were cleaning up after the lunch rush when Paige called me over to her laptop, which she’d set up on one of the kitchen counters.
“I have something to show you.” There was evident pride in her voice. She rotated her laptop so I could see the screen.
I studied it. It was a new page on our website entitled “Cozy Cottage Catering.” She’d used the same fonts and layout as the rest of the site, and added a photo of one of our trademark pink aprons with white polka dots. It was folded neatly beside a plate of hors d’oeuvres, all sitting on top of a rustic wooden table. The styling was perfect and totally “on-brand,” as I was learning to say.
“Oh, Paige,” I exclaimed, impressed once again with her handiwork. “That looks amazing. I love it!”
She beamed at me. “It’s not live yet. I wanted to get your go-ahead before I clicked the button.”
“I can’t imagine it looking more—” I examined the page as tried to find the word. Eventually, I landed on the feeling it gave me. “—right, I suppose.”
“I wanted to stick with what we were trying to achieve. You know, simple, good, honest food with a touch of our Cozy Cottage magic.”
“Well, you nailed it, chickadee. Let me have a quick look through it. Did you stick with the food plan?”
We had made a list of the types of dishes we thought we could make. Nothing too complex, simply good food, with an Italian twist. The list had made our mouths water as we’d compiled it. We were die-hard foodies, that’s for sure.
“Of course. See?” She clicked on a tab that read “Menus.”
Studying the list, I noticed it was all there, just as we’d agreed.
“And here’s the pricing section.” She clicked on another tab. “And our contact info, with a form for prospective clients to complete.” The screen had boxes for people’s names, email addresses, and the type of event they were planning. “If it all works the way it’s meant to, every time someone fills in this form, we’ll get an email. I’ve never done this type of work on a website before, but I watched some YouTube clips on how to do it. I think it’s worked out pretty good.”
The grin on my face was wide when I turned to Paige. “It’s perfect. I know I couldn’t have ever done anything like this.”
“Thanks. I’m no web expert, but I’ve learned a few things.”
“We’re really doing this, aren’t we?”
She returned my grin. “We are.”
A host of emotions raced through me, from nerves to excitement and everything in between.
Paige pulled her phone out of the front pocket of her Cozy Cottage Café apron and scrolled through it. “You might remember I’ve scheduled a meeting with our first clients for—” She looked up at me with a glint in her eye. “—right about now.”
I furrowed my brow. I recalled her mentioning an appointment with our first potential clients, but it had slipped my mind. “But, Paige, we’re about to close up for the day.”
She shrugged in response. “Sophie? You on it?”
She walked past us with a tray in her hands. “Totally on it.”
“See? Come with me. They should be here by now.” She closed her laptop and walked around the counter and out into the café. It was emptying out with no customers at the counter, just the few late-lunch stragglers we often got on a Saturday. I followed her to a table in the window.
When I spotted the two faces beaming at me, everything fell into place.
I let out a happy sigh, shaking my head. “Cassie and Will. You’re our first ever catering customers?”
Cassie’s grin was so broad, she looked like her face could crack in two. Her eyes roved from me to Will and back again. “If that’s okay with you?”
“Are you kidding? Of course it’s okay!” They stood up, their chairs scraping across the hardwood floors. I hugged them both, wondering how we’d manage to be bridesmaids and cater the wedding. We were going to need to invoke some sort of superpowers that day.
“That’s good to hear. We don’t have a Plan B,” Will said.
Paige and I sat down at the table with the happy couple.
“As soon as Paige told us you were going to do this, we just knew we wanted you to cater our wedding,” Cassie said.
Will nodded his agreement. “Although the deal is, I help choose the food and you do everything else, right, honey?”
Cassie shook her head, laughing. “Don’t forget you’ve got to turn up on the day, too.”
“Gotcha.” He gave her a wink.
“Look at them, Bailey. The first of our pact to marry her Last First Date.” Paige put her hand over her heart. “And we get to be a big part of it. This could not be more perfect.”
“That’s true.” Cassie gazed at her beloved, who returned her smile tenfold.
My neck became stiff. As good as Paige and I were at running the café, even branching out into light dinners and wine for our Cozy Cottage Jam sessions, we hadn’t ever catered an event before, let alone a wedding. Doing Cassie and Will’s was like we were trying to compete at the Olympics before we’d even begun to crawl.
I put my hand on Cassie’s arm. “Are you sure? We’re brand new at this, and we’d hate to mess things up for you.”
“We have faith in you. And you won’t mess it up,” Cassie replied. “You know the Cozy Cottage has always been special to us.”
“Yup,” Will agreed, giving his fiancée’s hand a squeeze. “I think Cassie fell for me when she found out this was my favorite café. I passed some kind of ‘chick test,’ right, Dunny?”
Cassie hit him playfully on the arm. “You said you weren’t going to use that terrible nickname anymore. I don’t like being called ‘toilet’ in Australian, thank you very much, Poop Boy .”
Paige and I laughed. Will had abbreviated Cassie’s last name, Dunhill, to “Dunny” a long time ago, and she’d retaliated with an equally terrible toilet-themed name for him. With the amount of ribbing they gave one another at the time, we should have known they would end up in love.
That level of teasing is often accompanied by some serious electricity.
Cassie turned back to me. “You have to make the cake. I know exactly what I want, too.”
“Let me guess,” Paige interrupted. “Chocolate and raspberry flourless cake, by any chance?”
Cassie grinned, her eyes dancing. “You know me too well.”
“To be fair, it’s all you’ve ever eaten here. In fact, without you, we’d be left with half a cake at the end of every day,” I replied with a chuckle. “Now that I think about it, it’s a miracle you’re not the size of a house!”
The four of us girls were certainly creatures of habit when it came to cake. Cassie’s favorite was our flourless raspberry chocolate cake, Paige’s was carrot cake with cream cheese frosting, Marissa’s was the orange and almond syrup cake, and mine was Cassata alla Siciliana . All Nona’s recipes, all totally delicious.
“Well, you can’t have too much of a good thing,” Cassie replied. “But for our wedding cake, we’d actually like to go more traditional.”
I raised my brows. “You would?”
Cassie shot Will a smile. “Yeah. My and dad kept their wedding cake and had a small slice every year. I think it’s romantic.”
“A traditional fruit cake then, huh?” I asked.
Cassie nodded. “Can you make that?”
Paige laughed. “You’re asking the queen of cakes if she can make a fruit cake?”
I smiled as I thought of the fruit cake Nona and I had made each year for Christmas. Although she made the tradition Italian cake, Pannetone , as well, she had this idea that guests In New Zealand would prefer the traditional fruit cake. So bake it we did. “Yeah, I can. I’ve got just the recipe.”
A group of late-lunch seekers entered the café, and Paige and I bid farewell to the happy couple to tend to the new patrons. Between the usual daily café business, we spent the rest of the day talking about the new catering business and thinking up ideas for Cassie and Will’s wedding. Sophie was a godsend, as usual, satisfying customer’s often elaborate coffee requests. Half caf, full cream, low foam, high foam, soy milk, caramel syrup.
I mean, whatever happened to ordering just a plain old cup of coffee?
The last customer served, we closed for the day. Paige and I sat down to finalize the website details before we went “live.”
“Ready?” Paige’s finger was poised over the mouse.
“Ready.”
I held my breath as she clicked the “publish” button.
“And . . . we’re live!”
“Congratulations, you two.” Sophie peered over my shoulder at the screen. “If you need any wait staff, my roommate is always looking for some extra cash.”
I looked up at her. “Does she have waitressing experience?”
“ He does. And he’s cute, too,” she added with a wink. “He’s putting himself through med school. Gone back after a few years in the workforce.”
“Is he single? How old is he?”
I knew exactly where Paige was going with this.
“He’s single, and I don’t know. Thirty or something? Old.”
I chuckled. I remembered when I thought thirty was old, too. That ship had sailed.
“Thirty-something, single, smart, and cute?” Paige shot me a meaningful look.
“Paige,” I warned.
My mind instantly darted to Ryan. He was thirty-something, single, smart, and cute. And a total hot mess.
“Bailey, we’ll need wait staff,” Paige said. I shrugged in response. She was right, and a bit of eye candy couldn’t hurt for us old, single types. Well, old according to Sophie, anyway.
“Can you flick me his number?” Paige asked.
She slipped her phone out of her jeans pocket and tapped on the screen. “Done. His name is Jason Christie. See you ladies tomorrow.” She flashed us a grin as she collected her purse from the back of the kitchen.
“Cute name,” Paige lead.
I let out a sigh. “No way.”
“What? You signed up to the pact, and the speed dating thing didn’t work out.”
The memory of the men I’d met that evening had me shuddering. “Definitely not.”
“So, you need to put yourself out there.”
“Paige, as much as I love you, I don’t think ‘putting myself out there’ with an employee is a great way to go. No matter how cute he allegedly is.”
“I guess there is that. But we’re not giving up on this, you know.”
I shrugged. “Okay.” Although I would like a change of subject. “Now, how about we work out a few options for the wedding and then call it a night?”
Thinking about someone else’s happily ever after was preferable to thinking about my own lack of one. And I hoped throwing myself into a new business venture would be just the distraction I needed.