Chapter 8
Eight
Eva stood beside Maddy at the counter, listening to Mike enthusiastically describe cake. Exquisite. It had slipped out before she’d packaged it into something more professional.
She hadn’t meant to say it. She also hadn’t meant to mean it.
Mike got them set up at a table in the empty seating area, putting down three small white plates in front of them. ‘We’ll begin with a classic,’ he said brightly, pointing at a plate. ‘This is vanilla bean sponge, raspberry conserve, Swiss meringue buttercream.’
Eva nodded, grateful. It wasn’t dangerous to compliment the looks of a cake.
Maddy picked up her fork. She was still pink from the compliment, Eva noticed. Stop noticing, she told herself.
‘Right,’ Mike said. ‘Small bite first. Let it sit. You want the buttercream to warm slightly before you judge it.’
Maddy glanced at Eva as if to confirm this was normal. Eva gave her an encouraging nod. ‘I know eating cake doesn’t usually have rules, but he’s not wrong.’
Maddy took a bite, as did Eva. The buttercream wasn’t too sweet. The raspberry cut through nicely. A solid cake.
Maddy chewed with solemn concentration. It was absurdly endearing.
‘How much does a wedding cake cost?’ Maddy asked as she swallowed.
‘Three tiers, feeding around a hundred people?’ Mike scratched his chin. ‘About a grand.’
Maddy started choking.
‘Get the woman some water, Mike!’ Eva instructed the baker.
Mike ran behind the counter, grabbed a glass, and filled it. He pressed it into Maddy’s hand, and she sipped, clearing out the crumbs from her shocked throat.
‘I do like it,’ Maddy said quickly when she regained the power of speech. ‘It’s just…’ She waved her fork slightly. ‘That’s like two quid a bite.’
‘He forgot to say that’s bespoke,’ Eva assured her. ‘But he does more basic packages.’
Mike barked out a laugh. ‘Oh yeah. I can get down to three hundred for my simplest design.’
Eva smiled. ‘Maybe lead with that next time.’
‘People rarely want simple,’ Mike explained. ‘Last week I did one that was topped with a miniature edible library with teeny individual books and a ladder. Three hundred real book recreations, which the bride listed.’
Maddy was agape. ‘That sounds amazing.’ Her eyes flicked to Eva. ‘I’m a librarian, you see,’ she added, almost embarrassed.
‘Ah,’ Eva said, unable not to find that slightly adorable. She could picture Maddy in the stacks, lost in a book, maybe a pair of oversized specs perched on the end of her nose.
‘It came out great, but you can’t imagine the trouble it was trying to ice the name Dostoevsky onto a book the size of a pinky nail. I had to charge fifteen hundred for that,’ Mike said.
Maddy sighed. ‘Well, that was a brief dream.’
Eva smiled.
Mike moved on to a lemon olive oil sponge with elderflower syrup and mascarpone frosting. Maddy’s eyes lit up at the word lemon. She closed her eyes briefly as she chewed.
‘Good?’ Mike asked.
‘Very good,’ Maddy said. She looked so happy. She was very cute when she was content.
Yes, she’s attractive, Eva admitted silently.
Eva reminded herself that this was normal. She could think someone was attractive, even a client, without it being the end of the world. She had boundaries. She could remain professional. It wasn’t a catastrophe.
It was harmless, really. Human. Eva would get this woman married and compartmentalise anything else.
A pretty face couldn’t take her down.