30
Penny
“You’ve never baked?” Molly asks, clearly confused, looking at the woman sitting opposite her.
I’d say I told you so, but at this point, it seems kind of redundant.
Julie, the woman we’re currently interviewing, had a large list of accomplishments and qualifications listed on her resume. I may have only read it three minutes before she arrived, but still, it was impressive.
Seems none of that was true, though.
Shocker.
“Oh,” Julie mumbles, her cheeks flushing red. “Well, no, but surely it’s not that hard.”
How dare she.
“Look, Julie,” I say, more than a little annoyed now. “I don’t understand why you’re even here. I can’t and I won’t just throw you in my kitchen and hope for the best simply because you want a job. Unfortunately, this interview is a waste of our time, and yours.”
She looks like she wants to cry by the time I’m finished, and I don’t feel bad in the least. I’m hungry, I’m tired, and my ass hurts from sitting here for so damn long. I need a cookie and a fucking nap. Not another person wasting my time.
“Thank you for your time,” Evie adds sweetly at the end of my sentence, trying to ease the blow of my words as she always does. “It was lovely to meet you.”
I scoff and she kicks my foot under the table, her smile not wavering for a second.
Once Molly has escorted Julie from our staff room, I groan, lean back in my chair and stretch my tight muscles, making a mental note to do some online shopping when I get home and order comfier chairs for in here.
“Alright,” Evie says to both Molly and me as Molly walks back into the room, looking defeated. “One more. Let’s hope this is it.”
Molly crosses her fingers and holds them up as she takes her seat back beside me, and Evie passes us both a new resume to look over.
“Sophie Rivers,” I mumble, reading aloud. I skim through the rest until I read a sentence that makes me pause. “She owned her own café?”
Evie grins and nods. “Yep. Saved the best for last. And she really did, because I stalked her socials. She only sold it because she was relocating.”
“From where?”
“Hamley Bridge. Down in the Barossa.”
“Interesting,” Molly says, flipping the piece of paper in her hand over to find the other side blank, before placing it on the table in front of her. “I’ll go get her then.”
Unexpected nerves have my stomach rolling.
She owned her own place…
Why would she want a temporary position at an already established café?
Evie and I both watch silently as Molly leaves the room, resume in hand, and re-enters with Sophie beside her a minute later.
I’d been expecting someone a little older, maybe a woman with deep smile lines and a couple grey hairs. You know, like a mum that loves to bake. What I’m faced with is a woman in her, I’d guess, mid-twenties, with long, curly, strawberry blonde hair, freckles and the whitest, straightest teeth I’ve ever seen.
Sophie smiles in greeting, and Evie and I do the same in return, although I’m sure mine looks a lot more forced. Molly directs her to a chair beside Evie, and I watch as she carefully tucks her blue daisy printed sundress underneath her as she sits.
Molly takes her seat beside me and immediately jumps into the interview. “Alright, Sophie. Tell us a little about yourself.”
So, she does, and I want to hate her. I do. But how can I? She’s passionate. Kind. Sweet as fucking pie, and it makes bile rise in my throat as I watch her giggle with Molly and Evie as if I’m not even here. It isn’t until she turns her head to me and speaks that I tune back in to what they’re saying.
“Sorry, what was that?” I ask, feeling uncomfortable in my own fucking staff room.
“I was just saying that you’ve got such a fantastic reputation. Some of the locals from Hamley Bridge travel all the way down here at least once a month to see what new pastry filling you’ve come up with. It’s crazy. I hope someday that I’m as well known for doing what I love as you are.”
I don’t say anything. I just plaster on another fake smile.
“Right, well,” Molly jumps in, clearly reading the room. “It was so fantastic to meet you, Sophie. We’ve got a couple more candidates to interview, but we should have an answer for you by the end of the week if that works?”
Sophie looks confused for a moment and looks between Molly and me before shaking it off and beaming at the three of us. “Thank you so much for the opportunity. I can’t tell you how much I want this job. It’d be an honour to work in your kitchen.”
Again, she looks at me, and I avert my eyes, because I can feel the tears beginning to well.
Why am I about to cry? Who knows. I’ve stopped questioning my body’s reasoning.
Quickly, Molly ushers Sophie out of the room and comes back in with concern written all over her face. “Penny, what the hell?”
“You want to hire her, don’t you?” The question sounds more like an accusation.
“You don’t?” Evie asks. “She’s perfect .”
I roll my eyes, hating the fact that Evie, of all people, just described my replacement as perfect. “She was wearing a sundress .” I may be grasping at straws, but it’s the best I’ve got. Hell, I’d rather hire fucking Julie . At least then I’d know I’d be missed while I’m on leave.
“And?” Molly says from across the room. “What’s wrong with that?”
“It’s unprofessional!”
“You’re wearing a dress! And crocs,” Evie shoots back at me.
I glare at her, and she grins. It’s hot, for one, and she bought me these fucking shoes and she knows damn well that none of my others fit me right now. “I’m pregnant. And I’m not being interviewed .”
“Pen,” Molly begins. “What’s going on in that head of yours? You look like you’re about to have a panic attack. We talked about this . You’re not allowed to be on your feet all day, considering your blood pressure is still on the high end of normal, and we need someone in here to help out. You coming in at the crack of dawn to try and sneak in an extra few hours of work before Evie and I get here isn’t sustainable, and you know it. You’re going to hurt yourself again, and then what will you do?”
Rather than answer the question like an adult, I spit out the first thought that comes to mind. “Her name is Sophie!”
Molly looks to Evie and then back at me, one eyebrow quirked. “Okay…”
“We’ll be Molly, Penny, Evie, and Sophie !” Neither of them seems to get my point, so I add, “That’s far too many ‘ee’s’ for one cafe!”
Molly throws her hands up and Evie snorts, as if I’m joking. “Good lord, we can’t not hire the girl because of her name.”
“And why not?”
“Well, it’s discrimination, for one,” Evie says.
“Only if people find out that’s why we didn’t hire her,” I mumble, sliding down my seat a little and crossing my arms.
I’m already twenty-five-weeks into this pregnancy, and even though I’m all healed and feeling good, I know that between the midwife appointments and everything else I need to organise, we need the help. I need the time to train my replacement, and Sophie is the right fit.
I’m going to lose this fight. I know I am. But I can’t let it go.
“You’re crazy. You know that, right?” Molly says, running a frustrated hand down her face before pointing her finger at me. “And if you’re not going to be a big girl and tell me what the actual problem is, then we’re hiring her. She’s perfect for the position.”
There’s that word again.
“No, we’re not!” I sound like a child, but I’m past the point of caring.
“Penny,” Molly snaps, shooting me her best ‘mum’ look.
I mimic her expression, because I, too, have mastered that look after raising little miss Emma alongside her.
Evie stands as Molly and I continue to stare at each other, collects the resumes from the table and tucks them under her arm. “Right. Well, you’re both crazy. I’m going to leave you two to… do this , and Penny, if your only reason for not wanting to hire her is because of her name, well, then your vote is vetoed.”
Molly nods, agreeing with her, and I’ve lost.
I don’t want Sophie cooking my recipes, serving my customers, or touching my stuff.
I don’t want to cut back my hours or take a break.
I don’t want to hire someone to fucking replace me, especially someone like her .
This feels like the final nail in my coffin.
Like I’m being edged out.
As I feel the tears begin to well in my eyes again, I shake my head and stand as quickly as I can. “Fine.”
“Penny, sweetheart,” Molly says sympathetically, clearly catching on to the wobble in my voice.
I wave a hand as I make my way across the staff room toward the door. I’m being silly, and my hormones are getting the better of me. I know that. “I just need a cookie,” I say as I walk out.
“Pen,” Evie calls out, now sounding a little worried. “Sweetie…”
Instead of stopping and getting myself something to eat like I probably should, I keep my head down, and I leave the café.
My café .
Once I’m in the driver’s seat of my car, I finally let myself have a little cry, take some deep breaths, and I try to rationalize with myself, but I can’t seem to stop more tears taking the place of the old ones, so, I pull my phone from my purse, and I call the only person I want to speak to right now without lingering on that fact for too long.
“Yep,” Beckett answers after five rings, making me wince. He sounds busy. Shit, I shouldn’t have bothered him. After a moment of silence, mainly because of the lump still sitting in my throat, but also because I don’t know what to say now, I hear movement, and then Beckett’s voice changes entirely. “Penny? You there, Love? Sorry. I didn’t look at the caller ID. I just figured it was Ryan calling me again.”
I clear my throat and wipe at my cheeks. “Yeah, sorry. I, uh, didn’t think. We can talk later.”
“Woah, woah, woah. What’s going on, gorgeous? You crying right now?”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Little bit.”
“What happened? Who the fuck made you cry?”
“No!” I rush out. “No, I’m okay. I just, I don’t know. Wanted to talk to you, I guess.”
He blows out a long, low breath. “You did?” I can hear the smile in his voice now.
I sigh and rest my head back against the seat. “We found a new baker today.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. She’s perfect .”
Beckett doesn’t speak for a minute and then surprises the shit out of me by saying, “No one can replace you, Penny.”
As my heart clenches, I place my hand on my chest and close my eyes, forcing more tears to escape down my cheeks. “ She could.”
“You tell me one thing this woman’s got on you.”
I scoff, open my eyes, and list out reasons while counting them off on my fingers. “She’s bubbly. She smiles all the fucking time. She ran her own café, alone . She makes her goddamn butter from scratch-”
“So what?” he replies, a little edge to his tone. “So. Fucking. What?”
“They’re not going to want my angry chocolate cake if they can have her friendly fucking scones, Beckett! They won’t want me to come back.”
He snorts, and I pull my phone away from my ear to glare at it for a second. “Are you laughing at me right now?”
“Nope.”
“You are!” I screech. “Don’t laugh at me. I’m mid meltdown!”
“Sweetheart,” he says, lowering his voice. “You’re amazing. Your angry chocolate cake is my favourite dessert. You know this, and Molly and Evie couldn’t replace you if they tried.”
His words do nothing to make me feel better because I can tell he’s trying not to laugh through the entire speech. “I hate you.”
“I know,” he replies, allowing himself to laugh now. “But I love you, so it’s alright.”
“Ugh,” I groan, not even having the energy to deal with that statement.
“Look,” he says softly. “I’m finishing up here in ten minutes. Why don’t I stop by Papa’s Pizza on the way home, grab us a late lunch, and we can spend the rest of the afternoon vegged out on the couch? We can watch that movie you were talking about the other day, if you want.”
“You’re going to watch 365 Days with me?” It’s impossible to keep the excitement out of my voice despite my mood.
“That’s the one.”
My heart literally flutters at the thought of spending the afternoon on the couch with him, watching my favourite movie while demolishing a large Hawaiian. “Okay,” I say, doing my best to sound unphased by the offer. “I’ll see you soon then. Make sure they put-”
“Extra feta and pineapple on your pizza. I know. I’ll check it before I leave, I promise.”
“Well… good.” With that said, I hang up and toss my phone onto the passenger seat, feeling a little lighter knowing that my afternoon’s going to be a hell of a lot better than my morning’s been.
A knock on the glass of my window makes me jump and when I turn and see Sophie standing there, a pink and green floral tin in her hands and a smile on her face, I have to make a conscious effort not to grimace.
Spoke too bloody soon.
Quickly, I wipe my cheeks, thank God that I didn’t bother putting mascara on today, take a breath and press the button to lower my window.
“Sorry to bother you,” Sophie says, bending a little so her face is more level with mine. “I left these in the car, forgot to bring them in for the interview, and I just… it seems like maybe you need them.”
“Oh,” I say. “Uh, thank you…” I take the tin she’s holding out for me and place it on my lap, and then, without another word, she smiles again, straightens and she then leaves me in peace.
Deciding to get it over with quickly, I rip the lid off the tin, toss it onto my passenger seat and stare down at the cookies. I grab the smallest one, sniff it, and then take a bite. They’re red velvet, white chocolate chip, and, of course, they’re delicious .
I can’t stop once I’ve started, so after devouring another five, I force myself to put the lid back on and chuck the tin into the back seat, away from me and my endless pit of a stomach, just as that little voice in my head whispers, “ They’re better than yours.”