Chapter One #3
Tish took the envelope and perused its contents.
“Hancock, eh? Good school. Kit, you wanted to go there, right?” Tish nudged her hard, but Kit soaked up the sharp pain of elbow meeting arm with a smile.
Okay, Tish was peeved that Kit overstepped her boundaries, but she didn’t have to hit her metaphorically below the belt.
Kit had dreamed of culinary school, yes, but bills and real life intervened.
What skills she’d perfected happened through practice and many a night spent watching baking tutorials, and it paid off.
She’d yet to hear or see a negative review of her desserts.
Tish looked up from the paper. “You also have a B.S. in Mathematics from the University of Wyoming?”
“See, there’s a plus,” Kit told her boss. “She could help you with the accounting, too.”
That earned her a sharp look and a cutting retort. “A math degree can be advantageous at a bakery.” She flicked her gaze toward Sidney, who rocked on her heels. “Baking requires exact measurements to yield a good product. It’s no secret.”
Kit huffed. What happened to a pinch of this or that for experimentation?
“Check it out,” Tish added, passing the resume to Kit. Along with her schooling, Sidney had barista experience and two years of volunteer work for a church charity kitchen. One might argue she was more qualified than Kit based on her paper trail.
Everybody who applied for work at Tish’s wanted to bake.
Kit couldn’t fault Sidney for that. Operating a cash register and putting food in a bag didn’t hold the same allure, but Kit enjoyed that work in the beginning because it brought her closer to their customers, who became regulars and friends.
When Tish’s last baking assistant resigned to open her own place in Williamsburg, she felt as though the heavens opened for her.
She loved to cook and create treats, and loved the boss who loosened the reins in the kitchen and let her dream.
She sensed Tish watching her, like she’d tell Sidney to forget it. Don’t call us, we’ll call you. The image of mouth-breathing Gloria, standing at the counter and staring at her with vacant eyes, chilled her to the bone.
Better to have more enthusiasm in the shop, despite the possibility of competition.
“I’m Kathleen Cheever.” She stuck out her hand. “Everybody calls me Kit.”
“And now that I know you’re not the IRS, I am Tish Richmond, the owner.
” Tish’s voice had a sharp edge to it, but Kit sensed more bemusement from her boss than annoyance.
Tish then gestured to her husband. “This is my husband Vinnie Petrocelli. He’s a mechanic and driver at Big Apple Limo, with whom we collaborate on special packages.
If you come to work for us you’ll see a lot of him. ”
“So to speak. Tish sees the most of me.” Vinnie approached and slid an arm around Tish’s waist. Kit bit her lip as the walk-in cooler memory resurfaced.
Pointing to the ground between them, Tish added. “I love your shoes, Sidney.”
Sidney looked down, and Kit followed everybody’s line of vision to where the young woman turned up each heel one at a time to show off her custom high-tops.
The right one featured a painted-on Pac Man about to gobble a bright power pellet, while the left highlighted a red, bug-eyed video game ghost.
“Do you always coordinate your shoes with your outfits like this?” Tish twirled her finger at Sidney’s ensemble. “Because I’m likely to hire you based on this alone. That is, if you want the front sales position.”
“In all honesty, I would love any job with a bakery. I’ll show up naked in just an apron.” Sidney laughed.
With those words, the image of a stripped Sidney Campbell filled Kit’s head.
No doubt the aspiring baker had a nice pair of perky breasts hiding underneath those t-shirt Pac ghosts.
Kit folded her arms over her chest and tensed, as though fighting off the cold.
Hopefully Tish and Vinnie wouldn’t suspect her fleeting thoughts had caused her skin to shiver with arousal.
“Well, we do have to abide by health codes.” Tish demurred, and winked. “What else you got besides Pac Man?”
“Oh, um…” Sidney looked completely caught-off guard. She probably expected to answer a pop quiz about sugar measurements and whisking etiquette. Kit quirked her lip to keep from laughing.
Kit then shook away her paranoia. Don’t assume everybody’s after your job, she scolded herself.
Tish likes you. The kitchen is plenty big.
She also considered the possibility of Tish greenlighting a food truck with their success.
They’d need more competent bakers to help, and Gloria lacked that experience.
“What say you, Kit?” Tish’s voice broke into her reverie.
Kit looked up and noticed many faces gazing at her with interest. Shit. She hoped she hadn’t missed anything.
“Would Monday morning be okay with you? For Sidney’s orientation?” Tish asked, presumably for a second time. “If so, you’ll need to come in an hour early.”
Sidney gasped, fisting her hands to punch the air. “Seriously? You’re really offering me a job right now?”
Tish took back the resume. “It’s my shop.
I don’t answer to any higher ups. I’ll send you details to the email you’ve listed here, about pay and our leave policy and other stuff,” she said, “but sure. I’m familiar with two of your references, and if they vouch for you, then you must be gold.
” She looked askance at Kit. “Kit’s my right arm, though. If she’s on board, so am I.”
“Oh, I am. And Monday will work great.” Kit extended a hand to Sidney and sucked in a breath at her soft touch. The strong, warm grip shot a pleasured sensation up her arm. She thought of how Sidney’s hands might knead a ball of dough, giving the same attention to a woman’s breasts.
Her breasts. Then down her belly to cup her…
“Thank you so much. I promise I won’t disappoint you,” Sidney said, looking at Tish. She tugged Kit, who then released her hand and laughed away the awkward moment. “I’ll see you Monday at opening, then.”
“An hour before,” Tish said, correcting her.
“Right.” Sid gave her a bashful smile and nodded her exit. Kit fixed on Sid’s cute little bottom as she disappeared into the crowd.
Seconds later, Tish touched her shoulder. “Well, that had to be the quickest job interview I ever held. I hope she doesn’t turn out to be a serial killer.”
Vinnie shook his head. “I’m glad Big Apple doesn’t hold interviews for drivers like that.”
Tish scoffed. “You okay with this?” she asked Kit. “A girl with a degree from a culinary school has ambitions, especially if it’s a second degree. It means she’s pivoting from one career to something new. She won’t want to work the front counter forever.”
“I’m aware, and I have no plans to change careers.” Kit eased away and rearranged the macarons display. “And everybody starts on the ground. I was in that position once myself. It can be fulfilling.”
Tish eyed her sharply as though unconvinced of Kit’s comfort. “If I decide to let her try out her stuff in the kitchen, am I going to hear complaints?”
“Not from me. Nothing wrong with that.” She answered too quickly. What could she say, though? Tish paid the bills, signed the paychecks.
Tish glanced at a grinning Vinnie. “No, not at all. I’m sure you’ll do well on your first day as trainer, seeing as how I have some orders to fill next week and you were rather enthusiastic about hiring her.”
“I’m sorry if I pulled rank on you, but we need a better customer-facing person on the floor.
” Kit unrolled the resume in her grip and read it again.
What brought a girl from Wyoming all the way to Virginia?
This area held a large military population, but Sidney listed no prior service.
Kit didn’t see a ring on her finger. Divorced, perhaps?
“Why let a good one get away?” she asked.
Especially a good-looking one.
“Well, I hope your Spidey sense is fine-tuned on this gal,” Tish said. “Since you’re on an authoritative high, there’s one more thing you can do for me before Monday morning.”
“What’s that?”
Tish arched an eyebrow at her. “Fire Gloria.”