Chapter Two
To say Regan felt like she was floating on a cloud the next morning was an understatement.
Nothing could get to her. Not the early hour. Not the guy on the subway who openly leered at her. Not the pile of garbage she had to walk around on the sidewalk. Not the gray, overcast sky or the threat of rain. Nothing could crap on her mood. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this light.
She flitted through the day, smiling, joking, and just basically feeling alive. Proud. Confident. When her lunch break hit, she asked Billy if she could have a word with him in his office.
He sat at his desk, his expression serious when she stepped inside and shut the door behind her, like he was waiting for a horrendous diagnosis from his doctor. “You’re quitting, aren’t you? Say it quick. It’ll hurt less.”
She shook her head and grinned at him as she pulled out a chair and sat. “I’m not quitting.”
His whole body melted down to the surface of his desk in obvious relief. He looked up at her with his cheek still on the wooden surface of it. “Oh, thank God. I had no idea what I was gonna do.”
“You’re silly,” she said. Then it was her turn to look serious. She swallowed, and it was loud.
Billy lifted his head, his relieved expression morphing into one of concern. “Are you all right? You’re not…sick or something? What can I do? What do you need?”
The flood of love Regan felt for this man threatened to swamp her, and not for the first time, she wondered what she’d done in some other life to get so lucky. “No, I’m not sick, but I do need to take some time off.”
Billy’s thick brows met in a V above his nose. “Okay.” He drew the word out, clearly waiting on more explanation.
Regan took a huge lungful of air and dove in. “I was accepted to the Bennett-Schmidt retreat this year.”
Billy blinked at her. Blinked some more, and Regan could almost see the words and their meaning get absorbed into his brain, knew exactly when he understood by the way his eyes lit up. He practically jumped out of his chair, throwing his arms out wide. “What? What? Holy shit, Regan. I mean, holy shit . Do you know how hard it is to get into that retreat? She gets thousands of applicants. Thousands. Holy shit. You did it. You did it! ” And then he was around the desk and wrapping her in his lanky arms, and before she could say a word, he tore open the door to his office and yelled out, “Everybody! Listen up. Regan was accepted to the Bennett-Schmidt retreat this year. Can you believe it?”
A rumble of conversation rolled through the bakery, which then transitioned into applause and cheers that grew in volume as employees from different parts of the building got the news and joined in. Soon, the entire work force of the bakery was cheering for her, coming up to her to shake her hand, give her a hug, congratulate her in some way. She knew all of them—the early-morning workers a bit better than the afternoon/evening workers—and her pride swelled as each of them showed how proud they were of her.
If she thought she’d been floating on her way to work, it didn’t compare to the rest of the day. Billy told anybody who would listen about the retreat, explaining to longtime customers what it took to be accepted to the retreat, how proud he was of her. Billy didn’t have kids, but Regan had always thought he would’ve made a great dad. Today only solidified that.
Despite the festive atmosphere in the bakery, she still did her job, spending the day making a list of things she was low on so Billy could get his order in on time, thinking up fresh ideas for next week’s Deal of the Day, and then baking more rustic cherry tarts—because they’d been a huge hit yesterday—along with her signature lemon bars, some basics the bakery carried every day that included three kinds of cookies, some brownies, and blueberry muffins. And all day, her coworkers came up to her, hugged her, asked her questions about the retreat, told her how proud they were.
Regan had never felt such confidence or pride.
When two o’clock rolled around and she knew she needed to punch out, Billy stuck his head in the break room. “Hey, can you come down to the basement before you go? I want to check something with you quick.”
“Sure. Lemme just change my shoes.”
Billy gave a nod and disappeared, and Regan shook her head with a grin. Two lockers down, Jo, the cake decorator, shook her head, too.
“He loves to run things by you,” she said, not unkindly. Jo had been with Billy since he opened the bakery more than twenty years ago, and she knew him better than pretty much anybody.
“He really doesn’t need to,” Regan said. “I rarely disagree with him.”
“He trusts you. It’s his way of showing you that.” Jo slammed her locker shut and turned a gentle smile toward Regan. “You’re like a daughter to him, you know.” Then she squeezed Regan’s shoulder as she passed her and headed out the break room door.
Regan cleared her throat of the unexpected lump that parked itself there. Alone in the break room, she took a second to gather herself. What a day, right?
Clean shoes on, white apron tossed into the laundry bag in the corner, she slung her backpack over her shoulder and headed for the basement, wondering if she should celebrate by ordering some Thai food for dinner.
The basement served many purposes. It was used for the storage of dry goods, it held the walk-in freezer, and it contained Jo’s cake-decorating station. Regan reached the bottom of the stairs, and before she could register that there were more people down there, she was hit with an enormous cheer that startled her, making her take a step back, her heart pounding.
The entire bakery was there. Everybody, if Regan’s eyes were correct. And then Billy was next to her, his arm around her shoulders. When she looked up at him in question, he bent down to her ear and said, “I put the Closed sign up for few minutes. This is more important.”
By the time Regan made it home that day, she was a combination of so many things, she could hardly keep her thoughts organized. She was proud. Beyond-belief proud. She was happy, that was a given. Who wouldn’t be? She was thrilled, because this was going to be incredible. She also felt more loved than she’d felt in a very long time, thanks to Billy and her coworkers. Billy had told her to take all the time she needed, that he’d find a way to make do until she returned.
She was pretty sure her feet never touched concrete on her way home, her arrival much later than normal. Artie was waiting at the door, meowing his disapproval of this new return time.
“I know, I know,” she said, bending to scoop him up and lavish him with kisses of apology. “I’m very sorry, but it was a crazy day.”
“Don’t let him fool you.” Brian’s voice came from the kitchen. He entered the living room with a grin and a bottle of champagne. “This starving cat thing is an act. He ate dinner at his usual time. And you, my friend, are late.” He was tall and handsome, a husky guy with a neat brown beard and the greenest, kindest eyes Regan had ever seen. She always told him that if she was in the hospital and he showed up with those eyes, she’d relax in a heartbeat. “But Kiki told me about the retreat, and I am so proud of you.” He bent to kiss her cheek, then held up the bottle. “Celebration?”
“Why not?” Regan put her stuff down and slid off her jacket.
“Kiki ran to pick up Thai for dinner,” Brian tossed over his shoulder as he went back to the kitchen for glasses, and Regan was reminded how much she adored her roommates.
“I’m gonna take a quick shower and call my parents, okay?” she called out, headed to her tiny bedroom. Once there, she closed the door and leaned back against it, still unable to fully absorb what was happening. She pulled out her phone and FaceTimed her mother, then propped the phone on her dresser so she had both hands free to give attention to Artie.
“Hi, honey,” her mom said into the screen. She was clearly making dinner, her phone propped in the kitchen while she looked to be sautéing something.
“Hi, Mom. I have news.”
She barely finished telling her mother about the retreat before the entire household was trying to cram their faces into the shot. Both of her parents, her little brother, her little sister, and her grandfather were all trying to talk at the same time, and Regan could see at least a sliver of each person’s face. By the time Kiki knocked at her door to tell her the food was ready, Regan was laughing so hard, her sides hurt.
“All right, I’ve gotta go eat dinner. I’ll tell you more when I find out more.”
“We are so proud of you, honey,” her father said, and she could see that his eyes were wet.
“Oh, Dad, don’t cry. Okay? You’re gonna make Mom all uncomfortable again.” Still laughing, she said her goodbyes and hung up.
Artie was still hanging around, waiting for more attention, and she obliged him, putting her nose right up to his face so he could boop her with his. Then she sighed happily.
“What a day, huh, buddy?”
* * *
Much as Ava was dreading talking to her boss, she knew she had to do it. She preferred to wait until the end of her shift, but that wouldn’t be until after midnight, and Goldie was usually gone by then.
Ava sighed quietly as she hung her purse and jacket in her locker and donned her white chef’s coat with the Pomp logo embroidered on the left breast in black and gold thread. It wasn’t that Goldie Schaefer was bad at her job. She wasn’t. She was actually a pretty excellent restaurant manager, and that wasn’t an easy achievement at a five-star restaurant in New York City like Pomp. It was that Goldie was simply a miserable person in general. Nothing made her happy. She complained a lot . And making her employees feel less-than was something she seemed to shoot for on a daily basis. Kind of an “if I can’t feel good, then nobody should” type of attitude. Ava had become pretty good at flying under the radar and avoiding any need for Goldie to seek her out, but today could change all that.
“Goldie? Hey.” She rapped on the door frame of Goldie’s open office door. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”
“That’s about all I’ve got,” Goldie said, not looking up from her phone. “Come.”
Ava entered the office and stood with her hands clasped behind her back. She didn’t take a seat because she’d done that once without being invited to, and she’d been called out on it.
Seconds ticked by and Goldie finally set her phone down. Her dark blond hair was pulled back in a neat though severe bun, and she was dressed in her usual black suit with a skirt and pumps, Ava knew even though she couldn’t see below her waist, because Goldie wore the exact same thing every day. Ava imagined her closet at home, filled with black blazers and skirts, all lined up on hangers, the exact same amount of space between each one, probably measured precisely with a ruler, several pairs of black pumps in matching cubbies. But the suits gave Goldie the air of a person in charge, and she wore that well. Ava couldn’t argue it.
“What’s up, Prescott?” Goldie didn’t call anybody by their first name. Ava always suspected it was her way of dehumanizing her employees so it was easier to be an asshole to them.
“Well,” Ava said, tightening her hands behind her back in hopes of calming her nerves, “I have some good news.”
“Oh, God, tell me you’re not pregnant.”
The words caught her off guard, and she blinked a couple times before saying, “Um, no. Nope. Not pregnant.”
“That’s a relief. I was afraid you were going to need an extended leave.”
Shit.
“Well…” Ava cleared her throat. Goddamn it, she hated the way this woman made her feel. Pull it together, Ava! You’re a confident professional. Be one. “I’ve been accepted into the Bennett-Schmidt retreat.” At Goldie’s perplexed expression, Ava reminded herself that if somebody wasn’t in the pastry business, they might not know of the retreat, so she explained, finishing with, “It’s a pretty big deal. Thousands of people apply, and only six are chosen. To learn new techniques from somebody as accomplished as Liza Bennett-Schmidt is…it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” She almost said more but knew she’d be gushing at that point, so she had to make a conscious effort to stop talking right there, to let the words sit and to wait for Goldie’s response. And to not smile too much because Goldie certainly wasn’t.
It took a moment, and then Goldie took in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well,” she said, then took another moment before she went on. “Eight weeks is a very long time. I’ll need to figure out who takes your place. Probably Jen. I mean, who else knows the menu, right?”
Jen was Ava’s pastry sous chef, and she was very capable. “Jen could definitely do it.”
“You can get her trained on the big stuff, right?” Goldie tapped her finger against her lips, demonstrating how she was thinking. “She’ll need help, which means I’ll probably have to hire a temporary sous chef for her…” Goldie seemed to be thinking out loud rather than conversing with Ava, but she continued to stand there, not yet dismissed. “When will you need to leave?” They talked dates, Goldie doing more lip tapping, then she picked up her phone and scrolled what Ava assumed was her calendar. “Jesus, right into summer.” She murmured that line, though not quietly enough that Ava didn’t hear it, and sighed again, loudly.
Ava swallowed to avoid clearing her throat. And waited. And waited some more.
“Okay,” Goldie finally said. “Got it.”
Ava stood there and gave a nod, then wasn’t sure what to do next. “Great. Okay. Thanks.” She turned to leave, but a thought occurred to her then and she turned back, lifting her finger as she asked, “I…will still have a job afterward, won’t I?”
Goldie lifted one shoulder in the most nonchalant of shrugs. “I guess we’ll have to see.”
“Oh.” Ava swallowed again. “Okay then. Thanks.” She left the office, and her blood began to boil, for so many reasons, but mostly for thanking Goldie after she basically told her she might not have a job to come home to. She got to her station and began doing her setup for the evening. One of the dessert specials was a chocolate soufflé. She’d made the batter ahead of time but now needed to work on the elements of presentation. It would be a good way to take her mind off what had just happened.
Jen normally arrived about an hour after Ava, mostly because Ava always showed up early. She liked getting a jump on things.
“Hey,” Jen said when she’d sidled up next to Ava. “What needs to be done?”
Ava said hello and slid the list she’d made for Jen across the counter to her. She liked Jen. She was competent and did as she was asked without complaint. Once she had the cherry topping for the New York cheesecake warming in a pot, she turned her blue eyes to Ava. “What’s new with you? You’re quiet. Everything okay?”
Ava met her gaze. Jen was pretty in a plain sort of way. She had straight brown hair that she always wore in a ponytail. Her blue eyes were bright and free of makeup, and she had great skin. She was prone to smiling for no reason. Often, Ava would glance over at her while she was whipping cream or slicing fruit, and she’d have this soft smile on her face. She was easy to be around, and Ava liked her. “I got accepted into the Bennett-Schmidt retreat,” she blurted, no introduction or preamble. Just a blurt.
And Jen, God bless her, her eyes went wide, and her mouth formed the shape of an O, and she clapped her hands together once, then threw her arms around Ava. “Oh my God! No way! That’s so hard to get into. Ava! That’s incredible!” She did nothing to keep her voice down or her excitement contained, and, for a brief moment, Ava almost shushed her, almost told her to keep it down. But she didn’t. And now the chefs were looking, and the servers were watching, and a couple came up and wanted to know what the cheering was for and finally…finally…Ava felt proud. And she knew her coworkers were proud of her. It was the reaction she’d hoped to get from Goldie—which was stupid of her. But Jen had taken care of it, and soon Darren, the head chef, was popping a bottle of champagne he’d gotten from Courtney at the bar, and the whole kitchen and waitstaff lifted little plastic cups in her honor.
“What is going on here?” Goldie asked when she walked in on the toast.
Before she could express her disapproval, Darren shoved a plastic cup into her hands and said, “Our Ava has accomplished something huge. Toast her.” And he gave her a look that Ava had seen him use on her before. It basically said just shut up and smile and be nice for five minutes. She suspected they were sleeping together, as Darren was the only member of the entire kitchen staff who didn’t cower when she walked in. He was also the only one who immediately smiled at Goldie. It was kind of cute, even if it was her.
The celebration didn’t last long, as they all had work to do, but Ava appreciated it so much. A bit of congratulations had been all she’d wanted from Goldie, but also, she should’ve known better. She was shaking her head at herself when Jen spoke up.
“I am so envious of you,” she said as she mixed the batter for the cheesecake the cherries would be drizzled over. “Liza Bennett-Schmidt is, like, the idol of every pastry chef I know. She’s a legend.”
“Right?” Ava said, putting sugar into a pan to make a caramel sauce to go with the soufflés. “I’m ridiculously excited about it. And so, so nervous.”
Jen gave a soft laugh. “Really?”
Ava stopped to look at her. “Of course. Why?”
“I mean, you’re just always so stoic and put together. It’s hard to know if you’re excited or nervous or whatever.”
Ava nodded and forced herself to smile. Jen wasn’t wrong. She’d been raised to be calm, always. Getting boisterous about things didn’t do any good, nor was it a good look, her father had always said. Calm, cool, collected. That’s what he’d taught her. He was gone now, had been gone for a couple years at this point, and she knew her mother was doing her best to undo some of those habits he’d instilled in her, loosen her up, but they were hard to break, and both she and her mother knew it.
Jen came up closer to her and lowered her voice. “How did Goldie take it?”
Ava lifted a shoulder. “Fine, I guess. She was mostly annoyed.” She met Jen’s gaze. “She’s gonna move you up, I think, have you cover my stuff and hire you a sous chef.” She nibbled on the inside of her cheek before adding, “And it might end up permanent for you, I don’t know.”
Jen furrowed her light brow, and she shook her head. “Nah. That would be stupid of her.” She kept shaking her head as she spoke. “Like, really stupid. She wouldn’t fire you after you went to a famous, high-end retreat that’s literally going to make you even better at what you already kick ass doing.”
“I’m sorry, have you met Goldie?” Ava asked the question with a sly grin, but she was also serious. Goldie didn’t take kindly to being inconvenienced, famous pastry retreat or not. There was a very good chance Ava would return after eight weeks and be unemployed.