Challah-day Fling (Matzo Ballers Hanukkah Romance #6)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

“Jay, you promised none of us would have to work the event this year.” Libby Sugarman put her phone on speaker and loaded her pastry bag with Italian meringue buttercream.

“Lib, I swear. I wouldn’t ask under any other circumstances—“

“But Talia already said no?” Jay’s sister, the Jewish Grandma caterer, was his usual go-to person for outrageous favors.

Jay’s silence answered her question.

“Uh-huh. That’s what I thought.” She went down on one knee to get a better piping angle, exerting even pressure to make the buttercream flow smoothly onto the cake in a precise yet spontaneous-looking pattern. “How’s your new event coordinator working out?”

“He’s a lot different than Rebecca.” Jay cleared his throat. “Honestly, I feel like I need to give him lessons in organization.”

“That is a scary thought, my friend.” Jay had been flying by the seat of his pants since their Year Course days.

Of the eight friends in their tight circle who had bonded in Israel while working on a kibbutz, Jay was the least likely to lock down details until absolutely necessary—at least until he’d met Rebecca, his hyper-organized, former event coordinator, fallen madly in love, and changed his ways.

Lately, her Year Course pals were dropping like flies with their wings shot off by Cupid’s arrows.

God forbid. Libby liked her wings firmly attached.

“C’mon, everyone raved about how much fun they had last year, remember?” Jay’s cajoling didn’t fool her.

“As I remember, you were the fun one during that event. Are you going to help me again?”

More silence.

“Jaybird! Are you serious? You can’t ask me to lead a cookie decorating activity at the last minute, and expect me to say, ‘Sure, I’ll whip hundreds of cut-out cookies out of my ass and work instead of party with my best friends, no problem.’”

“You just did.” She could hear the smirk in his voice. “We both know you could run a cookie decorating activity in your sleep, and I can’t help you because Reggie is still learning the ropes. Please, Lib? I had this spot covered, but they bailed.”

“Even if I wanted to say yes—which I don’t—I can’t. I’m going to be in Palm Beach until the Baller. I won’t have time to bake.”

“All week?” he asked, sounding aghast.

“Yes, the Levines hired me to make donuts for their annual Hanukkah party.”

“Nice.” Jay snorted. “Only you would get hired to make donuts for a Hanukkah party in Palm Beach in December. I want your life.”

“What can I say? I’m in demand.” She didn’t say yes to every outlandish request, but when the first-ever showing of her favorite artist’s work coincided with an all-expenses-paid gig on the beach at the tail end of Manhattan’s grueling holiday wedding season? Hell yes.

Plus, the Levines were paying her a fortune to make the trip.

While Jay and his Katz Event Concepts crew were in hardcore prep mode for the Matzo Baller Hanukkah harbor cruise for the Who’s Who of New York Jews, she’d be attending an exhibit opening and then frying donuts for Palm Beach’s wealthiest Jewish snowbirds.

Then she’d spend the rest of the week admiring M.

Waterman’s paintings, lovely beach sunsets, and the inside of her eyelids as she got eight hours of sleep each night.

Hopefully, she’d come home refreshed and ready to spend another year catering to the ever-more esoteric demands of her elite clients.

“I’m leaving for the airport as soon as I deliver this cake. ”

“You’d better make it back in time for the Baller. There have been tons of flight delays lately. Are you coming back Thursday or Friday?”

“Early Friday morning.” And he’d better not suggest she step off the plane and start baking.

“You could still do the class. Talia can make the cookies.” Panic crept into his voice.

“You said that last year, and look what happened.” Talia’s spectacular, all-butter cut-outs had somehow gotten smashed before they made it onto the boat.

“That wasn’t my fault! And I fixed the problem, didn’t I?” She tuned out his rehash of the cookie crisis to focus on a tricky section of the wedding cake.

Deceptively simple on the outside—flawlessly smooth lavender buttercream accented with delicate ivory cornelli lace—the cake was comprised of countless paper-thin layers of cake sandwiched with four different flavors of buttercream and misted with Earl Grey simple syrup.

It was a play on the Austrian Dobos Torte, a nod to the bride’s heritage, while the tea and London Fog vibes carried the torch for the groom’s English upbringing.

She finished the last squiggle and lifted her bag, just as Jay said, “I promise I’ll get you an assistant. Maybe Jonah could help.”

“No thanks—he was a hot mess last year.” Their accountant pal had stolen a few too many drinks while entertaining the guests with impromptu comedy skits and had accidentally face-planted into the cleavage of Hollywood’s It Girl. They were still roasting him for it.

“Fine—someone else, then. Help me, Libby-Wan. You’re my only hope.”

She heaved a dramatic sigh, wavering. If Jay was desperate enough to beg, then she couldn’t say no.

Truthfully, she could run a decorating activity in her sleep.

“Get the cookies from wherever you got them last year, and schedule the event early in the cruise,” she relented. “I want to have fun this year.”

“You are a goddess, Libby. A truly benevolent deity. Thank you—I’m so grateful. To pay you back, I’m going to match you with the most eligible bachelor on the Matzo Baller.”

“Eww—don’t you dare.” Ever since Jay had bought the Menorah Matchmaker business from his girlfriend Rebecca’s grandma, he’d been relentless. “No matches.”

“Are you sure? There’s a new rabbi at my temple—”

“A rabbi is the last thing I need.” He’d probably expect her to attend Shabbat services when she barely had time for Tinder hook-ups. Her demanding work schedule made it nearly impossible to prioritize a relationship.

Her phone signaled another call, and she checked the screen. It was Klara. “Gotta go—the bride’s calling. Don’t forget to order the cookies, Jaybird. And do not set me up with anyone on the Baller!”

She ended the call and took a quick breath before she said, “Hi, Klara, it’s Libby. How are you holding up?”

“Hello, Libby. Actually, it’s Alfie.” The nickname, short for Alfred, wasn’t much of an improvement, but the handsome CEO pulled it off.

“Klara is having a bit of a meltdown because she doesn’t want the cake to look boring.

Those purple roses are going to be absolutely everywhere tomorrow, and she’s afraid the cake won’t pop, you know?

Is it too late to go with the other design? ”

“The art deco pulled sugar flowers?” She spoke calmly and then drew in a slow, deep breath through her nose.

Both the bride and groom had soundly rejected her original suggestion of sugar flowers.

They’d wanted a fortune in deep purple heirloom roses instead, and it was fine, really.

It was their big day. For what they were paying her, they got whatever they wanted—but right now was an incredibly inconvenient time to realize their cake was a technically-flawless snooze.

“Yes! You showed us a picture of a cake with really unique dark purple sugar flowers last year, and Klara never forgot it. We want those on the cake instead. The same color as the roses, but—”

“Give me just a second to find the picture, please.” She opened her flight app to search for a later flight to Palm Beach.

Nooooooo. There wasn’t a direct flight that would get her there in time for the opening night of the Waterman exhibit.

The artist probably wouldn’t be there, but a girl could dream.

Waterman’s use of color was unlike anything she’d ever seen.

She’d hoped to tell him what his work meant to her and maybe even show him the cakes his work had inspired.

His gorgeous Iris painting had given her the idea for Klara and Alfie’s original sugar flower design, although Waterman’s painting had been softer, more lush—

Wait.

Inspiration teased her mind’s eye, blending the two designs into one.

If she could talk Alfie and Klara into a hybrid cake, she’d save time making flowers, give herself some camouflage for the attachment sites of the sugar flowers, and—maybe—make her original flight tomorrow.

She texted both Alfie and Klara the drawing of her original cake design, just in case Alfie was risking his future happiness by changing the cake design behind his fiancée’s back, instead of acting on her wishes. “This one?”

“Yes! That’s it exactly.”

A thumbs-up from Klara appeared on the text.

Of course, Libby would do everything in her power to create the cake that would make them happiest, but she couldn’t dismiss her vision of the hybrid cake, now that it had bloomed in her imagination.

She took a deep breath. “Alfie, that sugar flower cake is lovely, but I just had an idea that might be even more stunning. Do you think Klara would be willing to consider a fresh idea?”

He made a pained sound. “It’s hard to say what will thrill her or send her ‘round the bend at this point.”

If she could get them excited about the new cake, she’d have a happy couple, an exciting new customizable cake design for her portfolio, and get to Palm Beach in time for the gallery opening.

She cleared her throat. “Changing designs the day before the wedding is a risk, but you hired me because I’m an artist. There’s nothing wrong with the sugar flowers; it’s one of my most popular designs.

Lots of couples choose it.” She paused, letting the implication sink in.

“But I just had a stunning idea that will give you a unique cake that hasn’t been seen in New York—or anywhere.

I’d like to blend the two cake designs into an original, just for you. Are you open to hearing more?”

She held her breath, waiting for his answer.