Chapter 8
Wednesday, December 5
Thankfully, Oliver was working from home on Wednesday, which gave Hazel and me the opportunity to settle into our new cubicle without running into my ex. After a thankfully uneventful day at the office, I realized as I drove home that I couldn’t wait to get to Candy Cakes and meet Marco so I could find out more about him and Dessert Dudes.
After making a quick stop at the apartment to feed Dazey—who continued her vanishing act—I changed into a pair of jeans and a black shirt. As I headed to the front door and pulled on my boots, my phone rang.
“Darling,” Mom said immediately, her voice full of worry. “I heard the terrible news. How are you?”
“What news?”
“About the engagement .”
“Oh.” My heart contracted, and I forced my voice into neutral. “It’s all right. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine .” Mom clicked her tongue. “Ursula came over to tell us, and she’s happy for Oliver, naturally, but we feel bad for you…and what could’ve been. She was so apologetic.”
“Tell her she doesn’t need to be.”
“All right.” Mom paused for a moment and then cautiously added, “Tell me honestly, Callie, how are you taking this? Maybe it’s best you come home and be with your family while all this is happening.”
“I’m okay ,” I insisted. “Really, Mom. I mean, sure, the engagement was a surprise…”
We chatted for a few minutes, but I didn’t want to end up on a long call involving me consoling her about my ex-boyfriend’s engagement, while trying to convince her that I didn’t need to come home to hide from the world.
“I have to go, Mom,” I said as I looked at the time. “I’m going out to meet someone.”
“Oh? A new friend?”
“Kind of,” I said breezily. “I’ve offered to help a company with their accounts so I’m going to have a chat with the owner.”
Mom sighed. “Careful you don’t turn into your sister, working so much.”
“I can think of worse things,” I replied with a chuckle. “Love you. Say hi to Dad.”
After heading out, I decided to walk, and ten minutes later I arrived at the coffee shop. Candy Cakes was new to me, although I’d passed by it a few times. It had an eclectic assortment of old wooden tables and mismatched chairs, a gleaming stainless-steel counter, and, if the online reviews were true, some of the best desserts in town.
The windows were decorated with fake snow, gold curtain lights, and a few Warmest Holiday Wishes banners. When I pushed open the glass-and-metal door, I was immediately greeted by the rich aromas of coffee, cinnamon, and a touch of caramel, all of which made my stomach rumble.
As I stood in line, I glanced at the chalkboard menu and saw chestnut cheesecake listed as the daily special. I couldn’t resist and ordered a slice along with a decaf latte. Food and drink in hand, I settled at a table near the back and glanced around. The crowd was young and hip, the energy in the room high from all the chatter, and I made a mental note to bring Anita here.
I listened to the ambient music and sipped my drink, thinking that perhaps it was time to try to focus less on what I’d lost since the breakup with Oliver and more on what I’d gained. I could do what I wanted, when I wanted, and with whomever I chose. As I turned the thought around in my mind a few times, I welcomed the positive change of perspective.
Marco walked in the door, pulling me out of my thoughts, and his face lit up when he saw me. “I’m so glad you came.” He took off his khaki jacket and olive scarf, which he draped over the back of the chair opposite mine. “Thanks again for meeting me.”
“My pleasure,” I said, surprised by how genuinely good it felt to be here with Marco, even though I’d only seen him yesterday.
He indicated over his shoulder. “I’ll grab a coffee. Can I get you anything?” When I shook my head, he said, “Back in a minute.”
As I watched him walk away, my eyes swept across his long-sleeved black sweater and over his broad back, my gaze making my skin flush. When Marco reached the counter, he glanced over his shoulder and smiled at me, his gaze lingering a moment.
I looked away and popped another forkful of cheesecake in my mouth, almost groaning as the smooth, velvety texture hit my tongue. By the time he returned with a coffee, there were only a few graham cracker crumbs left on my plate.
“Was that the chestnut cheesecake?” Marco asked.
I nodded and used my Happy Holidays paper napkin to wipe my mouth. “One of the best I’ve ever had. No, that’s not true. Make it the best.”
“You really think so?”
“No contest. I want more to take home.”
Marco chuckled. “I’ll be sure to tell my mom. She gave me the recipe.”
“She did? Wait, you cooked up the dessert of my chestnut-filled dreams?”
“Yeah.” He beamed harder now. “Dessert Dudes makes almost everything for Candy Cakes. They were one of our first customers.”
“Incredible. What else do you recommend here?”
“The dirty devil chocolate mousse,” Marco answered without hesitation. “Imagine three layers—dark, milk, and white—with a smidgen of tart raspberry jelly between each one and a thin sponge base.”
“Sounds incredible.”
“I think so, but then again, I may be slightly biased. I take it you’re a chocolate fan, too?”
“My gosh, yes,” I said, my apparent eagerness making him laugh. “I’m half Swiss. It’s in my veins. Whenever Dad went over to visit family, he’d come back with pounds of the stuff. Ragusa, the one with the hazelnuts, is my favorite. It’s delicious.”
“I probably ate my weight of Ragusa while I was there.” Marco chuckled again. “The Swiss definitely know how to make the best chocolate, that’s for sure.”
The sound of his laughter and the softness in his eyes made my belly do a few more of those funky loop-the-loops. We’d only met on three occasions, but each time there’d been an ease about his presence. He was uncomplicated, unpretentious, and down-to-earth. Delightfully chipper , my mom would’ve added, like he always saw the bright side of everything.
As he looked at me with those intense eyes, I took a mouthful of latte before forcing myself to get down to the reason we’d met this evening. “Can you tell me more about the company? Is it yours?”
“I run it with my buddy, Vince. We met in culinary school years back.”
“Did he work with you in Interlaken?”
Marco shook his head. “We were on a cruise ship together for a while, but he returned to Fallbrook when I got a job in Lyon, in France. I moved to Interlaken afterward, and when the pandemic hit and things slowed down, I headed back to Yarmouth, where I grew up.”
“In Maine?”
“Yes, close to Portland. I’m surprised you’ve heard of our small town.”
“I only became aware of it recently,” I said quickly. “I haven’t made it to that part of the East Coast yet.”
“It’s cool,” Marco said. “Providing rugged and windswept is your thing, of course, and the ocean views are incredible.” He gave a wistful smile. “Anyway, by the time I got back, Vince had started exploring the idea of opening a catering company. A while later, during a weekend filled with vast amounts of beer and dreams, we came up with Dessert Dudes.”
“So…” I paused, not wanting to pry until I reminded myself he’d agreed to meet me because he needed my help. “From what you said at Central Kitchen, things are going well, but you’re struggling to keep up with the bookkeeping.”
“Correct,” Marco said. “I don’t want to complain about all the orders coming in, but we never seem to get any of the paperwork done, other than issuing invoices and rushing to pay suppliers.”
“Is it just the two of you?” I asked, my eyes flitting to his left hand. No ring. Why did that make me feel so relieved?
“Yes, it’s Vince’s and my full-time gig,” Marco said. “We rent space from Walter and Nell at Central Kitchen for the time being. At some point, we’re hoping to expand, and hire more staff, but cashflow always seems too restricted.”
“Who does your bookkeeping now?”
“Vince took a course a while back,” he said. “It seemed logical for him to handle everything financial, but he’s barely had time, plus we’re chefs, not accountants.” He took a beat. “You could say we bit off more than we can chew.”
“Ah, don’t worry, there’s got to be a butter way.” When Marco almost choked on his coffee, I added, “I can’t help it. I love puns.”
He grinned softly. “I noticed, and me, too. The sillier, the better. ‘Easy-peasy lemon-squeezy’ might be my new favorite.”
I ignored the renewed heat shooting to my cheeks and quickly asked, “Has any of this year’s paperwork been done? What financial software do you use? Are you happy with your systems?”
“Our systems are highly sophisticated.” He couldn’t keep a straight face long enough for me to believe him, and when he shared the name of the online accounting software they’d half-heartedly used, I told him I knew it inside and out.
“That’s amazing,” Marco said. “All of our papers and receipts have been randomly stuffed into a few boxes, so it’s a bit of a mess. Our financial year ended in May. We’re late filing our corporate tax return.”
I grimaced. “That means penalties.”
Marco rubbed a hand over his face. “Crap. We’re doomed.”
“No, you’re not.” The prospect of a box or two of messy paperwork didn’t daunt me in the least, quite the opposite. It would give me something to do other than finish the Titanic . “Like Anita mentioned, I helped small companies in Virginia when I worked for an accounting firm, and most of them had the same problem Dessert Dudes does. Their admin was in disarray because they were focusing on growing their business.”
“Are you saying we’re not the only dinosaurs?”
“It’s more common than you think. Anyway, I love getting my hands on a set of accounts that are in a bit of a state. It’s like solving an elaborate puzzle.”
“You enjoy puzzles?”
I nodded. “Jigsaw puzzles are my thing, particularly the 3D ones.” I stopped and looked at him, embarrassed. “That probably makes me sound like a dinosaur.”
“I think it’s cool,” Marco said. “I’ve done a few of those thousand-piece ones in my time, and I was an avid LEGO fan when I was a kid. I built a few sets with my nephews during the pandemic. I’ve never seen a 3D jigsaw puzzle before though.”
“They’re quite challenging,” I replied. “My last one was Neuschwanstein, a castle in—”
“Germany,” Marco said excitedly. “I went there one weekend when I lived in Europe, and it was incredible. I’ve always said I’d go back in a nanosecond.”
“I’d love to visit,” I said, and when I realized Marco might think I meant we should go together, I swiftly added, “ Sometime . You know, because a jigsaw puzzle can’t do it justice.”
“Are you working on another one?” Marco asked.
“The Titanic . It’s almost finished, so I’ve got my eye on Winterfell next. Maybe I’ll give it to myself for Christmas.”
“Winterfell?” Marco shook his head. “Where’s that?”
“From Game of Thrones .”
“I haven’t watched it.”
I let my mouth drop. “Not a single episode?”
He shook his head again. “Will you judge me if I admit I haven’t even seen the trailer?”
“No. I’m jealous.”
“Why? Was it that bad?”
“ No .” I waved my hands around. “I’m envious because you not only get to discover the entire series, characters, and epic storylines, but you can also binge all eight seasons in one go.”
Marco grinned. “Sounds like I should start tomorrow, and we can compare notes.”
“I’d love to. I’m a huge fan,” I said, remembering all the times I’d watched an episode after Oliver had gone to bed because he maintained once you’d seen one Thrones battle, you’d seen them all. My ex enjoyed slasher movies instead, which I abhorred. I’d never thought about how incompatible our tastes in film and TV were until now, or maybe I’d pretended it didn’t matter that we’d mostly ended up watching separate things over the years.
I shook my head. “So…back to cleaning up your finances.”
Marco tapped a couple of fingers on his chin. “I have a feeling it’ll take longer than me watching all of Thrones . I undersold it when I said it was a bit of a mess. It’s over eighteen months’ worth of chaos. Are you sure you have time with the holidays coming up?”
“I’m staying in town for Christmas, and I’m happy to help.” It was true, but my need to keep busy wasn’t the only reason for my offer. I wanted to see Marco again. His energy made me want to be less morose, somehow. “As I said, I love a challenge,” I added.
“This all sounds fantastic, Callie.” Marco leaned back in his chair. “I can’t wait to tell Vince we’re going to get the bookkeeping sorted out by an expert. I bet he’ll be so relieved.”
“Great. Just in case, if you or he think it’s bizarre giving a stranger access to your company payroll, we can find a workaround.”
“You and I aren’t strangers,” Marco said. “Anyone in Fallbrook who knows Basler Brunsli, Spitzbuben, and Mail?nderli cookies is a friend, and besides, Vince and I aren’t taking salaries. Only nominal and equal amounts every month as an advance on dividends. We’re trying to reinvest as much of the profits into the company as possible.”
“That’s wise. Look, why don’t I send you references from two of the companies I’ve worked with so you can contact them?”
“I appreciate this, I really do,” Marco said. “I’m embarrassed we’re in such a bind, but I’m so glad Anita mentioned you might be able to help yesterday.”
“I’ll admit I was a bit annoyed with her impulsiveness,” I said. “Although I can’t say I was surprised, considering she’s made it her new mission in life to level up my spontaneity.”
“Oh?” Marco laughed at my deliberately sullen expression. “How’s she attempting that?”
“Do you really want to know? Because this is going to sound silly…”
“Remember my donut hat and rolling pin apron? I live for silly.”
I grinned as I gave him the lowdown on Anita’s Advent calendar challenge, his smile widening as I concluded my description with, “See? My meddlesome sister’s up to no good. Here, let me show you a picture.”
“What an amazing way to revive an old family tradition,” Marco said as I showed him a photo of the Advent calendar, which I’d taken on Saturday when the package “tree” was still complete. “Honestly, it’s genius.”
“I’ll admit she outdid herself with the treat today,” I said. “She gave me a gorgeous custom-made snow globe. A replica of an epic snow day we had when we were kids and went sledding. She even gave the figurine that’s supposed to be me my wavy hair.”
“That’s fantastic,” Marco said. “If that’s anything to go by, I bet you two will have a total blast with the tasks she’s planned.”
“That’s the problem. She left for Orlando this morning for work and will be there for almost three weeks.”
“Ah, so that’s what she was hinting at during the cookie session when she said something about assisting you with calendar tasks,” he said.
“She’s always saying stuff without thinking,” I replied quickly. “Like offering me to sort through your bookkeeping.”
“Well, I’d be lying if I said I’m sorry about that,” Marco replied.
When he looked at me, opened his mouth, and closed it again, I asked, “What is it?”
“Now this is silly. But…I could be your wingman with your tasks.”
“Huh?” I asked, my eyebrows shooting up. “Why would you do that?”
“Why not?” Marco said. “It sounds like fun, something I could do with more of, considering the amount of work stress I’ve been under lately.”
“You mean my financial services in exchange for you helping me with a calendar task every other day?”
“Plus desserts on demand,” Marco said. “What do you think? You can message me as soon as you find out what the task is and tell me where to meet.”
“I have no clue what Anita has cooked up. It could be anything. Are you sure you have time for this?”
“I’ll make time,” Marco said. “Truth is, I love surprises. In fact, I can hardly wait to find out what your next assignment will be.”
As I imagined completing the Advent calendar tasks with Marco, casually hanging out as we were now at Candy Cakes, a feeling of excitement zapped through my body. It would be fun having a partner. Plus, it would help get Anita off my back about getting out there , at least until the Christmas countdown was over, at which point she wouldn’t be allowed to bring up my dating life anymore.
“I have one more very important question,” I said with a smile. “Will you give me more chestnut cheesecake?”
“As much as you want,” Marco replied.
Before I could stop myself, I held out my right hand and said, “Welcome to the Advent calendar challenge, Eggnog Man.”