The Winner Bakes It All

Chapter 1

Elodie hit the call button on her phone with her little finger so that it didn’t get sticky. Her hands had acquired a thin layer of icing sugar when she delivered her last cake. She must have been too enthusiastic when she did the dusting over the top of it.

Her mum’s voice came in through her earbuds.

‘Hi, Mum. You called?’

‘Oh yes, darling. I just wanted to remind you that you’re having dinner with us on Friday night.’

Elodie had snuck out without her morning coffee to avoid these conversations with her mother, so now she called Elodie to arrange things instead.

‘I remember.’ She tucked the phone under her chin and fished a wet wipe out of the glove compartment. ‘I’ll be there.’ She cleaned her hands on it.

‘Please wear something nice. And maybe do your hair properly, darling. We will have a guest.’

Elodie paused, midway through wiping her fingers. ‘What sort of guest?’

‘Oh, a young man from your father’s work.’ The casual tone was so forced, it practically squeaked. ‘Nothing sinister.’

Nothing sinister. Hah. Also ‘your father’s work’ was a dead giveaway. Norma had met Elodie’s father while working in the HR department of a law firm where he was a trainee. She’d given up work when her first child, Elodie’s brother Travis, was born and had taken to the role of yummy mummy and later society hostess like a duck to water. In recent years, she’d started inviting new joiners to come round for dinner at the family home. These dinners were becoming more frequent now. Elodie noticed she was often invited if the young lawyer in question was a single man.

‘Mum,’ she said. ‘Please stop trying to set me up with lawyers.’

‘Dad says he’s very nice.’

‘Dad only goes in twice a week as a consultant. How would he know?’

‘He has his finger on the pulse.’ Her mother made an impatient little tut. ‘Besides, darling, you’re so busy with your little bakery project that you hardly have a chance to meet anyone.’

Elodie narrowed her eyes at ‘little bakery project’. ‘You gave me four years,’ she said, sternly.

‘We gave you until you were twenty-six,’ her mother countered. ‘When I was your age, I was already pregnant with Travis. You are twenty-six in four months. I have no choice but to introduce you to people. It’ll be too late in a couple of years.’

Balling up the wet wipe, Elodie glared at the phone. She had learned long ago not to bother arguing. Sulking still worked though. ‘I don’t want to,’ she said, through clenched teeth. ‘I think I’ll be busy on Friday.’

‘Elodie, don’t be moody,’ said Norma. ‘It’s … unbecoming.’

‘I have to go.’ She jabbed at the phone and cut the call. Then growled at the interior of the car. She pounded her fists on the steering wheel for a few seconds. It didn’t really help. She took a deep breath and centred herself. Keeping a sense of perspective was important. Besides, she had work to do.

On the way back to the shop, she walked past the empty unit on the corner of the arcade. It had been vacant for just over a week now. It looked lonely and sad without the cheery sandwich shop that used to be there. On the other hand, it was empty and available. She had arranged access to a bank loan, which meant that as soon as Warren, the new arcade manager, was ready to lease it out again, she could have it. Then phase two of her plans for the bakery could begin. She would be able to serve tea and cake as well as run the cake-baking business on the side. She could do classes in cake decorating too. She’d made a business plan and everything.

Warren had said he’d call her when he had inspected everything and was ready to put the shop out for lease again. It had been a week, so it was probably a good time to call him and ask how that was going. She pushed open the door to her bakery. The bell above the door tinkled and Marty, her shop assistant and friend, looked up from where he was leaning against the counter, flicking through a magazine.

A frown flickered across Marty’s face. ‘What’s that look for?’ he said. ‘What happened? Did the customer refuse to pay?’

‘Oh. No. Nothing like that. I just spoke to my mum, that’s all.’

Marty rolled his eyes. ‘Oh no. What now?’

‘She wants me to join with one of her little dinners. I think she’s trying to set me up with some guy again.’

Marty gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘I mean, it’s good that someone is looking for a hot man for you, but I am sorry your mum’s the one doing it. Are you going to go to this dinner?’

‘Can’t really avoid it.’ That was the trouble with still living with her parents. The house was big enough that they could avoid each other most of the time, which she did manage to do, but if her mother was determined to keep watch on when Elodie came and went, she absolutely could.

‘She promised she would leave me alone until I was twenty-six,’ said Elodie. ‘I checked, because I know what she’s like and she was clear on that. I’ve still got four months.’

‘But you didn’t write it down, did you?’ said Marty. ‘Schoolgirl error.’

True. She got her order book out, stared at the cake orders, then said, ‘Shall I go and see Warren again about the shop let? There’s still no “to let” sign up.’

Marty shrugged. ‘I suppose. Can’t hurt.’

‘I’ll take him some cakes.’

‘Let me pack that for you. Four cupcakes enough?’ Marty got a cake box out. ‘I saw Warren hanging around the empty shop yesterday,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what that means.’

The arcade was owned by the Heggarty family. Warren had only recently taken over from his dad and now managed the leases on the shops in the arcade. ‘Make it six,’ she said. ‘May as well try to get on his good side.’ Like just about everyone else in the arcade, she had been fond of old Mr Heggarty. Warren wasn’t nearly as mild mannered and friendly.

A few minutes later, she was walking through the old arcade to the manager’s office, which was in a unit at the farthest end from her. The arcade was laid out in a square, with bigger shop units on the outside. Two corridors intersected in the middle dividing it into four. This was where the smaller shops like hers had space.

The floors were tiled in cream and green, the walls were pale Cotswold stone. Elodie looked up at the beams as she walked. The metalwork was ornate and had been recently repainted dark green. If you raised your eyes from the colourful shop fronts, the metalwork and stone were beautiful. Where the corridors met, a clear dome in the roof created a pool of natural light in the middle. Underneath it was a small raised island full of leafy plants, surrounded by white benches. She loved sitting there in the winter, when the sunlight coming through the dome created a bubble of warmth from which to enjoy the Christmas garlands that hung from the beams. Right now, in early summer, it was pleasantly warm there. In a few weeks, when the sun shone in earnest, it would be stiflingly hot.

Going down the opposite arm of the building, she came to the unassuming door to the office. It was just another shop unit that had frosted windows instead of a display and no signage above it. She rang the buzzer. ‘It’s Elodie from the cake shop.’

She was buzzed in. There was no reception, just a secretary’s desk and an office. The office secretary’s eyes lit up when she saw the cake box. She had been old Mr Heggarty’s secretary too. ‘Hello, stranger.’

‘Hello. How’re you?’ Elodie dropped her voice. ‘How’s Mr Heggarty getting on?’

‘Not so well, really,’ the woman said, sadly. ‘He had a fall recently. Only bruised, but it’s knocked his confidence.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll tell Warren you’re here. You sit down.’

Elodie sat down, holding the box on her lap. The secretary reappeared. ‘He says he’s got five minutes now, if you can be quick.’

Warren was at his desk, scowling at some paperwork. ‘Elodie,’ he said, not looking up. ‘What can I do for you?’ His voice was tight, as though he was barely suppressing his annoyance.

‘I brought cupcakes.’ She thrust the cakes onto the table. Cakes usually worked wonders.

‘I don’t eat carbs,’ Warren said.

‘Oh.’

He finally looked up. ‘What can I help you with today?’ A slight emphasis on ‘today’, as though she did this too often.

Elodie reined in the urge to point out that he had said he’d contact her and give her a timeframe for when the empty unit would be up for lease and hadn’t. ‘Just wondering if you have any idea of when you’ll be putting the shop space up for let.’

He gave her a blank look. ‘Which shop space?’

Elodie gave an impatient huff. There was only one. ‘The northeast corner. Used to be Devon’s Sandwiches. Opposite my unit,’ she said with exaggerated patience.

‘Oh,’ he said. Now he looked up, properly. ‘I … ah … I have just signed the lease on that. I’m sorry. You’re too late.’

‘What?’ She glared at him, heat rising in her chest. ‘But I asked about it weeks ago. As soon as Devon said he was shutting down. And I asked you again last week. You knew I was interested. You were supposed to give me first refusal.’

Warren sighed. ‘I don’t think that was ever a formal agreement,’ he said. ‘Besides, if I recall, you were also asking for preferential terms.’

Mr Heggarty usually gave a 10 per cent discount on the rates for one year to existing tenants.

‘Yes, but—’

‘But nothing,’ said Warren. ‘I found a tenant who will pay the full rate.’

‘You didn’t even advertise it!’ Elodie said, her voice too loud in the small office. ‘You didn’t even give me a chance.’

‘If I had, would you have found the extra money?’

She raised her chin, hands curled into fists. ‘Yes,’ she said, defiantly. ‘Of course I would.’

The look he gave her was part condescension, part pity. ‘Well, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Your new neighbours will be moving in as soon as they’ve finished refitting the shop.’

‘You can’t do that.’ To her horror, her voice quavered.

‘That’s business, Elodie. It’s not all cosy and cuddly. These clients will bring in a new demographic of customers. Younger ones, hopefully.’ He picked up his folder again. ‘Please close the door on your way out.’

She stood there, staring at him for a second.

‘Please don’t make me call Hal,’ he said, not bothering to look up. His phone was already in his hand.

Hal was the security guard. He was getting old now and would be no match for Elodie in a tussle, but she would probably comply with whatever he asked because she was afraid of hurting him. This whole situation was humiliating enough without Hal witnessing it. She turned on her heel and marched out.

Once she was back in the thoroughfare, her treacherous eyes started to prickle. How dare he? She pulled out her phone to text Mr Heggarty. He had problems of his own right now though. He probably didn’t need to know about the dramas of running the arcade. Besides, from what Warren said, it sounded like it was a done deal and there was nothing she could do about it.

Swearing under her breath, she put the phone back in her pocket and trudged back to her shop. Phase 2 of her business plan was now out of the running. She needed to make what she had work harder. If things continued the way they were, she might have to close up shop in eight months’ time, when she ran out of savings. Bad enough it meant giving up on her dreams, it also meant that she’d have to admit that she’d failed. Her family would be insufferable.

When she got to her shop, she paused. The empty café unit was open. Men who looked like builders or decorators were carrying things inside. One of them was putting paper over the windows to protect them. It must be a completely done deal if they were doing the decorating already. Her heart sank a little lower. She hadn’t realised that she was still holding onto a tiny bit of hope.

The little bell above the shop door pinged as Marty stuck his head out of the door. ‘What do you reckon it’ll be?’ He moved out and leaned against the door frame. In deference to the fact that he was minding the cake shop, he was wearing a long white apron over his low-slung jeans and skinny fit T-shirt and cardigan. It looked incongruous on him, given the ears full of jewellery and the neck tattoo.

Elodie folded her arms and eyed the men putting up the papers while staunchly ignoring their audience. ‘What are you hoping for?’

‘Another sandwich shop would be nice,’ said Marty. ‘Or a men’s barbers. One that does beards.’

She gave him a sidelong glance. ‘You don’t have facial hair,’ she pointed out. Not that he hadn’t tried. She remembered the ‘beard’ phase all too well. He only ever managed a wispy, thin thing that was too sad.

‘Yes, but lots of nice men do. Nice men who like to look after themselves.’ He sighed and leaned his head against the doorframe.

Elodie shook her head. ‘Let me past, will you.’

Marty stepped out of the doorway so that she could go in.

‘You could do with a nice man too, you know,’ he said.

She didn’t bother answering. She didn’t have time for another man in her life. Between Marty and her brother, she had quite enough of them already.

She washed her hands and grabbed a clean apron. Her shop was tiny. Most of it was taken up by the display counter and the till. There was a small work surface at the back, where she could work if she really needed to, but was mostly used to store boxed-up cakes that were ready to go out. The kitchen was even smaller. There was no window, which was just as well, because every single inch of wall space was taken up with shelving. It was ‘cosy’ in the winter, but hotter than Hades in the summer. This wasn’t what she’d dreamt about when she set up her bakery. She wanted a café, where people could sit and have tea and coffee. Maybe even do some cake decorating workshops to bring the punters in. She could have had that if she’d got the corner space. Dammit.

Pulling up the order sheet on her phone, she noted that she needed to get a batch of pirate-themed cupcakes done by that evening. Marty might be able to do the delivery for that. She drew a breath to ask when he said, ‘Oh. Shit.’

She put her phone away and walked round the counter to the front. ‘What?’

Marty was staring at the shop opposite. More of the paper had gone up over the windows. On it was written ‘New café coming soon’.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Shit.’

Malindu ‘Mal’ Pathirana tapped the hand-drawn floor plan that was spread on the table. ‘This is the best I can do, I think.’

He was sitting in his best friend Jake’s kitchen. They’d pulled out the small kitchen table and folded out the extra leaf to give themselves more space. ‘If you don’t include the counter, the café part is only a third of the space. So it should be okay. Most people will pick up their lunches and leave.’

Jake passed him a mug of coffee and stood over the plan, studying it. ‘And if it doesn’t work out?’

‘It will,’ Mal said with confidence he didn’t feel. ‘Besides, it’s only the second part of the business plan. The main plan should work even without.’

Jake frowned. He was not only Mal’s best friend, but also his business partner now. Mal blew on his coffee. Without Jake, he wouldn’t even have a business. His first side hustle had come from Jake telling him about the customers at his gym complaining that it was really hard to make lunches that didn’t crash them out of ketosis. So Mal, who knew a lot about keto cooking, had done some sample lunches – nothing fancy, a few crustless quiches and a few chicken salads – with carb, protein and fat content labels on them. Surprisingly, the guys had loved it. With Jake’s gym franchise growing, Mal’s Meals had to expand too. He’d needed more space, especially more fridge space. The fact that they’d got a corner spot in the old arcade, which had enough space to have a few tables, was a bonus.

‘I can’t believe how lucky we got with that unit coming up for lease just when we started looking for a place,’ he said. He owed that to Jake too. It was a contact in the gym who had hooked him up with Warren to sort out the deal.

‘You have room for more tables …’ Jake pointed.

Mal shook his head. ‘Wheelchair access.’ That was the whole point. ‘But having the wider access routes means that there’s more room around the counter, even when the café tables are occupied. So people can still come in and pick up their lunch.’

Jake gave him a level stare and nodded solemnly. ‘Okay.’ Jake had put money into Mal’s business to help him expand. The café was the only bit he hadn’t been sold on.

‘Anyway,’ Mal gathered up his papers, ‘everything is going according to plan. We should be able to open in two weeks, as planned. I’ve put posters up in all the gyms about opening day and scattered some money-off vouchers about the place. Hopefully some of the regulars will show up.’

‘They will,’ said Jake. ‘The shop can only hold so many people, so it’ll look nice and busy.’

‘Hope so.’ Mal took another sip of his coffee. ‘I’m swinging wildly between thinking I’m on top of it and feeling like everything is chaos.’

‘How about your family?’ Jake asked the question casually, even though what he really meant was will your brother come?

Mal knew the answer to that. No. Obviously not. ‘I haven’t told them yet. I was going to pop round on Sunday and drop off an invitation.’ Sunday, because he knew that his sister-in-law would be there, so he would feel at least partially welcome.

He rubbed his hands over his eyes. ‘Ugh. I hope this goes well. I know it’s a risk expanding the business and taking on a café like this.’

Jake walked over and patted him on the shoulder. ‘It’ll be fine. I’m proud of you, mate.’

Mal looked up at his friend. He owed him everything. ‘That means a lot,’ he said.