Chapter Three
Setting rules and being firm with her extended large family required constant vigilance and lots and lots of positive reinforcement.
Prior to opening Gigi’s Chocolate and Cookie Emporium, the family would think nothing of stopping to chat to Gigi in the checkout line, whilst she was at the gym, or visiting her mother at her hair salon, and rattling off a list of goodies they wanted Gigi to make for their next get together, shindig or party.
Gratis, of course. And could she have it all ready by tomorrow at ten?
These days Gigi carried business cards everywhere, passing one over whenever she was cornered, along with a delighted but firm smile, reminding her relatives that they would need to book a consult if they wished to make a special order.
Also advising that the card carried her website address, where they could see a recommended pricelist helped to winnow out those looking for a freebie or a time sensitive rush job.
Gigi had been planning her Emporium for a decade.
Not just the sumptuous shop front, decked out like a Parisian bakery, with lots and lots of dark purple accents in Canary’s signature colour.
But her dream industrial kitchen. From the height of the workbenches, to the brands of the ovens.
Every detail, no matter how small, had to be perfect.
And it was.
Of course a gorgeous shop and magnificently fitted-out kitchen could only get you so far.
In the first few months after opening, time had been Gigi’s enemy.
There had never been enough hours in the day.
No time to spend idly chatting with the customers to get their reactions to her creations.
Or just while away an afternoon experimenting and tweaking a new recipe to get it exactly perfect.
She’d had to learn to juggle five things at once, all with a smile on her face.
Dragging herself off to bed every night well after midnight, spreadsheet numbers still dancing in her head concerning the days earnings, matching them against how much everything cost. Only to drag herself out of bed a few scant hours later to begin preparing all the goodies and treats for that day’s trading.
She’d secretly wept the first day she employed a shop assistant.
Aunt Daisy had been a Goddess-send, given she’d been raised from the cradle helping her Great-Grandmother, Margot, bake magical goods.
Daisy was garrulous and a natural saleswoman.
Readily able to convince shoppers to purchase more than they intended or to try something new.
Daisy had claimed Gigi was doing her a favour. All five of her adult children having boomeranged back home recently. And if Daisy wasn’t home, then they’d have do their own cleaning, laundry and cooking.
Within three weeks Darcy had been able to afford to pay Daisy much closer to what she was worth. Easily done, as with Daisy there, Darcy had been able to spend more time baking and creating. More goods had translated to more money coming in, who knew?
Before long Great-Uncle Henry had come looking for a job in the kitchen.
Retired, and bored, a few years ago Henry had turned his attention to artisanal bread making.
Going on to win awards at craft fairs around the country.
Selling his recipes to a bakery in Sydney had left him at a loose end.
Better still, he actually enjoyed getting up before dawn.
Soon after two more relatives had joined the party.
Second-Cousin Bee, who helped Daisy out in the shop.
And Heraldo, an Italian, former brick layer, who’d married Uncle Klaus some fifty years ago and was looking for a new career path that meant he didn’t have to work outdoors and was kinder on his aching back.
And funnily enough, all those years of mixing cement translated extraordinarily well to following Gigi’s recipes.
The shop had only been half the equation in transforming her dream into a reality. Gigi had determinedly made over herself as well. Being a business owner wasn’t just about bricks and mortar. It was about setting a high standard of customer service and delivering on that promise each and every day.
Which meant Gigi had to take a long hard look at herself.
Almost two years ago, four days before the grand opening, she’d marched into her mother’s hair salon.
An hour later she’d walked out a brand new woman.
She’d instructed Gwen to give her low maintenance professional hair.
Of course her mother had delivered that and a whole lot more.
Gigi’s fine white blonde hair had been cut into a sassy sleek do, overlong on top, without getting in her eyes, and razored back around her ears.
Gigi had also chosen to adopt a kind of daily uniform, which cut way down on the stress of trying to figure out what to wear each day and hopefully promoted the professional look she was aiming for.
Most days she wore a boat neck collared white blouse, pairing it with a grey fitted skirt that fell just below her knees.
Tying the whole thing together with a wide purple belt cinching in her waist. Purple mary-janes went on her feet when she was out on a consult.
Swapping them for comfy sneakers when she was back in the shop.
Though the look was only part of the equation.
The final part of the puzzle was the new rules that Gigi was determined to live by.
Always promote a cheerful and can-do attitude.
Confirm consults twenty-four hours prior.
Be five minutes early for the actual consult.
Don’t get side-tracked by the weird and wacky (this was her family after all, just roll with it or ignore it.) Get a deposit.
Don’t agree to impossible demands. And always, always bring treats.
With all that in mind, Gigi doubled-checked that she had everything in hand, pausing before the Transportal located in the cloak closet at the bottom of the stairs leading up to her personal apartment.
Uniform in place. Shoes polished. Treats in a purple and white striped box in one hand.
Canary, snug in his wicker travel case snapped to her belt.
Work tablet tucked under her other arm. Cheerful smile in place.
She was ready. She was not thinking about the two dead bodies in her freezer. She was not thinking that the last six days things had been too quiet. No intruders. No briefing packet appearing out of the blue on her pillow stamped with the words Top Secret. And no mysterious partner.
Gigi would take the win; maybe the plot to take over the Earth had already fizzled out. One could only hope.
Watch buzzing. It was time. To be professional. To be early. To wow her prospective client.
Stepping out of the Portal, having magically transported to her cousin Hadleigh’s kitchen, Gigi ignored the thunderous battle war cry that rent the air, seeming to make the entire old farmhouse shudder. It helped that two seconds later a high-pitched baby giggle of delight followed.
“Gunther. GUNTHER. You’re supposed to be putting Asher down for his nap, not winding him up.
” Lucy Valhalla rolled her eyes, though there was a smile on her face as she turned, her smile growing wider as she noted her niece had arrived.
“Gigi, darling. Come on in. I was just about to pour everyone a cup of tea.”
Everyone?
“Hi, Aunt Lucy, Nico.” She didn’t allow her smile to slip.
What was Nico Yanez, owner of the Five Alarm Bar, doing here?
Was he her competition for this job? Huh, well good luck outshining her presentation.
Moving over to the large kitchen island, where her Aunt had the tea steeping and several china cups waiting, Gigi plonked the purple striped box down and with three quick twists transformed it into a tray.
One laden with truffles, chocolate treats and several cookies, cut out in shapes of high-heeled shoes, handbags and lipsticks.
She may be vying for an opportunity to cater a family party, but Aunt Lucy would be the one making all the decisions and paying the bill.
Glancing Nico’s way, hoping to catch him looking a little out of his depth, Gigi was annoyed to find he was looking not just sullen, but kind of grumpy. Perhaps he wasn’t a fan of tea.
Lucy picked up the large pot and began pouring, glancing at the tray. “Oh, doesn’t everything look wonderful? You are so talented, Gi. I, um, don’t suppose you brought—”
Honestly, when were her relatives going to relax already?
Her treats were all perfectly safe to eat.
It was annoying that no one seemed to be able to forgive a few stupid mistakes she’d made when she was coming into her powers at thirteen.
Or forget that incident when she was sixteen.
Or cease dwelling on the Christmas party mishap when she was twenty-two.
“Oh, there he is.” Lucy cooed as Gigi released Canary from his tiny travelling cage that she’d had attached to her belt.
No bigger than her hand, bright dark purple, with large floppy ears, and a cotton ball of a tail.
Sporting a glittering amethyst choker today.
Because nothing said business meeting for her magical construct than a bit of bling.
Everyone thought Gigi was the one who’d started dressing the bunny up in odd bits of bling soon after Hadleigh’s melding to Maat Warrior, Vaughn.
Nope. Not Gigi. She suspected her bridesmaid dress.
Weird ass thing. All Gaia’s other bridesmaids reported their dresses were highly territorial and made great guard dogs.
What did Gigi get? One that liked to clean up spills and treated her bunny construct like a dress up doll.