Читать книгу Decadent Dreams - A.C. Arthur - Страница 12

Chapter 2

Lillian Reynolds-Drayson walked into the kitchen with an air of royalty that rivaled Queen Elizabeth. She was a tall woman, almost five-seven, with skin the color of warm honey weathered only slightly by time. She wore a rose-colored suit, the skirt modestly five inches below her knee, the jacket custom fit with floral appliqués at the shoulders and down the lapels. She loved pastel colors as much as she loved fresh flowers. But what Lillian loved most was this bakery and her grandchildren, most of whom were assembled around her.

“Good morning. I know you’re all wondering why I called you here this morning so I won’t beat around the bush,” she said.

Lillian stood at the head of the twelve-foot-long stainless steel worktable. To her left, her grandson Drake sat on a stool, his briefcase and paperwork spread out in front of him. Drake always had paperwork because his mind was always busy. That had been the case when he was a child and more so now that he’d grown up and decided he was better at marketing and advertising than he was at baking. After he’d graduated college and come into the fold, he’d brought new-generation fundamentals and visions into Lillian’s. He’d been the one to suggest those dang computers that took over most of the duties that Lillian and Henry had done themselves. Not that Lillian was complaining. She knew the day was coming soon that she would no longer stand at the helm of this business, dictating what its next step would be. And she wasn’t sad about that. It was the natural course of things. Life had to go on. Together she and Henry had built this legacy so that one day they could sit back and watch their offspring continue on with its success. She’d been fortunate that her grandchildren had the same talent and passion for baking as she did. While her children had also learned at her elbow, watching everything she did, tasting her new creations and helping in the early days of the bakery, they’d all seemed to grow in different directions.

But Lillian wasn’t one to be deterred. She knew at some point there would be someone to pass down the bakery to. Sitting right beside Drake was his sister Belinda. A more beautiful child Lillian swore she had never seen. A natural talent in the kitchen, tenacious and unwavering in everything she did. Lillian prayed especially hard, however, over this one every day.

To her right was another one of her granddaughters. Shari was a quiet one, very talented and a great mother to her four-year-old son, Andre. Lillian was proud of how dedicated a mother and a baker Shari had become. She only wished her granddaughter would one day experience the fulfillment of a good relationship.

Monica was her other granddaughter, but she wouldn’t be at today’s meeting. Monica had spearheaded one of their newest ventures, the production of dry cake and cookie mixes to be boxed for sale. Today she was meeting with their attorneys and distributors to discuss how to get Lillian’s gourmet mixes onto the shelves in as many stores as possible.

Standing beside Shari was a young man who was like a grandson to Lillian. She was the first to admit that she’d initially had doubts about Malik Anthony when he had no choice but to make a complete U-turn from a sports career to delivering cakes and pies all over Chicago. But Henry had convinced her to give the boy a chance. Her dear sweet husband had seen something in this young man that Lillian wasn’t quite sure was there. However, over time Malik had definitely proven himself to her and to this business.

She had another grandson, Carter, who was mysteriously missing from this meeting. That fact she would definitely deal with later.

“As you might know already, Daisy just returned from Los Angeles, where she had a meeting with a television studio.”

Malik stood up from his seat, going over to help Lillian. Taking her elbow, he guided her down as she angled for the stool behind her.

“Thank you, son,” she said with a smile.

Drake was also moving, bringing her a mug that Lillian knew would be filled with her favorite hazelnut coffee—three creams, one sugar. These boys had been raised right and would one day make some woman very happy.

“Daisy attended on behalf of the bakery. When she called me to report that the meeting had been successful, I was beside myself. Henry and I are very excited about this opportunity.” As she spoke, Lillian was careful to look around the table at the faces of the people who helped make this a renowned bakery.

In the back of her mind she knew that these bright and talented individuals would need more to draw from than just their undeniable talent for baking, a pretty face or charismatic personality. This was a big opportunity for them, and Lillian only prayed they would be able to come together to pull it off.

“One of those reality TV shows that your generation loves to watch has offered us a place in their next competition, I believe they call it...” she said, looking over at Drake for his input.

Drake nodded and pulled out of his briefcase a couple pamphlets that he passed among his sister, his cousin and Malik.

“You Take the Cake is the Festival of Foods channel’s highest-rated baking competition. It airs live weekly and features four bakeries that go head-to-head in a cake baking competition. The prize is one-hundred-thousand dollars and national recognition. We’re slated to compete in the next competition, which is two months from now,” Drake said, barely containing his excitement.

“Are you serious?” Shari asked first as she looked up from the pamphlet to Drake.

“Daisy was very serious about this deal,” Lillian answered. “As am I. I hope you all know how important this is.”

She heard Belinda sigh as she read Drake’s meticulous outline of the details of the competition. He paid as much attention to the details of his marketing presentations as Belinda did to everything else, whether it was baking or simply getting dressed. That girl needed everything to be just right. She’d been that way since she was little, and Lillian had watched her coordinate all the books on her shelf in alphabetical order then make sure each book was lined precisely so that none were sticking out farther than the others. Belinda had even played neatly, keeping all the clothes from her Barbie dolls stored in labeled ziplock bags. And when she packed them away, she was careful to smooth down the hair of each doll before laying them in the box and closing it. Then she would carry the box ever-so-slowly before slipping it under her bed. While Drake’s room usually looked like a hurricane had swept through it, Belinda’s, even at seven years old, looked as if she’d hired a maid to come in and clean it. The last time Lillian had been to Belinda’s apartment, she noted her granddaughter’s ways hadn’t changed over the years.

“So we’re going to compete with another bakery on a national television series?” Belinda asked.

Drake smiled. “Yes, that’s exactly what we’re going to do. And we’re going to win this competition because once we do, Lillian’s will be recognized as Chicago’s number-one bakery.”

“We’re already Chicago’s number-one bakery,” Shari added.

“But this will make us official,” Drake told her.

“This will make us national,” Malik spoke up finally. “With the win under our belt, Monica won’t have any problem getting the stores to carry the mixes. We could open another location, branch out to have shops in different states.”

“Now you see where I’m going with this,” Drake said. “This is a phenomenal opportunity for us. Once we win, we’ll be golden!” Drake told them, unable to contain his enthusiasm.

Even Belinda had smiled at that. “Winning would be a coup for us. We’ve already been featured in a couple cooking magazines but with this we’re liable to make the cover. And Festival of Foods has a great national following. They’re the top food channel out there.”

“We could try some new recipes,” Shari said, tapping her fingers on the pamphlet as she talked. “Do something nobody has ever done before. Different flavors and fillings.”

Belinda nodded. “You’re right. We need to think about designs, too. Those shows pay a lot of attention to detail. Do we know what the theme is?” she asked.

Drake’s smile widened. “Around the World. We’ve got five different countries to work with. Five unique opportunities to show why we’re the best.”

“And since we are the best, we’re going to wow those judges with our cakes!” Shari added, her excitement showing in the smile on her round face.

“Not so fast,” Lillian interjected. “You all are rushing into this like winning is the only possible outcome.”

“It’s called confidence, Grandma,” Drake added, still smiling.

“The same confidence the Hare had when he thought he was a shoo-in to win that race against the Tortoise,” she replied with a frown. “Just because we bake good cakes here inside this bakery doesn’t mean we’ll be able to do the same thing in another location, against other bakers. Talent is not enough for this competition.”

“We’re not trying to be overconfident, Grandma,” Shari said. “We just know what our strengths are. We know what we’re capable of because we had the best teacher.”

Lillian could have smiled at that compliment but she didn’t want her grandchildren to become complacent. She hadn’t gotten this far in this business by believing she was the best; she’d done it by showing she was the best. Not just in baking, but in customer service and professionalism. This had been no easy feat, and she wanted her grandchildren to realize that.

“And that’s why I’m going to teach you something else,” she told her grandchildren. “This competition can only be won if you all work together. Teamwork has got to be the key. If all of you go out there trying to show that you personally are the best, you’ll fall flat on your face.”

“We know that we’re a team, Grandma,” Belinda added.

Lillian shook her head. Belinda came from what Lillian liked to call “Team Me.” She believed that she was the best at everything and so she rarely let anyone help her. She was independent to the point of being a loner and that definitely was not going to work.

“Then it’s time you all showed it. Play your strengths and divide and conquer. I want the team to win, not one of you. Your grandfather and I are looking to retire and we’d like to know who’s able to run this company and who’s not,” she said pointedly, being sure to look at each and every one of them that was there.

“We get it, Grandma,” Drake said after a moment of silence.

Shari nodded and reached out to touch Lillian’s hand. “We’ll make you proud.”

“I’m already proud,” Lillian said.

“Do you know who our competition is?” Malik asked Drake.

“They’re all listed in the back of the pamphlet. Two of them are relatively new but one—” He stopped to look up at Shari.

She had just flipped to the back of the pamphlet and they all knew the second she read the list of names because she dropped the pamphlet.

“I can beat her,” Shari said defiantly.

By “her” she was referring to Dina English, owner and head pastry chef at Brown Sugar Bakery.

“This is not the place for personal grudges,” Drake told Shari.

She lifted her chin and took a deep breath. “I don’t hold grudges.”

Everyone in the room went silent. That was one of the biggest and most blatant lies they’d ever heard. Shari indeed held a grudge against her once-best-friend Dina English, who had not only branched out and started her own bakery, but had taken a few of Lillian’s baking secrets with her. For years Dina had been like a member of the Drayson family, working summers in the bakery while she and Shari had attended college together. When she started Brown Sugar Bakery, it had come as a complete surprise, especially to Shari.

“I mean it. I’ll be fine,” Shari told them.

Lillian simply nodded toward her granddaughter, hoping she would be able to stand true to her word.