Читать книгу Second-Chance Sweet Shop - Rochelle Alers - Страница 11
ОглавлениеThe chilly February temperature and lightly falling rain did little to dispel the excitement coursing through Sasha Manning. She’d lost track of the number of times she had glanced at the wall clock. It was a week before Valentine’s Day and the grand opening of her patisserie. Sasha’s Sweet Shoppe was located on Main Street, in the heart of Wickham Falls’ downtown business district. The mayor, several members of the town council and the chamber of commerce had promised to be on hand at ten for the ribbon-cutting photo op.
“You can keep staring at that clock, but it isn’t going to make the hands move any faster.”
Sasha turned to look at her mother. Charlotte Manning had worked tirelessly alongside her over the past four months to get the shop ready. And Sasha knew Charlotte, who’d had a mild heart attack nearly a year ago, could not continue to put in such long hours. Several days ago, she’d posted a help-wanted sign in the front window.
“I keep wondering if they’re going to cancel the photo shoot because of the weather.” The words were barely off her tongue when the town’s photographer knocked lightly on the door. Sasha pressed her palms together to conceal their trembling. The door chimed when she opened it.
“Good morning, Jonas.”
“Good morning, Sasha. Charlotte.”
Jonas Harper, performing double duty as the photographer for the town and The Sentinel, Wickham Falls’ biweekly, set his leather equipment bag on the floor and then walked over to the showcases filled with colorful confectionaries. “They look too pretty to eat.”
Sasha smiled at the middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper ponytail. She’d spent the past two days putting together an assortment of tarts, tortes, cookies and pies. Earlier that morning she’d baked several loaves of white, wheat, rye and pumpernickel bread. “I’ve put aside samples for you and the others.”
Jonas unzipped his bright yellow waterproof poncho. “Is there someplace where I can hang this up?”
Charlotte stepped forward and held out her hand. “I’ll take that for you.”
Sasha watched her mother as she took Jonas’s poncho, offering him a bright smile. At fifty-six, Charlotte was still a very attractive woman, despite what she’d had to go through during her volatile marriage to a man she was never able to please. Her blond hair was now a shimmering silver and there were a few noticeable lines around her bright blue eyes.
As the youngest of three, and the only girl, Sasha would cover her head with a pillow to drown out what were daily arguments between her parents. She had counted down the time until she graduated high school and could leave Wickham Falls, as her brothers had done when they enlisted in the military. It had been more than a decade since she’d called Wickham Falls home, but now she was back to stay.
“This place is really nice,” Jonas said, as he glanced around the bakery. “It reminds me of some of the little bakeshops I saw when I visited Paris.”
Sasha nodded, smiling. The colorful wallpaper stamped with images of pies, cakes, muffins and cupcakes provided a cheerful backdrop for twin refrigerated showcases, recessed lights, a quartet of pendants, and a trio of bistro tables and chairs. She had also purchased a coffee press, a cappuccino machine and a commercial blender to offer specialty coffees.
“That’s what I had in mind when I decided to open this place.” Although she’d never been to Paris, she had watched countless televised travel and cooking shows featuring French cooking to know exactly how she wanted her patisserie to look. Her mother had teased her, saying perhaps the residents of The Falls weren’t ready for fancy tarts and pastries with names they weren’t able to pronounce. But Sasha refused to let anyone dissuade her from her dream of starting over as a successful pastry chef.
When growing up she hadn’t known what she wanted to do or be. Everything changed, once she left Wickham Falls and moved to Tennessee to accept a position as a companion to an elderly woman. Adele Harvey, the former English teacher and reclusive widow of a man who made a fortune buying and selling real estate, had become the grandmother Sasha never had.
Sasha saw the ad online for a live-in companion and filled out an application, despite not having any experience aside from occasionally babysitting her neighbors’ young children. Two weeks following her high school graduation Sasha boarded a bus for a trip to Memphis, Tennessee, for an in-person interview with Mrs. Harvey and the attorney overseeing the legal affairs of the childless widow. It had taken the older woman only ten minutes to announce she was hired, and when Sasha returned to Memphis in mid-August it was as a first-class passenger on a direct flight, followed by a chauffeur-driven limo to what would become her new home.
The bell chimed again, breaking into her thoughts, and the editor of the newspaper walked in. Langston Cooper had left The Falls to pursue a career as a journalist. For more than a decade he had covered the Middle East as a foreign correspondent for an all-news cable station before returning to the States to write several bestselling books. His life mirrored Sasha’s when he married a popular singer, but the union was dissolved amid rumors that she’d had an affair with an actor. Langston returned to Wickham Falls, took over ownership of the dwindling biweekly and within two years had increased the newspaper’s circulation and advertising revenue.
Taking off his baseball cap, he smiled at Sasha, exhibiting straight, white teeth in his light brown complexion. Growing up, Langston and her brother had been what folks said were as thick as thieves. You’d never see one without the other.
Walking over to him, she pressed her cheek to his smooth-shaven jaw. “Thank you for coming.”
Langston dropped a kiss on the mass of curly hair framing Sasha’s round face. “Did you actually think I would miss the grand opening of The Falls’ celebrity pastry chef?”
Sasha blushed to the roots of her natural strawberry-blond hair. She’d dyed the bright red strands a nondescript brown following her divorce to avoid attracting the attention of eagle-eyed paparazzi who’d hounded her relentlessly once the word was out that she was no longer married to country-music heartthrob Grant Richards.
“Have you forgotten that I’m not the only celebrity in The Falls?” she teased with a smile. “After all, you are a New York Times bestselling author.”
Langston nodded. “I didn’t come here for you to talk about me, but about you. After photos and the speeches, I’d like you to schedule some time for an interview for The Sentinel’s Who’s Who column.”
Since coming back to The Falls Sasha had discovered her hometown had changed—and for the better. The list of those returning to Wickham Falls to put down roots was growing. Langston had become editor in chief of The Sentinel, Seth Collier was now sheriff, and Sawyer Middleton headed the technology department for the Johnson County Public Schools system. And for Sasha it was a no-brainer. The Falls was the perfect place for her to start over with a business where she did not have a competitor.
“Can you call me in a couple of weeks?” she asked.
“You’ve got it.” Langston leaned closer and kissed her cheek. “Good luck and congratulations,” he said as he left.
She hoped the samples she planned to offer those coming into the shop for her grand opening would generate return customers. A nervous smile barely lifted the corners of her mouth when she spied the mayor, several members of the town council and the head of the chamber of commerce through the plate-glass window.
“It’s showtime, Natasha,” Charlotte whispered.
“Yes, it is, Mama.” Her mother was the only one who had refused to call her by her preferred name. When her mother brought her home from the hospital, her three-year-old brother could not pronounce Natasha; he’d begun calling her Sasha and the name stuck. She walked over to the door and opened it.
Sasha let out an audible sigh when the town officials filed out of the shop, each with a small white box, stamped with the patisserie’s logo, and filled with miniature samples of red velvet, pumpkin spice, lemon-lime and chocolate hazelnut cupcakes. Cupcakes had become her signature specialty.
She pushed her hands into the pockets of the pink tunic with her name and the shop’s logo stamped over her heart. “Even though Mayor Gillespie was a little long-winded, I think it went well.”
“It went very, very well,” Charlotte said in agreement. “Jonas took wonderful shots of the shop, and after your interview with Langston I’m willing to bet that you won’t be able to keep up with the demand for your cupcakes.”
Charlotte gave her daughter a reassuring smile. When she had come back six months before she had felt like crying when she opened the door to see her last born appear to be a shadow of the young woman who had come to her father’s funeral what now seemed so long ago. The bright red hair was a mousy brown, and she had lost a lot of weight. At five-nine she’d appeared almost emaciated and it took Charlotte all her resolve not to become hysterical. It was only after she revealed the circumstances behind her marriage and subsequent divorce that Charlotte understood what Natasha had gone through.
Sasha pulled her lower lip between her teeth. She wanted to sell not only cupcakes, but also specialty cakes, breads and made-to-order elegant desserts. Wickham Falls wasn’t Nashville, but she didn’t plan to offer the small-town residents creations of a lesser quality than those in the Music City. The doorbell chimed and within minutes there was a steady stream of curious potential customers. She’d sold out of fresh bread before the noon hour.
“May I help you?” Sasha asked an attractive teenage girl with large dark brown eyes and neatly braided hair ending at her shoulders.
“Yes. I’ve come to apply for the part-time counterperson position.”
“Are you still in school?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m finished with my classes at noon, so I’m available from one on.”
Sasha didn’t want to write the girl off before she interviewed her, although she would’ve preferred someone more mature. “What’s your name?”
“Kiera Adams. My dad is Dwight Adams,” she said proudly.
The moment Kiera mentioned her father’s name Sasha realized she was the daughter of the local dentist. “Does your father know you’re applying for the position?” She had asked the question because she did not want to have a problem with parents questioning the number of hours their son or daughter were committed to work.
Kiera shook her head. “Not yet. I figured I’d tell him once you hired me.”
Sasha bit back a smile. The young woman did not lack confidence. “Mama, could you please cover the front while I talk to Miss Adams?”
Charlotte nodded. “Of course.”
Sasha led Kiera to the rear of the shop, where she had set up an area for her office. She glanced over her shoulder. “Please sit down, Kiera. I’ve made up an application and I’ll give you time to fill it out before we talk.”
The help-wanted sign had been in the window for three days, and Kiera was the first person to respond. Sasha frosted several dozen cupcakes while Kiera filled out the application.
“I’m finished with the application, Miss…”
“You may call me Sasha,” she said when Kiera’s words trailed off.
She took the single sheet of paper from the teenager’s outstretched hand. It took less than a minute to review what Kiera had written. Although Sasha hadn’t included a category for age, Kiera indicated she was sixteen and a junior at the local high school. She was available to work every day beginning at one in the afternoon, and all day Saturday. Her prior work experience was as a temporary receptionist the previous summer at her father’s dental practice.
Sasha revealed, if hired, what Kiera would be responsible for. She would need Kiera to work four hours every afternoon from Tuesday through Friday. And if needed, one or two Saturdays each month. “If I hire you, will it interfere with your studies?”
“No, ma’am. Even though I’m enrolled as a junior, I’m taking senior-level classes.” She flashed a demure smile. “I took a lot of AP courses when I went to school in New York.”
It was apparent Dr. Adams’s daughter was very bright, and it was the third time Kiera had referred to her as “ma’am,” which made her feel much older than thirty-two. “You are the first one to apply for the position, and I’m going to keep your application on hand. I plan to wait a few more days, and if no one else applies, then I’ll contact you. Please keep in mind if I do decide to bring you on that initially you’ll start at the minimum wage.”
Kiera stood up. “Does that mean I’ll get the job?”
Sasha felt as if she’d been just put on the spot. “I’m going to be up-front with you, Kiera. You’re still a student and I don’t want you to compromise your grades. And because of this I’d like your permission to talk to your father.”
Kiera tucked several braids behind one ear. “I don’t mind, Miss Sasha.” She paused. “Will you call me if you decide not to hire me?”
“I will send you an email.”
Leaning down, Kiera picked up her backpack. “Thank you.”
Sasha smiled. “You’re very welcome. I still have a few samples on hand I’d like to give you from our grand opening. Are you allergic to chocolate?”
A smile spread across the girl’s face, softening her youthful features. “Thank goodness, no. I love chocolate.”
Sasha scrunched up her nose. “It’s my weakness, too.” She walked over to a refrigerator in the prep kitchen and took out a candy cane–striped box and filled it with chocolate crinkle cookies, brownies, a cup of chocolate mousse topped with whipped cream and grated chocolate, and the last chocolate hazelnut cupcake. “Enjoy. And thank you for coming in.”
Kiera’s smile was dazzling. “Thank you so much, Miss Sasha.”
There was something about Kiera’s youthful enthusiasm Sasha liked.
Dwight Adams’s head popped up when he heard the light tapping on the door to his office. He had a two-hour wait before seeing his next patient. He hadn’t expected to see his daughter until later that night, but her coming to his practice was a welcome surprise. He came around the desk to hug her as she dropped the backpack filled with books on the carpet and set a red-and-white-striped box on a side table.
“What are you doing here?”
Kiera rose on tiptoe to kiss her father’s cheek. “What happened to ‘nice seeing you’?”
“Of course I’m happy to see you. It’s just that I didn’t expect you to come here instead of going home. And, by the way, how did you get here?”
“I asked Grammie to drop me off. She has a luncheon meeting with the Ladies Auxiliary.”
Dwight studied the teenager who was the mirror image of her mother at that age. The exception was her complexion and height, which she had inherited from him. Kiera, at five-six, was four inches taller than her petite five-foot-two mother. The school bus picked up and dropped off Kiera at the house; Dwight’s widowed mother lived in a two-bedroom guesthouse Dwight had built on the property.
Kiera rested her hands on the thighs of her denim-covered jeans. “I applied for a part-time job at the new bakery.”
Dwight went completely still. “You did what?”
“Please don’t lose it, Daddy.”
Extending his legs, he ran a hand over his face. “I’m not losing it, Kiera. I just need to know why you feel the need to get a job when you should be concentrating on your schoolwork. And it can’t be about money, because I give you an allowance.”
Kiera slipped her right hand in her father’s left, threading their fingers together. “I need something to beef up my college applications, either work or community service. A lot of kids at school have already signed up at the church, town hall and other businesses in Wickham Falls. And besides, Miss Sasha said I was the first one to apply, so there is a good chance she might hire me.”
“What about your working here?” Dwight questioned.
The summer before Kiera had worked for him when the permanent receptionist went on vacation. As a divorced father, he shared custody with his ex-wife, Adrienne; for years Kiera lived in New York with her and spent one month every summer with him in The Falls. He had made it a practice to visit his daughter several times a year, and whenever he returned home, he’d experienced a modicum of guilt that he bore some responsibility for ending his marriage when he’d been away in the military, which resulted in his not being there to see his daughter grow up. However, everything had changed this past summer when Kiera announced she did not want to return to New York to live with her mother and stepfather, and preferred spending the last two years of high school living with her father and grandmother in Wickham Falls.
Dwight had a lengthy conversation with his ex-wife and convinced her it was time for him to have his daughter for more than a month or a brief visit on school holidays. She finally agreed, with the provision that Kiera vacationed with her during the month of July. Assuming the role as a full-time father had also impacted his obligation as an army reservist. Serving his country for almost two decades while attaining the rank of major was now relegated to his past.
“That’s nepotism, Daddy. I can’t put down that I worked for Dwight Adams, DDS, and not have someone question our relationship. Miss Sasha said she wanted to talk to you beforehand if she decides to hire me. I guess she doesn’t want my having a job to mess with my grades.”
“Good for her.” Dwight liked the idea that Kiera’s potential employer was concerned about her education.
Although he was five or six years old than Sasha Manning, Dwight hadn’t had much interaction with her when growing up in The Falls. He and two of her older brothers had attended high school at the same time. But he’d heard a lot about Sasha when she became a celebrity chef and then married platinum-selling country singer Grant Richards. He was as surprised as most in town when she returned to The Falls to set up a bakeshop in one of the vacant stores at the far end of Main Street.
Kiera pointed to the box. “She gave me samples of chocolate desserts. I was going to leave it in the break room until I remembered Miss Chambers is on a diet and doesn’t want to eat anything with sugar, so I’m going to take them home for Gram…” Her words trailed off when her cell phone rang. Reaching into her jacket pocket, she stared at the phone. “It’s Miss Sasha. She said she would email me if she wasn’t going to hire me.”
Dwight pointed to Kiera’s death grip on the small instrument. “Are you going to answer your phone?” He noticed her expression of apprehension when she put it to her ear. Her expression changed quickly as she covered her mouth with her free hand. “Yes. My dad is here with me.” Kiera extended the phone to him. “Miss Sasha would like to speak to you.”
He took the phone. “Hello.”
“Dr. Adams, this is Sasha Manning. Your daughter applied for a part-time position at my bakeshop. Although I told her that I’m waiting to interview other folks, I’ve decided to hire her, and I would like to talk to you because I need your reassurance that her hours won’t conflict with her schoolwork.”
Dwight smiled. His priority for his daughter was maintaining her grades so she could gain acceptance into at least one or two of her colleges of choice. It was apparent Sasha was of like mind. They discussed the details of the position. Dwight agreed to let her take the job but warned that if her grades slipped, she’d have to quit.
“I understand that, Dr. Adams. If it’s all right with you, I’d like her to start tomorrow. I’m going to need a copy of her immunizations because she’ll be working in what we call food service, and her Social Security number.”
“I can get those to you later this afternoon after my last patient. What time do you close?”
“I draw the shades once I close at six, but I’ll be here later than that. Does that work for you?”
Dwight nodded although she couldn’t see him. “Yes.” He was scheduled to see his last patient at 5:30. Then he would have to go home and get the documents Sasha needed to place Kiera on her payroll. “I’ll probably see you after you close.”
“I’ll be here.” There came a pause before Sasha’s voice came through the earpiece again. “Thank you, Dr. Adams. I hope you don’t mind my saying, but your daughter is a delight.”
Dwight stared at Kiera staring back at him and winked at her. He had to agree with Sasha. There was never a time when he did not enjoy spending time with his daughter. And now that she was living with him, they had grown even closer. “I know I sound biased, but I have to agree with you. She is pretty special.”
“I’ll see you tonight?”
“Yes,” Dwight confirmed.
“Dr. Adams, can you spare a few minutes of your time when you come because I’d like to talk to you about something other than your daughter’s employment.”
He paused, wondering what it was Sasha wanted to discuss with him. “Yes,” Dwight repeated, now that she had aroused his curiosity. He ended the call and handed the phone back to Kiera. “It looks as if you’re hired.”
Kiera clasped her hands together in a prayerful gesture. “When do I start?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Instead of the bus dropping me off at the house, I’ll get off with some of the other kids on the other side of the tracks.”
Dwight nodded. The railroad tracks ran through the downtown business district. “What about lunch?” He knew Kiera left school early because lunch was her last period of the school day.
“I get out at twelve and by the time the bus drops me off it will be about 12:30. Instead of going home to eat, I’ll ask Grammie to help me make lunch and I’ll eat it here before walking down to the bakery.”
He smiled. “You have it all figured out, don’t you?”
“Daddy, aren’t you the one who told me to have a strategy before I execute a plan?”
Dwight managed to look sheepish. “Yes, I did.” He’d lost track of the number of forewarnings he’d given his daughter over the years, and it was apparent she remembered most of them because she could repeat them verbatim.
Dwight found a parking spot behind the bakery and walked around to the front. He’d dropped Kiera at home and told his mother not to plan for him to eat dinner with her and his daughter. He had no way of knowing how long his meeting with Sasha would take.
The woven shade on Sasha’s storefront had been pulled down, as had the one covering the front door.
Dwight tapped lightly on a square of the door’s beveled glass insert, and seconds later he saw Sasha as she pushed aside the shade and then opened the door. He was just as shocked as many in the town at the word that Sasha Manning was back in town, and without her superstar country-artist husband. She’d kept a low profile until the town council approved her opening a bakeshop in the downtown business district. Questions about her marriage were finally answered when a photographer captured photos of Grant Richards with a woman who was purported to be his new girlfriend. And when reporters asked Grant about his relationship with Sasha, he’d admitted it was over.
Smiling, Sasha opened the door wider. “Please come in.”
