Take the Cake (25 page)

Walking through SoHo, Michael glanced at his surroundings and the people around him as he made his way toward his usual grocery store. Strolling past a small gift shop, he pulled up short and then backtracked to the display window, peering in at a small reclining Buddha figurine. It reminded him of Kate and made him smile. Words began to whisper at the back of his mind. He walked on, and the words followed.

A few stops later, Michael had purchased everything he needed, and the words had accumulated to become a dull roar. Shifting the bags handles to a more comfortable grip, he walked on, stopping in at a liquor store to pick up a bottle of wine that he added to his load. Pausing on the sidewalk, he considered his purchases and the trip home, and hailed a cab. Shoving the bags of groceries across the backseat, he got in, and after giving his address, rummaged around for one of the receipts before realizing he didn’t have a pen. The words kept coming, but he’d be home soon.

~~~

“Is it time to go home yet?” Wren gave the clock a mournful look. “Surely it’s home time somewhere.”

“Not yet,” Emily replied as she finished stacking the morning’s baking pans, “but we’re getting there.”

“Not soon enough,” Wren groused. “I’m ready to start my weekend.”

“Big plans?”

“No,” Wren admitted. “But I’m looking forward to sleeping in and not having anywhere I have to be. How about you, are you going to be seeing Brad?”

“Yup.” Emily grinned. “We’re going to catch a movie tonight and then find what Brad calls a ‘cheap and cheerful’ for dinner.”

“Sounds good. And after that?” Wren raised an eyebrow meaningfully.

“Ah, well …” Emily hedged. “We’ll see how the evening goes. How about you and David? Any sleepovers yet?” She was stacking plates for a moment before she realized there had been no reply. “Wren?” She turned. Wren was wiping down the coffee machine with a look of fierce concentration. “Wren?”

“I’m not saying,” Wren replied at last.

“Why not?” Emily was curious now. It wasn’t like Wren to keep quiet on the subject, and she was surprised when Wren turned and gave her a hesitant look.

“Because I’m not entirely sure what’s going on, but whatever it is, I don’t want to jinx it,” she said at last. “David’s … different.”

“And it’s making you different too,” Emily added.

“Different good or different bad?” Wren asked after an anxious pause.

“There was nothing wrong with you to begin with, and it’s nothing bad. You’re just … different. Whatever he’s doing, babe, he’s doing it right.”

Wren considered this. “If you thought it was something bad, you’d tell me, right?”

“If you promise never to shoot the messenger,” Emily clarified. “I’ve seen too many friendships go down in flames because friends have said what they thought.”

“Pinky swear,” Wren replied, offering a hand. The girls shook on the deal with solemn faces and then began to laugh.

“Seriously, though,” Emily said as they caught their breath, “David’s got you in a good place, so I really hope things work out.”

“We’ll see.” Wren nodded.

“Speaking of good places, Kate and Michael seem to be happy,” Emily ventured as they both got back to work.

“For sure,” Wren agreed. “She handled the whole ‘famous author’ thing a lot better than I thought she would.”

Emily looked up from wiping down the counter. “What, you thought she’d freak out?”

“Not as such.” Wren shrugged. “But she’s a person that likes to keep things honest. You know Paul, and you’ve heard stories about her parents, so you know she’s from a family of straight shooters.”

“Straight, yeah, so Thomas must’ve rocked her world a bit,” Emily mused.

“It did,” Wren agreed. “She told me that she and Thomas had a
lot
of talks about that once she got over the shock. She also saw a therapist for a while too.”

“Really?” Emily looked amazed. Kate seemed to be one of the most grounded people she knew.

“I know she comes across as Little Miss Confident, but think about it. She loses her father in a car accident while she’s driving, then her first
serious
boyfriend reveals that he’s gay. She still has a lot of self-esteem issues at times, but she’s working on it.”

“Wow.” Emily went back to wiping the counter down, slower this time as she processed what Wren had said. “I guess that’d be pretty hard.”

“For sure. She lost the man that was the cornerstone of her life in the blink of an eye, and then a year later the guy that she’d totally bared herself to in every sense of the word totally rejects her. It’s a lot for a young woman to take.”

“She’s told you all this?”

“Not in so many words.” Wren rinsed out the steel milk jug and began to wipe it dry. “She’s said a few things here and there, and Paul has made the odd comment. Thomas was the one that has told me the most, so I’ve pieced it all together over time.”

“Thomas?” Emily looked up in disbelief. “He told you?”

“Granted we were both drunk at the time.” Wren shrugged. “But yeah. He told me all about it. He loves Kate dearly, just not in
that
way, which is why he’s still around. Even though he’s hurt her, he’s still very protective.”

“Isn’t that a double standard?” Emily rinsed out her washcloth and hung it over the sink to dry.

“Might be to some, could be his way of atoning. Either way, he’s not going anywhere until Kate tells him to.”

“I wonder what he’ll make of Michael,” Emily mused.

“I think as long as Kate’s happy, he’ll be okay, but if he hurts her, I wouldn’t want a bitch queen like Thomas against me. But speaking of which …” She nodded toward the door, and Emily turned to see Michael walking toward the counter, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head.

“Hey, Wren, Emily.” Michael nodded at each of them in turn with a smile. “How’s your day been?”

“Busy as usual, but we’re winding down for the day now,” Emily replied, running an appreciative eye over his jeans and T-shirt.
Brad. Remember Brad.
She gave a quiet sigh; just because she was on a diet didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate the buffet. Emily watched, amused, as Wren turned the full force of her charm on Michael and it had no effect.

“Michael, you’re looking
good
. Are you here for your girl?” Wren rested her elbows on the counter and leaned forward to give him a leisurely inspection. Her grin broadened as he gave a slight cough to cover his embarrassment.

Emily delighted in the slight tinge of pink that colored Michael’s cheeks at the mention of Kate.

“I am,” he replied with a smile. “Is she here?”

“She’s out running an errand,” Wren answered, “but she’s due back any minute. You want a coffee while you wait?”

“If it’s no trouble,” Michael began, reaching for his wallet.

“Sorry, Michael, your money’s no good here,” Wren said, rebuffing his offer with a smile. “Take a seat and we’ll bring it over.”

Michael flashed a smile of thanks and strolled toward a table against the wall. Emily smiled too as she realized he had chosen a spot where he could keep an eye on the door while he flicked through a copy of an old
National Geographic
that he had snagged off the bookshelf. Emily cast her gaze around the store, and seeing nothing urgent that needed doing, strolled over and leaned against the counter next to the cash register to chat with Wren while she made Michael’s coffee.

“They make a cute pair,” Emily commented.

“Sure do, and his style is loosening up too,” Wren replied as she waited for the espresso to filter through into the cup.

“Well, yeah, I guess he’s looking pretty relaxed,” Emily said in a doubtful tone, wondering what she was missing as she looked over at Michael again. He was leaning back in his chair with his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles as he flicked through the magazine, smiling here and there.

“No, I meant his style,” Wren clarified as she reached for a saucer. “Remember how he always used to wear button-down shirts and leather shoes? Look at him now.”

Emily hadn’t paid much attention to what Michael usually wore, but she had to admit on closer inspection that Wren had a point. Michael was wearing an old pair of jeans and a T-shirt that featured the iconic image of Che Guevara. A pair of gray Converse completed the outfit. Emily smiled when she noticed them, wondering if he knew that they were also Kate’s usual footwear of choice.

“How about,” Wren began, spooning the milk froth into the cup and placing it on the saucer, “you take this over to Michael, and then we can start cashing out and closing for the day. It’s getting on, and I think Kate’s going to want to close on time when she gets back. We might as well get a head start on things for her.”

“Sounds good. You want to put some more music on?” Emily asked as she picked up the cup and saucer.

“On it,” Wren said as she headed over to the stereo and started to flick through the CD case that sat on top of it.

Emily rounded the counter and collected the coffee to take over to Michael. Now that she had a better look at him, which in itself was never a hardship, she saw that Wren had been right. Both the jeans and the T-shirt looked old and soft, and he hadn’t shaved for a couple of days, making him look all the more relaxed. He looked like a man taking his ease rather than the distracted and polite man they had initially called Sir Galahad. Kate had told them about his writer’s block a few weeks ago, and that he was now writing again.

Emily had told Brad about Michael’s identity, and on their next date, he had given her a copy of Michael’s last book. It had taken her a week to read it, as she had found herself in the unusual situation of constantly putting it down and walking away from it the closer she got to the finish because she hadn’t wanted the story to end. There was no doubt that Michael was a very talented wordsmith. When she had discovered just how famous Michael was in the literary world, she had felt shy around him when he had appeared in the bakery days later. It felt strangely intimidating to know someone who was so obviously talented and highly regarded. It made her feel quite ordinary by comparison. Wren had soon helped her put things into perspective, pointing out that Michael had to make a living just like anyone else. Emily had watched him on subsequent visits and was reassured by his natural reticence and obvious deep affection for Kate.

Wren, on the other hand, hadn’t read any of Michael’s books in years, as she gave all of her devotion to
Vogue
and
Harper’s Bazaar
. Her apparent lack of interest about Michael’s literary achievements meant that she treated him in her usual disarming, harmless, flirting way that he responded to with an endearing mixture of warmth and embarrassment. His lack of ego had him fumbling for words whenever Wren called him out on his striking good looks, which amused and amazed her.

“She should be back soon,” Emily said in a gentle tone, setting the cup down and turning the saucer so that the cup handle was pointing the right way for Michael to pick it up. “She’s just running a couple of errands.”

“Thanks, Emily. I’m in no rush.” He nodded his thanks.

She returned to the counter and popped open the cash register drawer to start counting and bundling the bills as Wren began unloading the dishwasher and drying the cups to stack back onto the shelf. Soon the pair of them had fallen into an easy pattern of talking and singing along to the music.

~~~

Kate strolled through the Village humming to herself as she walked, enjoying the afternoon sunshine. There had been a lull in the afternoon trade, so she had taken the opportunity to walk the previous day’s takings to the bank. Now the day was winding to a close and people’s thoughts were moving on from coffee and cupcakes to food, which, Kate thought, was exactly the way it should be.

She was looking forward to dinner with Michael this evening, partly because she was curious to see what sort of a cook he was, but mostly because it meant they had a whole evening and the following day to spend together. She remembered her surprise the first time she had seen Michael’s home. It had been one thing to discover he was a successful author, another thing to walk into the luxurious surroundings that his success had afforded him. Even more surprising, however, was Michael’s admission that he preferred spending time in her home, rather than his.

“Your place is warmer,” he had admitted.

“I won’t argue with that; the air conditioner doesn’t work very well.” She’d laughed, trailing her fingers along one of the bookshelves as she tried to take it all in.

“Your place feels like a home, this is—” he’d waved a hand to indicate the apartment as he tried to explain, “—just space, you know?”

Kate had gazed at him in wonder. “Then who decorated it?” She’d looked at the tasteful floor rugs, the carefully placed lamps and pictures.

Michael had shoved his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunched forward. “Mom helped,” he’d admitted. “When I bought the place, she offered to help out because she didn’t want it to look too much like a bachelor pad.”

“Have you added much over the years?” She’d walked toward him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“The books,” he’d answered, indicating the wall of bookshelves with a quirk of his brow. “Just one or two.”

“Just one or two,” she’d agreed, and then had looked away.

Michael had reached up to tilt her chin so she was looking at him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Well,” she’d begun, “do you like spending time here?”

“I didn’t used to,” Michael had said, leading her over to a sofa and pulling her down beside him. “But now that you’re here, it’s different.”

“Maybe the trick is to make it an environment that you want to be in,” she had suggested before he’d silenced her with a kiss. They had been somewhat distracted after that.

Since that conversation, Michael had been peppering her with questions, wanting details about the bakery and her apartment. He had inspected the fox print and drink coasters hanging in their frames side by side, the large oriental urn at the back of the store containing a mix of umbrellas that had been painted by Wren and were available on a “take one, leave one” basis for customers when it rained. Even the Buddha-hand ornaments that stood on her bookshelf at home had been studied and discussed after dinner. Nothing escaped his notice.