Take the Cake (8 page)

“Wren!”

“Whassup?” Wren popped her head into the kitchen. “Hey, nice shirt.”

“Thanks. You got a brush?”

“Do I look like I have a brush?” Wren pointed at her scruffy short hair.

“What am I going to do? I can’t get around with hair like this.”

“Gimme a sec. Emily’s just got here, so she might be able to help.”

Kate heard the women exchange greetings, and then Emily came into kitchen with a smile, already digging in her bag. “Oh, I see what she means. Don’t worry, Kate. We’ll make you gorgeous.”

“Thanks.” Kate smiled with gratitude.

Wren cocked her head and considered Kate for a moment. “You know, with a hot little shirt like that, can I do your hair? I’ve got an idea.”

“Knock yourself out.” Kate shrugged and Wren set to work.

A few minutes later, Kate was surveying her reflection in a mirror. “Braids? You’ve put me in braids?”

“You don’t like?” Wren looked worried.

Kate laughed. “No, they’re cute. I just haven’t had braids since grade school, and even then it was only when Gwen could hold me down long enough.” She gave Wren a quick hug. “Thanks for getting me presentable, babe.”

“Any time.” Wren smiled and went back out front.

Reaching for her compact, Kate gave herself a quick dusting of makeup, some mascara, and lip-gloss. Closing the small mirror with a snap, she dropped it back into her bag, and then turned toward the kitchen counter. It was time to start the day.

Wren was making another round of morning coffees for the team when Emily wandered over to stand beside her.

“I wish I could look like you.” She sighed.

“Huh? What do you mean?” Wren glanced at her before turning her attention back to the coffees.

“You know,” Emily waved a hand at her, “stunning, instead of stunned.”

Wren looked down at her outfit. Her favorite black jeans, a blue Paul Frank T-shirt, and tiger print ballet flats. It was simple and funky, and entirely Wren.

“Well …” Wren grinned. “It helps when you’re short enough to shop in the kids’ section. Keeps the costs down a bit.” She cocked her head and regarded Emily thoughtfully. “But I think we can have some fun with your wardrobe.”

Emily went pink with pleasure. “Really?”

“Yup, particularly if—and I’m only guessing here—it’s going to help you snare someone’s interest.”

Emily’s pink cheeks turned crimson.

“Thought so,” Wren added with satisfaction. “Two for two. I’m
good
.”

“So,” Emily said in a bid to change the focus of the conversation, “if that’s me fixed, what about Kate?”

“What about her?”

“You know,” Emily peeked into the kitchen to make sure Kate was busy. “That hot guy that looks like he’s got a thing for Kate hasn’t been in for a while.”

“I know.” Wren frowned for a moment. “But I think he’ll be in soon. There’s a pattern of sorts and my gut tells me that he’ll be back.”

“I hope you’re right,” Emily said, sipping her coffee.

“Well, if I’m not I’ll just have to make the time to fix things until they are.”

Kate appeared to accept her coffee, and then looked up at the oversized clock hanging over the kitchen door. It was yet another flea market find, with an enormous face that reminded Kate of the ones she saw at Central Station. She enjoyed her weekend customers as everyone seemed to be in a more relaxed state of mind. She checked her calendar for Saturday and looked up to see Wren collecting empty cups off some of the tables.

“Wren, it’s nearly eleven o’clock, time to get ready,” she called before heading into the kitchen.

“I’m on it,” Wren replied, heading out into the café front with some fabric folded over one arm, and then she saw Michael standing outside reading the chalkboard. She put the fabric down and returned to the counter, biding her time.

~~~

Michael had walked through the Village, making his way toward the bakery. He had no idea what he was going to say. He hadn’t visited the bakery for a few days, and since his night of drunken debauchery, he’d steered clear while he tried to get his thoughts in order. However circular his thoughts had been, they always returned to one thing: Kate.

Michael looked down the street toward the red canopy of Take the Cake, not realizing that he was already smiling. The store seemed to be a bit busier than usual today, and he could see people coming and going as he made his way toward it. He hoped he’d be able to find a table. As was his tradition, he stopped and checked out the chalkboard before entering.

The early bird gets the worm,
but the second mouse gets the cheese.

As soon as he entered, his gaze automatically went to the counter, looking for Kate. He wasn’t disappointed. She was serving some customers, exchanging a few words and a laugh with each of them. She was wearing a black, tight-fitting tee with the unmistakable Rolling Stones logo of red pouting lips with a tongue hanging out which moved suggestively as Kate twisted and turned.

Emily saw Michael pause in the doorway and nudged Wren, who looked up from her coffee making.

“It’s him,” Emily said with quiet excitement.

“Excellent. Second cast has left the stage and now it’s time for the main attraction,” Wren replied.

“Huh?”

“Don’t worry,” Wren said, looking serene.

Michael dropped his newspaper and keys onto a spare table and made his way to the counter to order. Kate was with other customers, so he turned to the small woman near the coffee machine, who grinned at him.

“Your usual?” Wren asked as she got a cup out.

“You know it?” Michael was surprised.

“I remember our ‘Specials’ as we like to call them,” Wren replied blithely. “Anything for lunch as well?”

Michael laughed despite himself. “How about I leave it up to you?” he replied, getting out his wallet.

“Oh, good.” Wren gave him a happy smile. “I like it when people come to their senses.”

“Is that what they do around you?”

“Generally,” Wren replied, flicking a glance toward the kitchen. “Some faster than others.”

Michael had no idea what she was talking about but handed over some bills and accepted his change as Wren shooed him back to his table. Later he looked up from his coffee at the sounds of furniture being moved to see a very business-like Wren set to work. Kate had come to his table to collect his plate and Michael made the most of the opportunity.

“Hi, Kate.” He smiled, marveling that conversation with her was becoming easier with each visit.

“Hey, Michael.” Kate gave him a warm smile. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Likewise. So what’s going on over there?” he asked, pointing toward Wren’s endeavors.

“We’re hosting a little girl’s birthday party. They’re having a High Tea,” she explained. At Michael’s look of inquiry, she went on. “We don’t normally take bookings, but we thought we’d give it a shot and see how things go.” She looked over at the activity around the tables, and then grinned back at Michael. “If you think you can handle the estrogen levels, stick around and see for yourself.”

Meanwhile, Wren had moved two tables together and produced a vintage white tablecloth. She draped it over the top and then arranged the chairs to fit. Emily appeared with a laden tray from which they decanted a series of mismatched floral teacups and saucers, sugar bowls, and milk jugs. A vase of flowers was added, and Wren scattered rose petals across the table. As a final touch, Emily tied some pastel helium-filled balloons to the back of each chair, each with a lavish amount of ribbon.

Half an hour later, the birthday girl arrived, accompanied by four of her friends and her mother. The girls were all carefully dressed in “going out” clothes, and they oohed and ahhed over the pretty display before carefully taking their seats around the table. The balloons formed a cordon around the table that bobbed gently as the girls chattered and giggled.

Michael watched, charmed as Kate greeted the mother and birthday girl with a broad smile, before signaling Wren and Emily to deliver the main event. The girls broke into squeals of delight as their High Tea was delivered, and Kate settled them down before describing the fare that was being set out before them.

His lunch forgotten, Michael leaned forward, chin in hand as he watched the tea party unfold. The girls were quite taken with the fine display and under the watchful eye of the attending mother began to eat. Kate reappeared and carefully poured each girl cup of milky chai tea. Michael was surprised to see that the noise was kept to a minimum as the girls carefully passed plates, toasted each other with their teacups, and seemed to delight in what appeared to be a fine dining experience for the young group. The birthday girl opened her presents, and soon Kate reappeared with individually boxed cupcakes for each of the young guests to take home with them. The check was discretely presented and settled, and each girl left with her chair balloon carefully tied to her wrist, calling out thanks and goodbyes. Kate stood in the doorway of the shop, waving them off, and then turned to walk back into the store with a pleased smile on her face.

She stopped at the table to assist Emily, who was gathering up the cups and plates. The two of them shared a quiet conversation about the afternoon as they cleared away the leavings of the party. Wren finished serving a customer and went to the table to gather up the tablecloth, being careful to collect the loose rose petals along the way. By this stage, Michael had returned to his lunch and newspaper, and looked up in surprise as a cupcake appeared beside his coffee. He glanced up to see Kate sliding the plate onto the table, a pleased smile on her face.

“This is becoming a habit.” She smiled. “But we had some spares from the birthday party and I thought you’d like one.”

“Thanks.” Michael couldn’t help but smile back; Kate’s smile was infectious as she turned and went back to the counter. He watched as she dispensed some extra cupcakes to customers free of charge, noticing how everyone was smiling after Kate had spoken with them. He wished he had her easy way with people. She looked busy, which was a pity; he’d hoped they’d be able to talk a bit more. He decided that he wanted to stay awhile longer and went up to the counter again, where Wren looked up with a bright smile.

“More coffee?” she asked.

“Please,” he replied as he turned his head to see what the cupcake of the day was, grinning as he saw the name, and automatically looked at Kate’s T-shirt before reading the sign again.

I can’t get no satisfaction:
Bitter dark chocolate and cherry with creamy frosting.

He looked back at Wren, who winked.

“Private joke,” was all she offered. “Want one?”

“Sure, why not? I haven’t been getting much lately either.”

“What, cupcakes?” Wren deliberately misunderstood.

“No.” Michael raised an eyebrow at the sign. “The satisfaction.”

“Oh,” Wren replied. Her mind was working furiously.
He’s got to be single.
“And what do you do when you’re satisfied?”

Michael shrugged. “I write.”

“Really? Been writing much lately?”

He gave a short laugh. “Hell, no, can’t get no satisfaction, remember?”

“Ahh.” Wren nodded. “And is your …” she gave a delicate pause as she poured some milk into his coffee, “
girlfriend
able to help at all?”

“Uh, no,” Michael replied. “I’m single.” His gaze flickered to Kate again, and he looked back to see Wren watching him with a small smile.

“Single,” Wren repeated. “Right.”

“For now anyway,” Michael replied.

Their eyes met again in perfect understanding.

“Well, I hope you get what you want soon then,” Wren replied, handing him his cup with a grin. “If there’s anything we here at Take the Cake can do to help, let us know.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Michael replied gravely, his eye flickering in a subtle wink to Wren before he turned and made his way back to his table.

Wren watched him go, then regarded Kate. She wouldn’t give her a push today, she decided. It would be interesting to see what happened of its own accord, but she’d step in if she had to.

Chapter 6

The Fox and the Key

Kate dunked her chocolate croissant into her café au lait before shoving the sopping chunk of pastry into her mouth with a hum of pleasure. Thomas watched her over his magazine, and then silently passed over a napkin for her to dab her chin.

“Thanks,” she mumbled as she cleaned herself up, and then leaned forward slightly for him to inspect. “Better?”

Thomas eyed her briefly, and then nodded before reaching over to dust some croissant crumbs off the top of Kate’s T-shirt.

“You know, you really are a tit man at heart, even though you’re gay,” she commented as he fussed over her shirt.

“Hey,” he objected. “I just like checking up on the girls and making sure they’re okay.”

“And how are they?” Kate peered down at her chest, which was now crumb and wrinkle free.

“Very nice.” He heaved a reminiscent sigh. “It’s just too bad they’re not a set of pecs.”

“Can’t have it all,” Kate replied as she finished her croissant, licking her fingers clean before chugging the rest of her coffee. “That was fantastic; I’m going to get another one,” she announced, grabbing her bag and standing up from the small table. “You want?”

“Just a coffee for me, babe,” Thomas replied with a smile, his attention momentarily diverted by a handsome man strolling past. Kate smiled at Thomas’s blatant regard as she walked away from the table and into the café to order.

It was Sunday morning, and Kate was reveling in the thought of the lazy day stretching out ahead of her. She allowed herself one Sunday each month off work and had phoned Thomas to meet for brunch, followed by an inspection of the Hell’s Kitchen Flea Market. Thomas wasn’t interested in the market but joined Kate occasionally to see “what else was available” as he liked to call it. They weren’t the only ones with that idea. The local cafés all seemed to be doing a brisk trade with people sitting at the tables and chairs set up outside, soaking up the sunshine.

“I don’t know how you can manage to eat so much,” Thomas commented as Kate sat back down.

“Guess I must just burn it off at work,” Kate replied as she stuffed her wallet back into her bag. “Which is probably a good thing. Got anything good to report?” Kate gestured at the newspaper he held in a slack grip.

“Well, there are a few showing promise,” Thomas answered as he watched another passerby.

“I meant in the paper,” Kate deadpanned.

“In that case, no, unless you want to pick up a little holiday property at Martha’s Vineyard.” Thomas flicked the lifestyle section back onto the table as he reached for a glossy magazine. “Got it,” he sighed and turned the page to look at another model advertising expensive wares. “Got it, had it, had
him
.” He smiled and turned the page.

“Hang on, go back. Which one?” Kate leaned over. Thomas held up the magazine to show a picture of a bronzed male model. “Oh yeah, I remember him. Weren’t you quite keen on him for a while?”

“I was until he opened his mouth,” Thomas said in an absent-minded voice as he kept flicking through the magazine. “Lovely to look at,” he continued, “but whenever he spoke, all I could hear was the ocean.”

Kate snorted. “I suppose at the start you weren’t really after him for his conversation.”

“You know it,” Thomas agreed on a sigh.

“So who have you been seeing lately?” Kate ventured after a pause.

“Well, I’ve got one that’s showing some promise,” Thomas allowed. “But the others have just been for a bit of fun.”

Kate smiled to herself as she took another bite.

“And what was
that
little smile for?” Thomas asked.

“Well, I had one of those last week,” Kate replied, trying not to blush.

“What? No, you don’t mean …?” Thomas leaned forward, his face showing delighted shock. “Miss Shannon, are you telling me you got
laid?”

“You want to repeat that? I’m not sure they heard you in Florida!” Kate hissed, her cheeks flaming now as people at nearby tables shot her amused glances.

“Sorry.” Thomas apologized, but his eyes were alight with curiosity. “Tell me everything.”

“His name was Tim. Wren got his number for me when he came into the store,” Kate began, stopping when Thomas flapped his hands impatiently.

“No, no, no. I want to know the good bits,” Thomas replied. “How was the sex?”

“Such a pity,” Kate said, shaking her head at Thomas in wonder. “You would’ve made a lovely girl.”

“Spill,” Thomas demanded. “Did he stay the night?”

“He did, but—” she said, holding up a hand to forestall more excited questions, “—but that was it. We won’t be seeing each other again.”

“What, no good?” Thomas’s face fell.

“He was fine, but there was no connection.”

“Honey, then he wasn’t doing it
right
,” Thomas said, slapping the table for emphasis.

“Oh, God.” Kate dissolved into giggles. “Not like
that
,” she said at last. “I meant there was no … emotional connection.”

“Ah.” Thomas nodded in understanding. “So you want the loveage.”

“What?”

“I read it in an article somewhere,” Thomas explained. “Women have sex with the men they’ve fallen in love with, and men fall in love with the women they have sex with.” He leaned back in his chair. “So men and women approach the same situation from completely different viewpoints.”

“Uh,” Kate said, still confused.

Thomas sighed and went on.

“Your guy last week was probably out for some great sex, and although that satisfied a part of you,” he said, leering and making Kate laugh again, “you want the loveage as well.”

“And that’s … what did you call it? Loveage?” Now Kate was looking even more mystified.

“Yup. You want the hot sex, companionship, love—all those goodies, and you’re not the Lone Ranger. We all want it, even me.”

“Huh,” Kate said after a long moment. “Well, I guess you’re right.”

“And so is Wren,” Thomas went on. “For all that she’s a love ’em and leave ’em, she’s after someone that will see her for what she is.”

“And what’s that, exactly?” Kate said, intrigued now.

“She’s a genuinely warm little person, who is just gagging for someone to look after,” Thomas said. “Why else do you think she clucks around you so much?”

Kate looked confused.

“Are you saying that she’s …”

“Oh, hell, no, she’s a meat and potatoes girl, just like you, but she still wants someone to look after her so she can look after him. Deep at heart she’s a nester.”

“Right.” Kate considered this, and then looked at Thomas. “So what does that make you?”

“Fabulous,” Thomas drawled, making Kate laugh again.

~~~

Michael finished his breakfast and pushed his plate away before sipping at his coffee and giving a sigh of satisfaction.

“Good?” his father asked with a smile.

“Yup,” Michael sighed. “Thanks for calling. This was a good idea.”

He had seen his parents a few days ago, but when they called to invite him to join them out for breakfast, he had accepted with alacrity. Hugs and kisses were exchanged when he arrived at their table and the conversation had flowed easily. Michael had a close and easy relationship with his parents, who were both academics. As he ate, Michael noticed how, even after years of marriage, his parents found all manner of excuses to touch each other. Charles finished eating first and relaxed with an arm around the back of Susan’s chair, his hand rubbing her upper arm in lazy circles.

“Oh, honey, you know we love seeing you,” his mother said, reaching over to rub his wrist.

Michael felt a pang of guilt. She was right, of course. The more difficult work had become for him, the more he had shut everyone out. His editor, Alistair, had given him a week’s breathing space but had started to call him for some carefully worded conversations.

“So, Michael,” his father began. Michael braced himself because he knew what was coming. “How’s it all going? With work, I mean.”

“Well,” Michael scratched his stubble, “it has its moments.” He thought about the last few weeks, about Kate, and smiled.

“Looks like it,” his mother observed. “What’s her name?”

“What?” Michael was startled out of his thoughts by his mother’s amused question. “What makes you think it’s anyone?”

She shook her head. “Michael, I’ve been married to your father for thirty-five years and I’ve watched you in and out of relationships, so I know a goofy grin when I see it.”

Michael shifted on his seat, all too aware that his father was watching him with a considerable amount of amusement.

“Uh,” he temporized.

“Might as well give it up, son. You know she’ll get it out of you anyway,” his father advised.

Michael shot him an affectionate glare. “Thanks for your support, Dad,” he muttered.

“Just calling it how I see it.” His father shrugged. “Plus, of course, while she’s grilling you, it means I get off the hook for a while.”

“Well,” Michael began again, “work hasn’t been happening much at all lately, but I’m sure you knew that was still the case.”

Susan’s face creased with concern. “Oh, Michael, writer’s block?”

Michael gave a mirthless grin. “It’s beyond a block now, Mom. It feels like the Great Wall of China.”

“Anything we can do to help?” Susan leaned forward to put her hand on Michael’s.

He smiled. No matter how old he got he’d always be their boy.

“No, it’s okay,” he said, even though it wasn’t.

“Well, you know we’re here for you, son,” Charles chimed in. “At least let your mother feed you once in a while.”

Charles’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, and for the first time Michael noticed that his father’s auburn hair was slowly shifting toward a paler shade, white and gray hairs interspersed with the red. His mother’s chestnut hair still fell in thick waves around her shoulders, but it too was beginning to pale at her temples. He thought of Kate again and her conversation about losing her parents, and he looked at Charles and Susan through new eyes.

“Thanks, it’d be nice to see more of you,” Michael replied and meant it.

“So, what’s going on with your work? How are you dealing with it?” Susan gave Michael a shrewd gaze. “I seem to recall your way of coping with stress was to hide away from the world. Would I be right?”

“Yes,” Michael admitted with a groan. His parents knew him all too well.

“And has it worked?” she continued.

“No,” Michael admitted again, shifting in his seat as his father grinned.

“And what have we learned from this?”

“You going all teacher on me?” Michael replied, trying to divert the conversation. Susan pursed her lips but her eyes were twinkling at him, so Michael sighed and began to talk. “All right, so it hasn’t been working. I’ve started going out for walks, just taking things in and …” His voice trailed off.

“And what?” Susan asked in a gentle voice.

“And I don’t know.” Michael shrugged. “I think I’ve found something …” His words trailed off again.

“Or someone?” guessed Charles.

“Maybe.” Michael considered the situation. “Or maybe not. I don’t know.”

“Well, I guess there’s only one way to find out,” Susan prompted. “And is she nice?”

Michael grinned as he thought of Kate’s laughter, and her easy way with people. “Yeah, she’s one of a kind.”

~~~

“Another one? What do you want to look at more of those for?” Thomas asked as Kate tugged him across to another stall offering original artwork and prints. Kate had begged and cajoled Thomas into keeping her company at the flea market, but after watching Kate carefully work her way through a stack of secondhand books, his patience was wearing thin.

“I just like them,” Kate replied. “So I’m going to have a look. You don’t have to come.”

“Well …” Thomas paused and Kate turned to look at him.

“What?”

Thomas scuffed the ground with his shoe, his hands in his pockets. “See here’s the thing, Kate,” he began. “I’ve got a date this afternoon.”

“You have?” Kate’s eyes widened. “And you’re wasting time at a flea market with me when you should be getting ready?”

“Something like that,” Thomas agreed, then went on in a hasty tone. “Not that time with you is wasted.”

“Oh, I got what you meant.” Kate waved away his concern. “You go get ready. You know I can spend a whole day here and you’ve got a much better offer.”

“Thanks, Kate,” Thomas said, wrapping his arms around her for a quick hug. Kate closed her eyes and felt the warmth emanating from his body to hers. Thomas stepped back, but kept his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Sure.” Kate scrunched her nose at him. “And make sure you tell me all about it later. I want to hear who the lucky guy is.”

“I will.” Thomas gave her a quick, soft kiss. “Later, Kate.”

“See ya, Tom,” she replied, swatting his rump as he turned to stroll off.

“Don’t touch what you can’t afford,” Thomas sassed.

“I don’t have that much small change on me anyway,” Kate teased back, pleased that their old camaraderie was intact. She watched him walk away and didn’t fail to notice the admiring glances that followed his passage. He looked like a Calvin Klein model in his scruffy jeans and fashionably tattered T-shirt. She turned away with a smile and walked over to the art stall that had caught her attention.

The sun was shining, and she had a whole day ahead of her to spend on whatever she wished. She felt blessed. She gave the artist operating the stall a quick smile, and then began to flick through some of the prints, stopping and admiring from time to time but not tempted to buy. She checked her watch and kept strolling, stopping at another artist’s stall, deciding to give herself a present. She began to look at the limited edition prints, realizing that the pictures were good. Kate flicked through a few more; they were
very
good.

She picked one up and held it at arm’s length. She loved it. It was a small print, a stylized fox sitting amongst some flowers. The fox’s red coat was made up of small symbols that reminded her of Louis Vuitton: very stylish. Her mind was made up and she could already picture it hanging in the store.