Always the Baker, Finally the Bride Page 8

  “Right you are!” the woman declared.

  Jackson pushed the door shut behind him and slipped into the leather chair. Propping his elbows on the desktop, he stared Susannah down for a moment before prompting, “Well?”

  “My sister, Mona?”

  “Yes,” he said with a nod. “The one in Jacksonville.”

  “Yes. Well, she has taken a fall,” she told him, standing on the other side of the desk. He motioned for her to take a seat, but she shook her head and continued, “Her hip is broken in two places, and they performed surgery yesterday.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “She’s going straight to the rehab center for a bit, and then she’s going to need some help at home. So I’m going to fly out over the weekend. I shouldn’t be gone more than a couple of weeks.”

  “Weeks.”

  “I called Cheryl Delbert at the employment agency, and she sent Bree over. I’ll spend a couple of days with her to make sure she knows the lay of the land, and I’m sure she’ll be a fine replacement for me until I come back.”

  “You’re irreplaceable, Susannah. You know that.”

  Her sudden grin cast a shy shadow. “If she works out, perhaps we can discuss full-time employment as my retirement date approaches.”

  Jackson groaned. “Don’t remind me. Let’s just get your desk covered while you take care of your sister. We’ll think about all the rest at a later date.”

  “All right, Mr. Scarlett O’Hara,” she teased. “You think about all that tomorrow.”

  “She comes with good references?”

  “Cheryl seems very confident in her abilities.”

  He sighed and thumped the desk with one fist. “All right. I guess I’ll leave training to you.”

  “Thank you, Jackson. I’m sorry to do this with so little notice. But it really couldn’t—”

  “It can’t be helped,” he finished for her. “Don’t worry. We’ll manage.”

  Jackson drummed his fingers on the desk as Susannah turned to leave the office. “Uh, wait just one second, will you?”

  She turned and looked at him expectantly.

  “I’ve decided to go ahead with the sale of the hotel, Susannah. Do you have any feelings about that one way or the other?”

  “Well, of course, I’m retiring,” she said, and he waved at her and grimaced. “Sorry to mention it again, but I am, Jackson. So it won’t really affect me in any significant way. I imagine the rest of the staff will be distressed.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “But I think this is ultimately your decision.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “I know you well enough to know that you’re weighing your options and the toll on others, and you’ll make the best choice for everyone. Especially for you and Emma Rae as you start your new life together.”

  “Well. That was my plan.”

  “I wish you a very happy life, Jackson. You know that.”

  He sighed. “I do know that.”

  “Closed or open?” she asked as she reached the door.

  “Closed, please.”

  After Susannah had gone, Jackson strolled over to the window and surveyed the Roswell streets splayed out before him. Traffic moved along at a nice clip, and the offices over near the old Roswell Mill bustled with activity.

  Jackson loved the community that The Tanglewood called home. From the historic homes to the nature trails to the lovely old town square, Roswell evoked Old South charm. It ranked as the third largest city in Fulton County, the eighth largest in the state of Georgia, while still presenting itself as having the allure of a small southern town. If Emma ever spoke to him again and actually followed through with their marriage, perhaps they could think about settling here once both of them sold their current places.

  Chastising himself for walking out on her the way he did, Jackson returned to his desk and picked up his cell phone.

  I’m an idiot, he typed into the text box.

  And? came the reply.

  Still want to marry me?

  Thinking. Will let you know. Would be hard to give up the ring.

  Jackson laughed out loud.

  Keep it. It’s the least I can do.

  True. What about the Falcons tix?

  Not giving those up.

  Then I suppose I’ll have to marry you. I’m not giving them up either.

  He leaned back in the chair and released a heavy sigh.

  I love you, he texted her.

  Adore you more. Fondant 911. See u later.

  The intercom on his desk phone buzzed.

  “Mr. Drake, your conference call is on line one,” the cheese woman announced.

  But when he picked up the phone, the line hummed.

  “Sor-ry. I’ll get them back again,” she exclaimed from the other side of the closed door. An unexpected expletive followed, and Jackson snickered as Susannah hushed her.

  “No, no! That kind of language isn’t appropriate at The Tanglewood.”

  Another breach followed an instant later.

  “Bree! Really!”

  “Sor-ry. But this phone system is—”

  The muffled completion to the sentence led Jackson to envision Susannah covering the cheese woman’s mouth with her hand. He almost gave in to the temptation to go and have a look, but Susannah creaked open his office door and poked her head inside.

  “Give it another try. We’ve got them back on line two.”

  Jackson nodded and picked up the phone. “Dale, it’s Jackson Drake. How are you?”

  “Better than you. What’s going on down there in your offices, Drake?”

  “Ah, you haven’t got the time.”

  Dale Eeks cackled with laughter. “Well, if you’re ready, we’ve got everyone on the line. Let’s talk about your Roswell team.”

  “Seriously. How does she do it? I’m starting to think Sherilyn Drummond is a robot!”

  Emma chuckled. “I hear that a lot. She just really loves what she does, and she’s well suited to it. Just hang in there, Kat. It’s a process, and she’s only out for a few weeks.”

  Kat shook her head as she climbed atop the stool at the far side of the stainless steel worktable where Emma and Fee dipped round, coffee-flavored cookies into chocolate.

  “I don’t think I knew what I was in for when I agreed to handle things for her while she’s on maternity leave. I guess I thought it was just a matter of making sure things stayed organized. But, man!” Her words trailed off as she caught a glimpse of the cookie in Fee’s hand. “Man, those look good. What are they?”

  “Mocha latte cookies,” Fee replied. “One of Emma’s creations.”

  Kat watched, riveted, as Fee dipped the small round into the pan of warm chocolate to cover half of the cookie, then placed it next to the other cookies on the wax paper.

  “Do you want one?” Fee asked dryly.

  “Can I?” Kat cried, and she plucked a cookie from the table before either of them could reply.

  At the first bite, she moaned, and Emma laughed at the reaction. “Those cookies get that response a lot.”

  “They’re wicked!” Kat exclaimed. “So good!”

  Emma smiled at her as she continued her work. Taking great care with the spatula, she loosened the next batch of cooled cookies from the sheet, lining them up for dipping.

  “Oh! Where are you with the invitations?” Kat asked as she pilfered another cookie.

  “Thirty-four of them, addressed and stamped, all ready to go.”

  “Thirty-four,” Fee commented. “I thought you were only having a group of less than twenty.”

  “So did we.”

  Fee nodded knowingly, and Kat chuckled.

  “Our guest list is what happened when we were busy making other plans.”

  “Jackson’s sister?”

  “Yeah. The only thing more frightening than Georgiann Markinson is putting her in a room with Avery Travis. But we’ve put our collective foot down, and thirty-four in
vitations is the line in the sand.”

  Kat looked up from her iPhone and asked, “Sherilyn wants to know if you mailed them.”

  “Text her back and tell her I said they’re lost. We need to reorder.”

  Kat’s eyes danced with the fire of surprise. “I’m not telling her that.”

  “Atta girl,” Fee teased. “Save yourself.”

  “Hey, do either of you want to come to Carly’s for dinner tonight? She told me to ask you and I completely zoned.”

  “Can’t,” Fee replied as she set the last of the chocolate-dipped cookies on the wax paper. “We’ve got two more houses to tour, and then Sean’s brother is coming over.”

  “Jackson and I have some making up to do,” Emma said with a grin. “We need to do that in private. Will Audrey be there?”

  “No. She flew out to Las Vegas to meet up with J.R. for a couple of days.”

  Emma smiled. “How is J.R.?”

  “He’s on top of his game. Audrey says he’s been consulting on a Matthew McConaughey movie out there, lining them up with vintage motorcycles.”

  “Oooh! Good for him! And how is your movie star paramour?”

  “Russell’s fine,” Kat replied, blushing. “He’s in Brazil for another month.”

  “A month.” Emma shook her head. “I can’t imagine being separated from Jackson like you two are.”

  “Well, Jackson isn’t quite as exhausting as Russell,” she quipped.

  “True enough.”

  The three of them shared a laugh, and Kat added, “Truthfully, this has been a long stretch, so a little harder than normal. But sometimes a few weeks apart is just enough time for me to recharge.”

  “He is a handful, as I recall,” Emma said with a grin.

  “Indeed.”

  “It would have been nice if he could make it for the wedding, though.”

  “It’s not completely out of the question, but it doesn’t look good. He does send his love.”

  “Back at him. He’s a terror . . . but a lovable one.”

  Kat nodded. “And speaking of lovable, I’ve got a consultation with next weekend’s bride.”

  “Send my love to Carly and Devon.” Emma called as Kat left.

  “Will do.”

  The kitchen door still swung after her as Fee dried her hands and asked, “So what next? Scones or lemon squares?”

  “Squares,” Emma declared, and Fee nodded.

  “I’ll prep the counter.”

  Emma Rae’s Lemon Squares

  Preheat oven to 300 degrees.

  2 cups all-purpose flour

  ½ cup powdered sugar

  2 sticks butter

  2 cups granulated sugar

  1 teaspoon baking powder

  ¼ teaspoon salt

  4 eggs, beaten

  1 tablespoon grated lemon rind

  ¼ cup juice from a lemon

  Sift the flour and powdered sugar together.

  Cut in the butter until blended.

  Press the mixture over the bottom of a 9×13×2-inch pan.

  Bake for 20-25 minutes until lightly browned.

  Combine granulated sugar, baking powder, salt, eggs,

  lemon rind, and juice.

  Spread over the baked crust.

  Turn the oven up to 350 degrees.

  Bake for 30 minutes.

  After removing from oven, sprinkle with additional

  powdered sugar.

  When fully cool, cut into squares.

  7

  I’m so grateful that you could meet with me this late in the day.”

  “Not a problem,” Emma replied, passing a glass bowl of sugar cubes to the eager blond beauty across the table from her. “My fiancé is caught working too. You’re helping me kill some time before we meet for a late dinner.”

  “Oh, good.”

  Holly Norris had great bone structure. Her face looked to Emma like a sculpture in a museum, and the deep set of her blue eyes added intensity.

  “So Kat tells me that you’ve officially nailed down all of the details except the cake,” Emma said, leaning back against the cool wrought iron chair and crossing her legs.

  “Finally. Planning a wedding is far more complicated than I expected.”

  “You don’t have to tell me,” she said on a chuckle. “I’m in the midst of planning my own.”

  Holly’s eyes twinkled as she nodded toward Emma’s hand. “I noticed your ring. It’s breathtaking. When is your big day?”

  “Just three weeks from tomorrow.”

  “Are you having it here at the hotel?”

  “Yes. This place is sentimental for us. It kind of brought us together.”

  Holly wrinkled her nose and grinned. “Oh, that’s so romantic. Which ballroom will you use? I’m in The English Rose.”

  “That’s the largest room,” Emma observed, and she picked up her pen and made a note. “So you’ll have how many guests then?”

  “A hundred and fifty-two are confirmed,” she replied.

  “Ours will be much smaller. Twenty or thirty guests,” Emma told her as she completed her notes. As she set down the pen, she glanced around. “Our ceremony will be right out here in the courtyard, and our reception in The Desiree.”

  “I did sneak a peek at that room. It’s gorgeous.”

  Emma’s heart fluttered slightly. She’d excitedly chosen the room Jackson had named after his late wife because it felt right to incorporate her memory into their wedding. If not for Desiree’s dream of turning the hotel where she worked into a full-fledged wedding destination, Jackson would certainly never have followed through and bought the place. And then he’d never have needed a baker, and they might never have met.

  Although . . .

  The hotel wasn’t where they had met for the very first time. It was the bakery where she used to work.

  Perhaps we’d have found our way to each other anyway, with or without The Tanglewood.

  That lovely thought pressed Emma’s mouth into a soft smile that Holly noticed right away.

  “You’re thinking about your future husband, aren’t you?” she prodded with a sigh.

  “Actually, I was,” Emma admitted. “Sorry about that.”

  “I think it’s so romantic that my cake baker is this much in love. It’s a sort of good vibe.”

  “Well, speaking of your cake baker,” Emma declared, pen in hand once again, “let’s talk wedding cakes. Do you have any thoughts about what you want?”

  “Something different,” Holly replied, and Emma grinned. Nearly every bride uttered those same two words when asked about her wedding vision. “Something in keeping with the theme of the wedding.”

  “Which is Victorian?”

  “Yes. Kat told you?”

  “She did. We talked about your colors and flowers, and she showed me the photograph of your cake topper. It really inspired me. I was thinking about something like this.” Emma opened her sketch pad and nudged it toward Holly. “This one is four tiers, very ornate, with detailed floral elements and pearl beads around the edge of each tier.”

  “Oh, it’s beautiful.”

  “And this second idea,” she said, flipping over the page, “is less ornate, with slightly more whimsy to it. Each tier would be edged with very small roses, and then spiral ribbons would cascade down from the top tier.”

  “Are those real ribbons?”

  “No, everything on our cakes is edible. The flowers, the ribbons, the pearls, all of it.”

  “Oh, my goodness.” Holly picked up the sketch pad and took a closer look.

  “Kat showed you the photographs online of some of our cakes, yes?”

  Emma’s meeting with Holly lasted another forty minutes, during which they covered flavor options, adding sparkle dust to the pearl edging, and making various tweaks to Holly’s final choice, the first cake with the pearl beads.

  “I’ll have you and your fiancé back next week for a tasting, and we’ll decide on whether to go with one flavor for the whole cake,
or perhaps a different flavor for each tier. Kat will sync that up with our caterers so that you can do a tasting for the reception meal as well while you’re here.”

  “That sounds perfect, Emma. Thank you so much. I’ll see you then.”

  Emma walked Holly as far as the glass doors leading back into the lobby, and she returned to the courtyard to gather her things. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a bulky dark shadow rush across the brick, and her gaze darted after it.

  The white lights strung through the trees had only just come on a few minutes earlier, and the flickering gas lamps in each corner of the courtyard didn’t provide enough light to clearly make out what it was. She moved toward the brick planter along the far wall as something rustled the flowering shrubs, and she hurried toward it and pushed back the branches. One chestnut eye peered out at her.

  “Come here,” she said. “Hildie. Come out of there right now.”

  The little girl who’d been discovered going through discarded food on a room service cart a few days before emerged from the bushes, stomped her feet hard against the brick, and looked up at her defiantly. “What?”

  “Don’t you what me, young lady. Why are you always turning up in places where you shouldn’t be?”

  “Who makes the rules about where a person should and shouldn’t be?” she asked. “You? Who are you, anyway?”

  “I told you who I am. Now I want you to tell me who you are. The truth!”

  “I did tell you the truth. I’m Hildie and I’m eleven.”

  “Hildie what?”

  “Now you’re whatting me.”

  Emma shifted as she glared at the girl. “You have quite a mouth on you, don’t you?”

  “Everybody’s got a mouth,” she snapped.

  “Yes. But you’ll learn soon enough that it’s all about how you use it. Now tell me what room your parents are in.”

  “Why? So you can call them and rat me out for getting into your precious bushes?”

  Emma sighed, but before she could reply, the little girl’s stomach began to rumble noisily, and she grabbed at it in an effort to silence it.

  “It sounds to me like you’re hungry.”

  “So.”

  “So . . . maybe I can do something about that if you’ll try being a little less disagreeable.”