One Day Like This: A feel-good summer romance Page 5

  “I have to be honest and say, I was a little… well… weirded out by it. Is that the right word for it?” She gave another laugh: she seemed nervous—or unsure—about all of this. “A job offer out of the blue. That was something new for me. I mean, people offer me jobs baking cupcakes and brownies, but not partnerships in new businesses.”

  “It seemed kind of abrupt, didn’t it?” Tessa answered, trying not to be timid in the face of this truth. “I was afraid of that. But I didn’t want to lie and tell you that I wanted more cookies for a party. Since we’re not yet friends, I wasn’t sure you’d come unless I told you the real reason. A crazy one, yes. Still… I thought it might interest you, since you mentioned once wishing you had your own place so you could bake full-time.”

  “You have me there,” said Ama. She sighed. “Sometimes I wish I weren’t baking cupcakes at midnight, after my family has gone to bed, just so I’m not working on restaurant time. Of course, there’s always the issue of how my family would take this whole idea,” she added, and a look between doubt and amusement wrinkled her forehead. “I can see their faces in my head if I told them about this.”

  No laugh this time, Tessa noticed—and a certain steeliness in Ama’s smile, like she was bracing herself for a future battle.

  She took the seat across from Tessa, still holding onto the box she carried with her. It rested on her lap somewhat awkwardly, her arms folded across the top in a way that struck Tessa as protective. Before she could ask her about it, though, the third member of their dinner party arrived.

  “There’s Natalie,” said Tessa, waving her hand as the third girl entered the restaurant. Her friend approached, looking causally chic in a pair of tailored black slacks and a white business blouse that Tessa had seen in fashion sketches pinned to Natalie’s wall a few months ago. Cherry red heels and a matching belt added a touch of glamour-girl fun to the otherwise professional-looking ensemble. Timeless but modern—maybe only Natalie’s friends said it about her work, as she had told Tessa a thousand times, but Tessa knew that someday everybody else would say it, too.

  Slinging a heavy book bag under her chair, Natalie sat down across from Tessa. “Sorry I’m late. I had a test today on local business codes and laws for one non-creative class this year. Mr. Hammer’s multiple choices are surprisingly tricky for a guy who sleeps in his college office after every class. It’s enough to make me wish I had signed up for the history of cotton this semester instead.”

  “You’re practically on time,” Tessa assured her. “Join our discussion on the future.”

  Natalie turned to the girl seated in the chair beside hers, taking her first good look at the talented baker from Tessa’s stories. “So,” she said. “You’re the amazing cookie baker Tess told me about, right? With the online baked goods business?”

  “Ama Bhagut.” Ama extended her hand.

  “Natalie Grenaldi.” Natalie shook it politely. “Part-time student and full-time wannabe fashion designer.”

  “Charmed,” said Ama, with a smile more real than the nervous one that had accompanied her previous remarks.

  Natalie turned to Tessa. “Where’s Stefan, may I ask?” She glanced around for the fourth partner who was supposed to be at dinner. “Don’t tell me ‘The Wedding Guru’ had a tailoring emergency.”

  The little snort in Natalie’s voice was getting to be too much, in Tessa’s opinion, since they needed their fourth partner to jumpstart this business. “No,” she answered. “He couldn’t make it. He texted a half hour ago that he had a prior invitation to a party that he can’t escape.”

  “Who’s Stefan?” asked Ama.

  “He’s an event planner from Wedding Wonders who’s partnering with me for the wedding planner side of the business,” explained Tessa. “He’s a friend of mine… sort of. He’s good. And he’s used to planning really elaborate and expensive events, so he’ll be perfect.”

  “Perfect,” echoed Natalie. “His favorite word for his work. Or is it ‘fab’? I forget—there are so many superfluous terms for describing over-the-top glamour, aren’t there?”

  Ama looked confused. Tessa tried not to cast a warning glance in Natalie’s direction. Maybe given time, their fourth partner’s personality would grow on her, or at least they would find a decent truce.

  “It’s just the three of us for tonight,” said Tessa.

  Natalie and Ama exchanged glances. They were still growing accustomed to each other—and this insane idea, Tessa thought. “I guess we all know why we’re here,” said Natalie, with a touch of hesitation in her voice.

  “Crazy, isn’t it?” said Ama. “Four virtual strangers considering opening a business together?”

  “You said it,” said Natalie.

  “It’s not as crazy as it sounds,” said Tessa. “Natalie’s already looked at my proposal and agreed that it’s possible, if we all come together and work hard. I’ve been saving for a down payment on a business for years, so that’s one resource we have.” Years spent waiting in vain for a big break—and cleaning crushed cookies out of the princess costume’s lace net skirt.

  “Your resource,” Natalie pointed out, wryly. “You’re putting your whole life’s savings into this, Tessa. The rest of us won’t be taking nearly that big of a leap, much as it pains me to part with some of my monthly paycheck to cover bills and sundry expenses. Of course, Stefan may have something more substantial to contribute,” she added as an afterthought.

  “I have a little saved,” piped up Ama. “Not much—but it’s something.” She shrugged her shoulders.

  “It’s only fair I take the biggest risk, since it’s my dream,” said Tessa. “Besides, I think it’ll work, so I won’t lose anything—one location for four of the most talented people in the event planning business can sell itself,” she continued. “We’re the people essential to any wedding’s success. That’s who we are, even if we haven’t exactly been given a chance to prove it.”

  “Essential to someone’s success? Me? Speak for yourself,” laughed Natalie. “I’m not the most talented designer in the business, believe me.”

  “Yes, you are,” insisted Tessa. “And while you haven’t seen Ama’s baked goods, I have, and they’re amazing enough to be in an issue of Brides magazine.”

  “Hold on,” said Ama, holding up one hand in protest. “I think you’ve mixed me up with someone else. My sole experience is baking cupcakes and cookies for fun, and making desserts for the restaurant. The only cakes I’ve ever made are for family and friends. I don’t think I have the kind of experience that somebody will want for their big wedding cake. Who would trust me?”

  “Do you know how to bake one?” asked Tessa. “Do you know how to decorate one?”

  “Of course,” said Ama. “But I haven’t done it professionally. I don’t know if I’m all that good—well, let me show you. I brought a sort of ‘sampler’ of my work,” she said, lifting the pastry box she’d been holding onto the table. “These are sort of like showing you my résumé, I guess. Be honest in telling me your opinions.”

  Smiling shyly, Ama flipped back the lid to reveal row upon row of exquisitely handcrafted cookies and pastries. There was everything from cream cheese Danishes flecked with candied orange peel to decorative cake pops painted to look like poodles and Persian cats; fig cherry bars with a lattice sugar glaze, perfect macaroons in pastel colors… and one third of the space was devoted to twin rows of sugar cookies so ornate that Tessa didn’t know if someone could bring themselves to eat something that perfect.

  “Wowza.” Natalie whistled. She was staring at a selection of sparkling “fashion shoe” cookies—complete with edible buckles, beads, and tassels. A pair of glittering ruby red slippers, like the ones Dorothy wore in The Wizard of Oz movie, and a funky sixties purple pilgrim shoe studded with silver nonpareils shimmered up at them.

  “Did you make all these just to convince us to partner up with you?” Natalie asked. “Because if you’re trying to bribe us with baked goods, I have to tell you
, it’s totally working.”

  “Not exactly,” Ama confessed. “They were some extras left over from my last few custom orders—an engagement party and three birthdays. Some of these didn’t turn out quite right, which is why I still had them. A smudge of frosting here, a crooked line there,” she explained, with a sigh. “I hate it when my icing tip slips like that.”

  “They all look perfect to me,” said Natalie. “These are the flawed ones, you say?”

  “They are perfect,” said Tessa, picking up a pink poodle cake pop. “Forget about dinner. Let’s just eat these instead,” she said, taking a bite from it. Strawberry—and was that a creamy filling in the center, with real fruit jam?

  “Uh-uh. These are definitely way too beautiful to eat,” Natalie said. She was studying a tiny ballerina figure perched atop a sparkly pink cupcake. “What is the tutu made out of? Cotton candy?”

  “Good guess.” Ama was blushing, as if embarrassed by all this praise. “The ballerinas are white chocolate—I molded them using this old ballerina ornament from a music box I found at a flea market across town. I used non-toxic clay to make the molds, then poured in the melted chocolate. After they harden—paint and serve.”

  “Genius,” said Natalie.

  It was pretty genius. This was even better than the cookies Tessa remembered from the superhero birthday party. She hadn’t realized how talented Ama truly was. This girl would have no trouble with wedding cakes—maybe that wouldn’t be challenge enough for somebody this clever, actually.

  They had to move the box aside with haste as the waitress approached to take their orders for the evening. Tessa chose the smoked ribs for her entrée. Suddenly, she felt hungry again.

  “Those treats left me craving more sugar,” said Natalie. “Maybe I should just skip dinner and order dessert. Then again, the house specialty is cherry cobbler, which isn’t really my favorite. And I’m not sure I’ve even tried sweet potato pie before. Sweet potatoes don’t factor heavily in my mom’s cooking.”

  “Have you never eaten sweet potato pie?” Ama asked. “It’s kind of like pumpkin pie. See, this one has a candied sugar and nut top—it would taste amazing with a scoop of brown butter cinnamon ice cream on top.”

  “Isn’t that cinnamon overload?”

  “Trust me,” said Ama. “Spices are kind of my specialty at home. At least, I really love trying out new combinations with them, making a favorite recipe seem fresh with a dash of nutmeg or paprika, or maybe smoky chipotle, even…” She trailed off with a sheepish grin at their looks of bemusement.

  “Sorry. I get a little carried away when it comes to recommending culinary combinations,” she explained. “I’ll take the batter-dipped chicken and sweet potato fries, please,” she told the waitress, when she returned from fetching their appetizer of fried okra. Beside her, Natalie settled on the bourbon barbecue cheeseburger.

  “I think your enthusiasm is just what we need,” Tessa told Ama. “We need someone with your kind of passion, believe me. Once our customers see one of your works on display, they won’t have any doubt about it,” she added.

  “I’ll second that,” said Natalie.

  “The same for Natalie’s fashion sense,” Tessa continued, with a pointed glance at her friend. “Maybe we haven’t all done these things professionally that many times, but we know what we’re doing. We know how it’s done. We can show them samples of our best work, and that should win anybody over.”

  “When it comes to wedding cakes, I have a notebook of potential ideas but not much else,” said Ama. “I hope these customers don’t mind going on a little faith.”

  “So maybe our best work was done in our own apartments on our own time,” said Tessa. “It’s still real. Natalie has a closet full of original designs that nobody has been lucky enough to wear—”

  Natalie snorted at this remark.

  “—and you’ve made cakes and designer cupcakes for dozens of satisfied customers already, and have a notebook full of great cakes, probably. As for me, I have invitations I designed myself, wedding themes from roses to literature—whole weddings planned down to the last corsage. I just never had a chance to show them to anybody but event planners who weren’t really looking to hire yet another creative mind,” said Tessa. And she sighed a little inside, though she hid it on the outside. “But I want that to change.”

  “Me, too.” This, surprisingly, from Ama, who had a wistful look in her eyes.

  “And we’ll have Stefan,” supplied Natalie. “He’s experienced. His past clients will probably recommend us to others because they liked his planning style at Wedding Wonders. If you have a self-declared genius, what else do you need?” Her biting tone was unmistakable.

  “You seem kind of skeptical about him,” said Ama dubiously. “I mean, maybe I’m misreading things”—she glanced from Natalie to Tessa with this remark—“but that’s the vibe I’m getting.”

  “Stefan and Natalie… kind of got off on the wrong foot.” Tessa gave her friend a sideways glance as she said this, with a warning scowl. “They met at a bridal fashion show where, let’s just say, Natalie had a less-than-great first impression of him.”

  “It was just his whole attitude,” Natalie said. “I’m in design, right? Best of show at Spring Stroll was a designer new to the business, whom everybody agreed privately had brought down the house with that amazing throwback line. They were the best, hands down, but there’s Stefan in his Hugo Boss suit, schmoozing the Lang collection’s designer who’s at the top of the industry pyramid despite having one of the worst wedding gowns on the spring runway—and why was he doing it? Because the newbie might have been the best, but they weren’t a good ‘contact’ for someone in his field.” She made quotation marks with her fingers. “He spent the whole evening trying to impress the top dogs and never even once congratulated that amazing designer.”

  Ama looked worried. “Is that how he usually behaves?”

  Natalie took another sip of water. “Besides, he practically shoved me out of the way to invade a conversation I was having with one of the designers at the winter fashion review. Someone who actually seemed interested in hearing my ideas, unlike my current boss.”

  Tessa winced. “Probably it was an accident and he didn’t even see you standing there.”

  “Oh, but it wasn’t,” Natalie said. “He literally nudged me aside mid-sentence. Before I knew it, he was presenting his card and fawning all over the woman like his next meal depended on getting her to design something for his well-heeled client.”

  Unfortunately, Tessa could picture it all too well: Stefan elbowing her friend out of the circle of professionals, a sycophantic smile on his face as he handed his card to the designer in question. Stefan was self-absorbed, it was true. She pictured Natalie’s indignant expression as she watched her chance at making a business connection outside of Kandace’s shop snuffed out by Stefan’s gigantic ego. It was hard not to grimace as she thought of it.

  “The worst part is, he didn’t even remember it happened,” Natalie was telling Ama. “Later that same night, he interrupts another conversation I’m having to ask me—and get this—if I can fetch him some mineral water from the beverage station! He actually thought because I was Kandace’s assistant I should just drop everything and find him something to drink! Can you imagine the level of ego it would take to treat someone that way? ‘Natasha, do me a favor,’ he says, as if I’m not doing anything important with my time, standing around talking to professionals in my field. Natasha,” she repeated, eyeing Tessa with this reminder.

  “He’s really bad with names,” said Tessa meekly.

  “He sounds a little full of himself,” Ama answered, her tone conveying that she was unsure why they would want to invite a person like this to join their possible business venture. “And you’re sure he’s a good potential partner for us?”

  “Why not?” Natalie said, but still sarcastically. “His clients think he’s the best, and he’s planning to leave his job. Creatively outgrowi
ng his cubicle, so to speak.”

  Since Stefan wasn’t there to defend himself, Tessa decided she should probably be nice and find a way to soften this negative image of him a little before it frightened Ama away from the whole idea of the partnership. “Okay, so maybe Stefan’s ideas can be a little unorthodox,” she intervened. “Maybe he’s not to my personal taste in planners… the high-strung, creative type gets a little wearing after a time. But he’s professional and focused and makes his clients happy. He is considered one of the best rising event planners in the city. And we need that kind of reputation if we want our agency to have a fair chance.”

  The waitress reappeared, delivering plates of steaming vegetables and smoked spicy meats. “Y’all enjoy,” she said with a smile.

  “What’s his work like?” Ama asked. “I’ve never heard of him… then again, I’ve never heard of any event planners from the city. Our family is the self-planning type.”

  “I remember this medieval-themed wedding he planned for a client who was a regular at Kandace’s Kreations,” mused Natalie. “She showed us pictures. A groom in chainmail and ushers dressed like pageboys. Real swords for the groomsmen, and ‘ye olde’ tapestries all over the place—the cake had little edible stained-glass windows all over it, which was actually pretty cool.”

  “Edible stained glass? Seriously?” said Ama. “Was it simple colored panes? Or are we talking about painted scenes, like in a church?”

  “Church,” said Natalie. Ama looked extremely impressed. “It was shipped here from the Linder Art Bakery in Charleston. Anyway, it was what we call a ‘high concept event’—to put it mildly.”

  “I still thought it was better than the elves,” muttered Tessa.

  “Elves?” Ama repeated. “Are we talking about Santa Claus, or, like, live action role-playing or something?” she asked.

  “Woodland elves and nymphs,” said Tessa. “It was a sort of Midsummer Night’s Dream thing.” She had seen pictures from it on Stefan’s LinkedIn profile recently. The bridal party’s spangled green tights and flowered head wreaths were more like something out of Hook, but at least they were attractive, and not like one of Natalie’s boss’s designs. Even so, the “Frolic in the Forest” theme had seemed a little too fanciful, even for Stefan’s gushy taste for sequins, glitter, and sheer bunting.